“Am I being abducted?”
lloyd-the-barista

lloyd-the-barista:

ninthcompanion:

image

"No, you are being taken to safety forcibly. Now pick up the pace, I intended to be out of sight by nightfall."

"Hang on a sec, can’t you at least tell me what’s going on?!" Lloyd pleaded to know. Not that it mattered anyway - Kratos had an iron grip on his arm and no intention of letting Lloyd go. Whatever threat was looming over Lloyd, it sure had Kratos in a bind.

Kratos spoke without turning his head, his voice quiet, urgent. “Walk faster and I may consider it. I have only your safety and continued happiness in mind. So do try to be stealthy as we make our escape.

wittyresponsecoming:

 

Most of Yuan’s life had been spent gripping at every possible chance to crawl his way through the world. To have the chance to continue with breath filling into his lungs and the sweet taste of delicacies on the tip of his tongue. The will and drive to continue fighting for what he thought was worth it. To allow for every moment to come to fruition for those who couldn’t do it themselves. The days in his life never got easier, but continued to grow in strife and difficulty until that day happened. The day most of problems were gone and life for him wasn’t the same anymore.

It was nice to have no conflict on the ready any longer. To be able to sit back and enjoy the kiss of the sun without the terrible thought of whatever loomed in waiting to gobble him up. No longer having such harsh responsibilities of thousand of lives hanging at the very tip of his fingers. Granted he still had his duties to the World Tree, but the impending doom of its demise was no where close. He knew if he were to die one day, it would continue to thrive under the adoration and care of others. It was a pity how less important his life had become, but he supposed he had outlived his purpose.

It was on days when he felt no important in himself that he sought out the company of others. For distraction, for comfort, or for enjoyment. Though due to his renouncement of seeking company from hookers, he deemed he needed to waste his time on the man that caused him to suffer so.

Of course, when it came to their relationship there always was something new to find out about the other. For as long as they had been together, they never really talked all that much about their pasts or what they preferred. Unless it was blatantly being thrusted into their faces that is. So it came as a surprise when he found Kratos as he was. Yuan was sure to keep quiet, so he could watch for a bit.

Tucked away along the side of the area, he watched bemusedly as Kratos fought against non-existent foes in what tattered clothes he decided to clothe himself in. Whatsmore he was dancing around without any shoes on. Yuan would have found it odd for a man who prided on good footing would know a man without his shoes didn’t have much to hold onto. It was simply just a minor detail, but because it was a minor detail about Kratos. Yuan knew he had to know. He’d get what he wanted.

He usually did.

If Kratos Aurion was the sort of person who had been born to walk on the side of caution, he might have called his training session at an end. If he had any natural common sense when it came to himself, he probably would have cooled down, taken a break, perhaps eaten some fruit to replenish energy.

But he didn’t.

Granted four thousand years of having great responsibility on his shoulders had taught him to consider how his actions might impact upon others. He had once considered himself a good leader on the battlefield. But as things were, he had considered himself alone. And there was something he still wanted to try.

Rolling his left shoulder, he took a few breaths, waited for his heartbeat to slow. That done, he took another breath, straightened, threw his sword up with his right hand and snatched it from the air with his left.

An experimental strike. Once. Twice. Going through the standard motions, gaining speed, bringing it back up to the level he’d been moving before.

It began to hurt. He did not stop. It began to be clumsy. He gritted his teeth, tried harder. There had been a time once in which he had believed anything was possible within reason, if he put his all to overcoming it. He was no longer so naive. But he was just as determined

Three strikes left, quick succession. Two right. One up then quick strike down. A finishing blow?

His sword was no longer in his hand, skidded to a stop by the tree line. His head turned with it. He slipped, but did not fall. There was no real enemy. There was no need to continue. He dropped to his knees, breathing hard, leant there a moment without moving and then let himself fall to the side.

Dew dampened his face. He rolled to his back, uttered a curse under his breath and lifted an arm up to the sky. He should roll back his sleeves. He should pick up his sword.

For a few minutes longer, he wouldn’t bother.

“Am I being abducted?”
lloyd-the-barista

image

"No, you are being taken to safety forcibly. Now pick up the pace, I intended to be out of sight by nightfall."

Kratos liked to think he was the sort of swordsman who honed his skills and kept his blade sharp. He liked to, but of late, even he had to admit that he’d not been keeping up with his training - some of it caused by events beyond his control others, he considered, a lack of reasonable discipline.

Either way, he couldn’t deny feeling the familiar itch beneath his skin, that same agitation with sitting still that could only be warded off by pushing himself as close to his limit as possible without seeking active conflict. The state of mind and body that required him leaving the confines of his current abode, clad only in the battered trousers and shirt that served as his pyjamas, shoeless and sockless, to hack at imaginary enemies as though he was once again on a battlefield.

It wasn’t too productive. And certainly did little to improve his actual combat skill. But the feel of grass beneath his feet, the weight of his sword in his hand and the wind whipping at his face as he moved were all comfortingly familiar.

