#▌about & RAY▐ ― ⌠when honor dies . i will be denied my history ! ⌡

[dullweapons-a]

MAKERS MARK   -   a symbol that holds the intent of the creator as well as their name  .  these are given to demons who were created by another . with this symbol the two will always have a connection   &   know where one another are as well know if the other is in danger when they call out to each other .

RAYS:    prove to me you are strong enough to survive    |   Lamatar 

DAWNS:      be the burning hope the world needs    |    Lamatar

ray’s is on his neck , almost always covered by his scarf . he feels a lot of shame to know he’s forever marked by his father . has no idea what it truly says   &   assumes it says to be a killing machine for demise .  he’s tried to scrub it off , claw it off ,  &  tried to tattoo over it but nothing can cover it . 

dawn’s follows her spine , starting at the nape of her neck as going all the way down to her tail bone . doesn’t really cares if you see it , but its hard to see past her hair .  treats it like a cool tattoo . doesn’t remember what hers says anymore but knows its something nice .

[jolaar]

Faint, dare, be furious,

rough, tender, liberal, elusive,

encouraged, deadly, deceased, alive,

loyal, traitorous, cowardly and spirited;

 not find outside the good center and rest,

be happy, sad, humble, haughty,

angry, brave, fugitive,

satisfied, offended, suspicious;

 flee the face to the clear disappointment,

drink poison by süave liquor,

forget the profit, love the damage;

 believe that a heaven fits into a hell,

give life and soul to disappointment;

This is love, whoever tasted it knows it.

The Verses of Lope de Vega talks about Love, one of the most powerful forces of creation, in its name the greatest stories in the world have been written. Many times they end well but there are also times that they end badly, even leading to the death of lovers. Often times these eternal lovers are found in legends, history or in literary works. One of these eternal lovers has all three and their history makes the city that lived these loves go back in time. The lovers of Teruel.

I'm going to put on my Juggler costume to tell you the story of these thirteenth-century loves.

As there are several versions of the legend, I will take a little of each one, after all, the story is the same and ends the same.

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Hear the love story

more sublime and true,

and it happened in distant times

and that everyone remembers it.

 It was in the city of Teruel

of the Aragonese homeland,

shortly after conquering them

to the Agarenas people.

 It was in 1212 of our Christian era,

Lucia Teruel beautiful,

with its crown of battlements

its noble palaces

and splendor of 9 churches.

 There were two young people there,

scions of nobility

 His name was Juan Diego,

Isabel will call her,

of the Marcilla el Galán,

of the Segura la Bella.

 I leave the ballads here and return to normal writing, that writing in verse is a bit difficult.

Isabel and Diego had known each other since they were children, friendship turned into love and they decided to unite their lives in marriage. Diego, although he was from the Noble family, was the second son of the Marcilla, he would not inherit or title, land or wealth. When he went to ask his father for Isabel's hand, he was reluctant to marry. Under pressure from the lovers, he agreed to get them married, but set conditions, a period of 5 years for Diego to get a fortune so that his daughter Isabel could have the life she deserves. The lover accepted the condition of the father of his beloved, he knew that the fastest way to get fortune and fame was war. Luckily for him, war drums sounded, King Pedro II called his mesnadas to go on the crusade together with the King of Castile and the King of Navarre towards Al Andalus.

Diego veiled his arms in the church of San Pedro de Teruel becoming a Knight, before leaving he visited Isabel and the two promised each other eternal love, she promised him that she would wait for him and that he would be faithful to him, that he would return and that he would bring fortune. A friend of both of them of Moorish descent and who knew how to read the future, told them the fate of both, this told them that Diego would achieve fame and fortune, and his return to Teruel, that Isabel would become the most beautiful young woman, and that the Their love would be eternal, but something he saw that he did not tell the lovers.

Diego asked Isabel for a kiss, although she wanted to, through the intercession of her Mistress, he had to deny it. But he promised her that when he returned he would give her the kiss that would unite them forever. From the tower of San Martin, Isabel saw her lover leave, from a distance they saw each other for the last time, within 5 years.

