#brixish

[ma-derniere-danse]

@brixish

Having just finished sending off a report he’d spend the last few hours working on, most would assume Franny was ready for a bit of relaxation and downtime. On the contrary, if anything he was more fired up than before, a beaming grin on his face as he wrapped his arms around Tom from behind.

“So,” he purred, lips brushing the Brit’s neck. “I seem to remember a little conversation in which you mentioned marrying me. Care to comment?”

[timbits-and-chill]

@brixish

“Hey, dad? Hey um, I called your assistant, she said you’re actually in Ottawa for a business thing, haha... I was just wondering if we could meet up to talk about some stuff. Um, call me back? Love you.”

[suckthekumara]

ma-derniere-danse replied to your post: @ma-derniere-danse A haiku: My uncle Francois Has...

:{ counts as a syllable u FUCK

@brixish Are you going to sit there and let this frog slander me

[eyesofanirishman]

@brixish

Rian stood at Thomas’ door with three boxes in his hand, and a strange balancing act was going on out there. He had forgotten to call to see if Tom was actually going to be home that day, but he had just been excited about having money for real gifts. He shuffled to grab his phone to text Tom and see if he was home... If he wasn’t, he’d just go check into a hotel and slap his own wrist for not checking these things beforehand.

When he finally had his phone out, he nearly dropped the boxes and had to stop and put everything down. For an old man, texting took both hands and complete focus on those tiny letters. The man hadn’t even considered just knocking.

[ma-derniere-danse]

@brixish

“He’s asleep,” Franny sighed, dropping down into Tom’s lap and draping his legs over the arm of the sofa, happily snuggling into his lover’s hold. “Poor thing, he is so upset over this. I think I’m going to have to visit Teo, make sure he isn’t making bad decisions... but for now, I just want to cuddle. Kiss me?” 

[ma-derniere-danse]

@brixish

Couch surfing seemed to be all Franny had done for... almost a week, now. He felt gross, especially considering the energy buzzing through the air outside. It was the eighties, for goodness’ sake, and he could barely even get off Tom’s sofa. Until something shifted.

“Tom?” An overwhelming sense of freedom suddenly coursing through him, Franny floated off the couch to find the Brit. “Tommy, he’s gone- he’s gone--!”

[velhovinho]

@brixish | s.c

“Robert, my dear old friend, you would not believe the week I’ve had.” Gabriel gives a dramatic groan for emphasis. “I’ve come all this way to visit, so let’s have some tea and forget about the rest of the world for an afternoon, sim?”

[velhovinho]

treasure, gold, youth

one word memory

treasure/gold

“Do I sound too sentimental if I say the treasure I hold most dear is love?” Gabriel shrugs, a sappy smile on his face as he says this. “Ah, but as for material treasures…” He hums as he wonders exactly which story to tell. “The cross I’m wearing right now is one of my most beloved treasures, then.” He taps the cross hanging from the silver thread necklace, a simple gold Catholic cross. “It’s a gift from one of my kings, not long before he died.” The smile remains although there’s a shadow over his expression now. “Sebastian, the fool. He gave it to me only a month before Alcácer Quibir. I thought it would be good luck to wear it with me, you know?” His smile tightens, but he continues on. “I held on to it, praying I’d find him in the battle. He charged ahead, like the world was waiting for him over the horizon.”

“–Maybe it was. He had such grand dreams for us, and I could see it when I looked into those eyes so clearly, the vision of the future he wanted. But instead of the world waiting for his crusade, all he found was his end.” Here he pauses, his eyes downcast. “That was where some bastard stabbed me in the eye and I passed out. When I awoke on the ship a few days later, with my eye in bandages, the nurse handed me my cross. They’d recovered it from the battlefield…but not Sebastian. And my cross–it had broken in two. I should have had it fixed earlier than I did, but so much had been going on. It wasn’t until nearly the end of the Union I had it repaired. And somehow wearing it again, this simple and lovely present he gave me, it was all I needed to keep fighting to free myself of the damn Union.”

youth

((this one’s in drabble form because it’s a period of his life he doesn’t like talking about but I wanna explore it so sue me

historical context: set around 880-1000 CE, after the beginning of the Reconquista where Iberian kingdoms took back land from the Islamic state of the Umayyad Caliphate who controlled the peninsula))

Gabriel hit the ground with a grunt, his vision blanking from the pain. He felt blood dripping down his face, and every part of his body ached. The sword slipped from his hand as he fell, he could barely keep hold of it. For a moment all he wanted was to lie there and forget about fighting. But his hand seized his sword and he struggled back to his feet, his face set in a determined expression. “Again.”

Galicia looked up from cleaning her sword, giving him a derisive look. “You can barely stand. You’re out of practice, grown soft being the Caliphate’s lapdog.” She towered over him, all stately elegance in her battle wear, with barely a scratch on her. While Gabriel, still barely more than a child, wore bruises like a cloak. He tried to catch his breath, only to start coughing up blood. Both hands wrapped around his sword so tightly it would have hurt had his whole body not felt numb.

She was right, of course. For over a century he’d lived in Umayyad’s palace, pampered like the saved little angel he’d been named for. Malak. His rebellions had amounted to little more than tantrums, and he’d hardly fought at all. Gabriel hated himself for enjoying the luxury, even enjoying being named ‘angel’ in his conqueror’s tongue. ‘False angel’, Umayyad had called him when he rebelled. It infuriated Gabriel beyond reason. He was anything but false, and he’d prove it. He promised himself he’d take his home back from the Caliphate, and he wouldn’t rest until that came true. 

His vision sharpened, focusing on Galicia as his grip tightened on his sword. Gabriel darted forward, taking her by surprise, and swung the blade across her unarmored side. The cloth tore, and the side of his blade hit her skin with a victorious smack. She bounced back like he’d burned her, eyes wide with surprise at his sudden attack. Gabriel stood in front of her wit his sword held up, panting from exhaustion, waiting for her reaction.

At last, “You are either very brave or very stupid.” Galicia huffed and sheathed her sword, measuring Gabriel up with her eyes. “Time will tell which it is.” Another pause, her guarded expression slipping for a moment as she regarded the boy with some concern. It was a wonder he was even still standing, let alone fighting. Determination shone through in those blue eyes, a quiet fury to his spirit that would not rest even when his body couldn’t keep going. “Go rest. You earned it.”

At those words, Gabriel finally seemed to relax, nearly falling to his knees as the tension fled his body. He breathed out a long sigh and sheathed his sword, following his mentor into the castle. Before the last step, he turned to watch as the sun began to set, his hand resting on his pommel. Galicia stopped, noticing where his attention had gone. Her gaze drifted off towards the sunset as well, and she placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. The unexpected gesture of affection put a smile on the boy’s face, and he straightened up to declare to the world, “I’m coming for you.”