And it was enough to chase away his combwebs, force the blood around his body. For the first time in what seemed like too long, Kratos ended up panting, hair sticking to his damp forehead, sticking straight up as he paused to swipe it away.

He had not expected company. If he had, he might have noticed the sound of familiar footsteps. If he had, they would certainly have found him composed, going through precise movements, actually wearing shoes.

But as it was, there was only really one person capable of completely surprising him at times like these. And it was no surprise who it was.

DOCTOR WHO SENTENCE STARTERS

lettucedoathing:

  • “The children of my civilisation would be insulted.”
  • “You have a knack of getting yourself into trouble.”
  • “We’re always in trouble! It follows us everywhere.”
  • “I made some cocoa and got engaged.”
  • “I can’t decide whether you’re a rogue, a halfwit, or both.”
  • “You squashed my favourite Beatles!”
  • “We’re trying to defeat the Daleks, not start a jumble sale!”
  • “No one mentioned cutting throats.”
  • “I am a citizen of the universe, and a gentleman to boot.”
  • “I keep my eyes open and my mouth shut.”
  • “You might almost say the Cyberman had a… complete metal breakdown.”
  • “Have you thought up some clever plan?”
  • “I’m going to bung a rock at it.”
  • “People spend all their time making nice things and then other people come along and break them!”
  • “Logic merely enables one to be wrong with authority.”
  • “Just pretend to be stupid. Think you can manage that?”
  • “I hate computers and refuse to be bullied by them!”
  • “Great jumping gobstobbers!”
  • “You, sir, are a nitwit.”
  • “Sometimes I think ‘military intelligence’ is a contradiction in terms.”
  • “… you ham-fisted bun vendor.”
  • “You were trying to make cocoa in my lab?!”
  • “Nuclear explosions? Take the usual precautions… sticky tape on windows, that sort of thing.”
  • “Do they have mice in Atlantis?”
  • “I never thought I’d have to fire in anger at a dratted caterpillar.”
  • “Would you like a jelly baby?”
  • “You’re standing on my scarf.”
  • “Call me ‘old girl’ again and I’ll spit in your eye.”
  • “Excuse me, can you help me? I’m a spy.”
  • “You’re just a mouth on legs.”
  • “Oh, you know how it is; you put things off for a day and next thing you know, it’s a hundred years later.”
  • “I speak treason fluently.”
  • “It’s more a mental stroll in a park of psychic tranquility.”
  • “A little gratitude wouldn’t irreetrievably damage my ego.”
  • “I shall beat it into submission with my charm.”
  • “We aren’t getting anywhere playing pat-a-cake with the wall.”
  • “You’re bonkers.”
  • “Guns can seriously damage your health, you know.”
  • “Are you trying to be funny?”
  • “Absence makes the nose grow longer.”
  • “A bird in the hand keeps the Doctor away.”
  • “Every dogma has its day.”
  • “Two wrongs don’t make a left turn.”
  • “Time and tide melts the snowman.”
  • “One tends to expect advice from one’s adviser.”
  • “Do me a favour and drown yourself.”
  • “You’re a nice guy, but a little weird…”
  • “Anybody remotely interesting is mad in some way or another.”
  • “These shoes! They fit perfectly!”
  • “Am I being abducted?”
  • “Go to hell, sir.”
  • “Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands about?”
  • “I came first in jiggery pokery.”
  • “I failed hullabaloo.”
  • “What the Shakespeare is going on?”
  • “I’ve never been slapped by someone’s mother.”
  • “Excuse me, do you mind not farting while I’m saving the world?”
  • “Are you my mummy?”
  • “That is textbook enigmatic.”
  • “They think I’m in drag!”
  • “Oh… I should have realised. He’s into musical theatre.”
  • “I can save the universe using a kettle and some string. And look at me, I’m wearing a vegetable!”
  • “I’m going to report you for… madness!!”
  • “I point and laugh at archaeologists.”
  • “Please desist from striking me.”
  • “I was promised tea!”
  • “Have you got space teeth?!”
  • “A poncho. The biggest crime against fashion since lederhosen.”
  • “Let’s die looking like a Peruvian folk band.”
  • “Okay, this is bad. At the moment I don’t know how bad, but certainly we’re three buses, a long walk, and eight quid in a taxi from good.”
  • “I’m the clever one, you’re the potato one!”

➸, ✿, ☮, and ❢!
lloyd-the-barista

➸:Something you like about your fandom

How welcoming and nice everybody is. In terms of the RP community, the moment I arrived an Anna and another Kratos RPer came into my inbox to welcome me. I learnt about tumblr rp from these people. Most of my icons were given to me by friends I met on here.

And on top of this, I entered a Tales of cosplay contest a couple of months ago. And almost everything that could have gone wrong with this costume did. My sewing machine broke, so I had to sew the rest of the costume by hand. I pulled such late nights sewing that I ended up so tired I didn’t pack properly and then I left my wig and gloves in another country and had to buy another wig at the con.