The years passed and Isabel waited for her lover. The waiting time makes Isabel de Segura become the most beautiful maiden in all of Teruel and surroundings, she receives marriage proposals from leading men, but she is firm in her promise to Diego.

A few days after the deadline set by Isabel's father, a rumor took over the streets of Teruel, Diego de Marcilla had died. Isabel didn't believe those rumors, but her father did. For a long time he had received marriage offers from Pedro de Azagra, a very rich man, and brother of the Lord of Albarracín, some gossip said that the men of Azagra had started the rumors of Marcilla's death. Isabel was reluctant and opposed to the wedding with Don Pedro, she wanted to wait until the last day of the deadline, but her father did not, because of his pressure she was pushed and handed over to Pedro de Azagra. Isabel resisted the marriage as much as she could. At the time of the wedding of "if anyone has something to object to" a voice sounded in the Cathedral, Diego's little brother reminded Isabel of the promise he made to his brother,

Teruel has never seen so many celebrations for a wedding, illustrious guests arrive in the city, the King Niño Jaime I and his protector the Grand Templar Master Guillem de Montredon, a papal nuncio endorses the ceremony, the wedding procession goes through the streets of the city, flowers are thrown to the couple as they pass, 3 days will last the celebrations for the wedding of Isabel de Segura and Don Pedro de Azagra. Jugglers, tournaments, a wedding bull, big banquets will follow.

On the afternoon of the second day of festivities, rumors came that an army was arriving in the city. With the last rays of the sun, that army that was approaching Teruel entered the city through the Daroca gate, near the San Martin tower. They were not enemies but friends, the Almogávares, the elite troops of the Crown of Aragon. The soldiers joined the party in the nearest tavern, after arduous battles a glass of wine and warm thighs is what is most desired. The vanguard of these soldiers comments that their captain is from Teruel, that he returns to meet again with his beloved, who had left to achieve fame and fortune in a period of 5 years, the innkeeper and his customers begin to connect the dots. At those moments the rear of the army enters the city, including its captain, Galán Altivo, strong from years of fighting, dressed in the best finery and mounted on a beautiful Andalusian steed. The innkeeper and his patrons see what they imagined, the captain of the host is Diego de Marcilla, they look at each other and begin to sense that this will end badly.

Diego, fought the Muslims, fought in Las Navas de Tolosa, was almost killed in Muret, has made incursions that have earned him fame and wealth. He is happy for his return home and the reunion of his love, but the news of his beloved's wedding reaches him and an uncontrolled fury takes possession of him, he is arrested, but when his father and his older brother are taken to prison. Come and free him from his future captivity, being one of the 9 mayors of the city is what you have. The reunion of the Marcilla is bittersweet, the kisses and cries of a mother who is reunited with her son, the little brothers who know their older brother, the father who feels bad for not defending the interests of his middle son. Diego insists on seeing Isabel to which his parents urge him not to go, that she is a married woman, but he gives up the family plea, Thanks to the help of his younger sister, Diego knows Isabel's new house, in the Plaza del Torico. Diego goes to Isabel's new house, Diego's mother senses that she may never see her son again.

Isabel, now the wife of Don Pedro de Azagra, has retired from the festivities, she wants to be alone, her mistress consoles her. At that moment a maid calls her mistress's bedroom, an unexpected visitor insists on seeing Doña Isabel, she agrees to go see that unexpected visitor, surely it is another friend of her husband who is going to congratulate her. The surprise is capitalized when opening the door, the visitor is her lover, Diego. Young people hug each other passionately. Much to be told and so little time. He tells her about the blood, the sweat and tears that he has shed, but one constant guided him, his love for Isabel. She tells him that she has waited for him, that she has always loved him, but that women also have honor, and that her parents insisted that she marry when they heard the news of his death. Diego agrees that Isabel will not be his, He tells her that he will leave Teruel he will never see her again, all he asks is a kiss, the one that he promised 5 years ago, a kiss that remembers his passion until God calls him. Isabel, although she wishes with all her might, refuses it, reminds her that she is a married woman, tells her that women also have honor. Diego begs for that kiss to his beloved. When it seems that Isabel acquiesces, she recoils, then Diego begins to suffer from a bad chest, Isabel's mistress takes him out of the house because Don Pedro de Azagra is arriving. Diego begs for that kiss to his beloved. When it seems that Isabel acquiesces, she recoils, then Diego begins to suffer from a bad chest, Isabel's mistress takes him out of the house because Don Pedro de Azagra is arriving. Diego begs for that kiss to his beloved. When it seems that Isabel acquiesces, she recoils, then Diego begins to suffer from a bad chest, Isabel's mistress takes him out of the house because Don Pedro de Azagra is arriving.

When the husband arrives at the room where Isabel asks him what is wrong, she tells him that she has had a bad dream. Her husband tells her that if she tells her her bad dreams will disappear, Isabel agrees to tell her. He tells him that he dreams of a man who returns from war, after a woman who had promised him eternal love, but on his return she is married. Azagra consoles him by saying that it is a sad story, but more common than it seems, asking his wife if the dream man would calm revenge. Isabel tells him no, that she just wanted a kiss. Azagra laughs and is surprised. Isabel tells her that the woman of her "dream" does not give it to her since she is a married woman, that it was due to her husband, Azagra tells her that the woman of her "dream" is an ungrateful woman, that a kiss in a story like that it doesn't matter, a man who comes back from war and only asks for a kiss, that woman deserves hell. While Azagra laughs at his wife's dream, Isabel, upon hearing what her husband has said, breaks into tears, Pedro de Azagra leads Isabel to his bedroom so that she can rest in peace, telling her that this dream has little or nothing to do with it. with them.

    Meanwhile, outside the house, Diego's brother, his squire, and the “seer” friend who had read the couple's fate years ago, were waiting for Diego to leave the Azagra's house, a door opened through the kitchens and a person stumbled out of it. When he approached by the light of a lamp they saw him, it was Diego, they approached him worried and they saw him pale almost dead. They asked him what had happened, if they had hurt him or made blood, to which he answered no, that no one touched a hair, saying: “Wounds have the love that our eyes do not see. Neither in conflict nor in battle, at home, in Teruel, at the gates of heaven. Do not blame anyone for my death, it is evil of the soul, this soul of mine is weaker than I thought. Goodbye Teruel ”. And said this, I fell to the ground. The brother and the squire were scared and came to help him, but they saw that he was not breathing, he was dead. The psychic friend remembered what she saw in destiny 5 years ago, death.

Although it was at night the news of Diego de Marcilla's return and his true death began to spread by word of mouth through the streets of Teruel, the next morning the entire city knew the news. The cathedral bells that two days ago called weddings now call to death. The funeral procession leaves the Marcilla house in the direction of the cathedral, they pass through the Plaza del Torico, where Isabel now lives, she sees her lover from the balcony, crying because she will never see him again and regretting that kiss. that he did not give.

Diego's comrades in arms lead his horse, once haughty, now submissive and without its rider. As a sign of mourning, they run their weapons across the ground, breaking the shield of their fallen captain out of love, the drums sound with a funereal step, the fierce Almogávars now cry not for the battle but for the loss of their captain. In the Cathedral, the people of Teruel, both nobles and commoners, cry and shout for the loss of their neighbor, Diego's parents, heartbroken over the tragic death of their son, preside over the ceremony.

Suddenly, the doors of the cathedral are thrown open, a hooded figure already against the light enters the temple and goes to the central corridor. He approaches the coffin of the deceased, his steps are determined, but at the same time with fear, people begin to wonder who that person is. The mysterious figure reaches the altar. He takes off his hood. An almost eternal deafening silence followed by a whispering takes over the people. It's Isabel. What are you doing there? A small brawl takes place at the altar, her parents ask her what she is doing there, Diego's classmates reproach her for her attitude. A voice is raised in the temple, Diego de Marcilla's mother, they are told to be quiet, that she has the same or more right to say goodbye. Isabel finishes taking off the hood that covered her, She wears the same wedding dress that she wore 2 days ago, this makes the murmurs take over the place. Isabel arrives at the coffin of her beloved Diego, cries before him, approaches his ear to say something to him, and immediately gives him the passionate kiss that she never gave him in life. Everyone in the cathedral is amazed by such an act. Isabel stands up, her face is not sad, a smile of love crosses her face, she takes a few breaths of air and collapses on her dead beloved.