I was pretty upset about all of this. I’d worked really hard on this cosplay and it had fallen apart. Every step of the way, other Tales cosplayers were telling me I could still do it. And when the wig thing dealt the final blow and I had none of my hair scissors or anything, I went to that group of cosplayers. And three people offered to help me, during the convention, the day before the contest. Three people who were also competing in the contest.

And that meant a lot to me. They didn’t have to take time out of their convention to offer help to me. It would have been better for them to not have done. But they still did, because our fandom is full of really great people.

So the people. The people are my favourite part, definitely.

✿:Three of your favourite followers

I’m not answering this one because I have a lot of followers on here and I like them all for different reasons. Some of them are my friends, who are all wonderful creatures. Some of them are writers I admire from afar. Some I write with but don’t know. Others post things that either amuse me, entertain me or blow my mind. And some of you are names I see who support us by liking the things on this blog.

And you’re all important to me.

☮:Something you’re confident about with your writing

Oh gosh… If I pick something, I’ll probably then immediately muck it up. But in all honestly, I have very little confidence in my writing. I know I’m not horrendous because I have a degree in it now but at the same time, I don’t really look at it and see anything I’m good at either.

Just stuff that’s not too bad.

❢:Your favourite icon of your muse’s FC

It’s a tie.

image

Okay, it’s a tie between many.

My favourite gifs as a bonus for copping out are these:

emeraldsorcery:

 

"I don’t doubt that Kratos, it’s just…." How was he supposed to put this? He shook his head. "I’m just stunned. Is all, I mean, you’re not technological impair but you have to admit, you have a bit of a habit of destroying modern machines. In creative fashions I might add."
image

There was nothing he could say that would counteract the evidence the boy had collected against him. It didn’t matter that he had successfully used the Derris-Kharlan Core System for four thousand years, or that he considered himself a safe Rheaird pilot

image

The fact remained that he had contributed to the destruction of a microwave, a washing machine and a portable communication device. Plus he was unable to set a VCR, although he felt that in that instance, the odds had been rigged against him.

So he sighed and said, “I shall endeavour not to avoid such occurrences in the future.

high-functioning-grump said:laughs, i have over five hundred. /taunts. but no, i’m glad. you really deserve them lauren. proud of you.

no tea 4 u

I joke. Thank you, Yomi, you beautiful soul  ^_^ Congrats to you too for your follower count. Keep being awesome! ^_^

Mun Update

I’m sorry about the sudden semi-hiatus. I got hugely sucked into Tales of Xillia 2 (which I still haven’t finished so please no spoilers), have had some things going on and have been finding it difficult to get the focus and the muse to do the replies in the drafts.

Plus, I’m moving tomorrow to begin another year of uni study. But this means that tomorrow, the move will hopefully be over, so I should be able to get back on the blog tomorrow night.

I hope everyone’s had a good week ^_^

In the mean time, if anyone wants to see anything from Kratos, say anything to Kratos or just poke him and see what he does, feel free to get in there!

*casually puts a ♢ in your inbox because I'm a cheesy dweeb*
lloyd-the-barista

♢:Forehead or cheek kisses

The first time Kratos kissed his newborn son’s forehead, it was warm and soft and the lips that touched it brushed like feathers. He didn’t know why he did it - he had never been more afraid to cause harm with a breath - but he had never loved anything more than he loved the bundle in his arms.

Never in his life had Kratos been compelled to heal a scrape that did not need healing, a bump that had not yet risen, a red mark, or a tear beading at the corner of an eye.

Anna scolded him for that; Lloyd needed to believe in the healing power of a kiss. When he fell down, he needed to realise he would be alright. It was their job to wipe away the tears, to give comfort that overrode the pain, not to take it away with magic.

When Lloyd cried, Kratos healed with a kiss to the forehead, like that very first day but without the uncertainty, a firm kiss, a tight hold. It was a promise. Now, he understand. Each kiss was a soul deep promise that he would protect his son, would hold him close and chase the demons away, whatever it took until the day he died.

That was what it meant, Kratos realised as he smoothed the lines on his slumbering son’s face with a kiss; to be a parent was to ache when a pain could not be healed with kiss; to be a parent was to do all in his power to chase the nightmares away.

And as he watches his teenage son squirm and frown and tense in his bed, although he is no longer that boy’s father, although his kisses are not the ones that have defeated his demons, Kratos feels it - the ache, the pain. His child is suffering and his father is not there.

And for a moment, just one moment, his facade drops. He his not the cold-hearted mercenary he claims to be. He is not here to take the Chosen from under the noses of all those who love her. He is not the man who will once again rip his son’s world apart.

He is a father and he presses a kiss to Lloyd’s forehead that weighs more than any ever should, a kiss that is meant to heal but cannot. Because in it are a thousand apologies, are the memories of birthday’s spent without the birthday boy, gifts that were never given and praise that never left his lips.

He breathes the words, less than a whisper, into his son’s hair. “I am sorry.”

Lloyd, my son.

He does not wait to see if the lines smooth on Lloyd’s face. He does the same thing he did all those years ago. He fails. He turns away. He leaves before Lloyd can wake up and wonder why daddy is crying.