Those present are frightened by the loss of the young woman, her parents go to help her, but when they see that she does not react, they realize that Isabel de Segura has died. New cries of pain take over the cathedral. The Lord of Albarracín says of burying Isabel in Santa María de Albarracín, in the family crypt of the Azagra family. A resounding NOOOOOOOO sounds in the place, it is Don Pedro de Azagra, Isabel's widower. Between sobs, he appealed to his status as husband and lord of Isabel, admitting that she was never his but Diego's. Taking off his wedding ring, he put it on true love. Praying that no one separate the union, denying that she was buried in Albarracín, but next to her beloved Diego de Marcilla.

Seeing such a scene the inhabitants of Teruel made a common boto of burying the lovers together and never separating them. The Knights Templar and the Knights Hospitaller carried the bodies to the church of San Pedro, during the journey the neighbors threw flowers at them. Upon arriving at the Church, before burying them together, the parish priest who saw the two young men grow married them so that at least in the kingdom of God they would be husband and wife since in the kingdom of men they could only be THE LOVERS OF TERUEL .

“I, Domingo de Celadas, elected judge of this town, I see myself in the obligation to narrate the events that occurred here, today February 17 of the year of the lord of 1217. Just as we were born the plagues, the battles, well this that we will narrate the loves of Don Diego de Marcilla and Doña Isabel de Segura. Truer story than any other. Scribe, ask those present, complete the story, so that the following generations know it. And you raise a single grave to keep the bodies of these two lovers and to remain together, as spouses, which is what they have always been. "

 In love with the world

Lovers on Earth

In Teruel love raised a temple

In which they are venerated

The mummies of 2 lovers

What example do they present

 Come to renew

Those ties that tighten you

 That love

Feels alive

Beyond existence.

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In the 16th century, in some works in the chapel of San Cosme and San Damiano in the church of San Pedro, a tomb with two mummies, a man and a woman, and a scroll that told the story was discovered. It was Isabel and Diego. Their bodies remained together and were exposed in a church chapel, surviving wars, looting, and calamities. In 1955 the sculptor Juan de Ávalos devised and sculpted the recumbent statues under which the mummies rest. The cold serenity of Los Amantes, whose hands do not come together, is a symbol of an impossible love that goes beyond human concepts. The bases are molded in bronze: An angel –which symbolizes obedience- in the tomb of Isabel; a lion - symbol of courage - under Diego's tomb.

This is the story or legend of the Lovers of Teruel, many versions, but all the same. This story of truncated loves and the death of lovers will inspire future generations, and writers, Tirso de Molina, Fernando de Rojas in "Tragicomedy of Calisto and Melibea" also known as "La Celestina", William Shakespeare with his famous "Romeo and Juliet ”. The authors of the nineteenth century in full Romanticism will be passionate about this tragic story and countless plays, theater, novels, an Opera by Tomas Breton, artistic works would enlarge this story. Since 1997 Teruel returns to the 13th century to remember this tragic story, amateur actors recreate this story the weekend after Valentine's Day, every year the city triples its population that weekend. In 2019 it became a national holiday.

 I cannot say goodbye without reciting the Verses of Don Francisco de Quevedo in his poem

"Constant love beyond death"

Close my eyes the last

shadow that the white day will take me;

and can unleash this soul of mine

hour of his eager flattery;

 but not from that other part on the shore

it will leave the memory, where it burned;

swimming knows my flame the cold water,

And lose respect for severe law.

 Soul to whom an entire prison god has been,

veins that humor to so much fire have given,

marrows, which have gloriously burned,

 your body will leave, not your care;

they will be ash, but they will make sense;

dust they will be, more dust in love.

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 14

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Warnings: mentions of death and light depressive thoughts. 

A/N: I reached 400 followers today! Which is my first month anniversary! Wow thank you so much for all the love! 🥰

Masterlist

Stay With Me

Steve waits in his car, tapping his fingers along to the beat of a lazy tune he was humming. His fingers brushed along the four ring symbol embedded into the center of the steering wheel of his Audi R8.

The windows were down letting the heated rays of the sun shine on his arm lining the window pane.

It was one of those weird days again. A clear sunny day in the middle of January. Being an avid lover of hating the cold, he wasn't complaining, but he knew that an out-of-place summer day in midwinter was a foreboding omen that Mother Nature was brewing a deadly storm.

He sighs looking to his side and out the window to see students walk by. Some in a hurry and others not so much. His lips twist into a crooked smile when he catches a few passersby ogling the curves of his car like she's some hot babe on the beach. Some of them even spotting the Adonis sitting inside, lowering their glasses to get a real good look. He liked the attention.

Steve was never taught to be prideful. What was his today could be someone else's tomorrow. But as a rich man, he couldn't not show off a bit. And where else to show off than in front of his girl's school?

Well, she wasn't "his girl" yet but he liked to think she was. No harm in that? Right?

Steve sits back in his seat folding his hands over his chest while smiling to himself. He texted you earlier saying he'd pick you up from class today for the sole reason of saying he missed you.

You obviously argued with a burning blush on your cheeks, saying you could go home on your own. He only replied with a "I'll pick you up at three."

It's fifteen minutes past three and he's wondering where you are. He gets out of the car to stretch his legs and get a good dose of Vitamin D. He leans against the car, one pocket in his hand, the other holding his phone, thumb tapping away until he finds your contact.

"You better not be dipping." He texts.

The typing bubble pops up almost right away.

"Don't get your panties all in a bunch. I just had to make study group plans."

He smiles, starting to type something snarky. He stops half way when you send another text.

"God, I can see your hideous face from all the way over here. 👹"

He looks up and sees you walking over, bag slung over one shoulder with a textbook in your hand. He smiles and waves as you approach him with two girls.

"Hey, loser," you greeted with a lazy salute.

He snorts, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?" he retorted.

Your lips form into a pout and you huff through your nose.

"Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Y/N?" One of the girls asked with a sly grin. She was pale skinned with jet black hair and striking blue eyes.

"Oh, um, this is Steve," you pointed at him.  "Steve, these are my friends. Jane and Darcy," you introduced by motioning to each one.

"Hi nice to meet ya," he waved.

"Sooo," Darcy drawled. "Are you Y/N's boyfriend?"

Steve's cheeks tint a light pink and the girls don't miss it. They chuckled as he started spewing out random words. "Uh well uhm, I don't–"

"Tsk, tsk, Y/N," Darcy teased, "you leading him on?"

"It's not like that!" You retorted, a bit loud.

"I feel like I've seen you somewhere before," Jane spoke up. "Are you a model or something?" She asked.

Steve laughs heartily. "No, no, I'm not, but thanks for the compliment."

"Back off, Jane!" Darcy exclaimed, a common trace of mischief streaking her tone. "That's Y/N's man!"

"Darcy!" You grumbled, clutching the book in your hand tighter and ready to swing at her if she didn't shut up.

"Oh my gosh, of course, I'm so sorry," Jane chuckled. You sink behind your book as Steve scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. "You two make a really cute couple," she complimented.

Steve beams at her words. "Thanks!" He exclaims. You glare at him, eyes shooting daggers at him. Sadly, it does nothing to stop him from smiling like an idiot. Nothing ever really did.

"Woah, fancy car you got here," Darcy remarked, sliding her hand against jetblack metal. "Imported?"

"All the way from Germany," Steve boasted with a smile. He was proud of his baby.

Darcy smirks at his tone, she looks over to you. "You have good taste," she winks and Steve can't help but let out a chuckle.

You swing your book at her, face red from her constant teasing. "Oh shut up!"

She takes a step back, laughing like a maniac. Jane hooks her arm in Darcy's.

"C'mon, Darcy, let's go," she tugs on her arm with a wicked grin splayed on her face. "We don't want Y/N, to be late for her date."

"It's not–oh forget it," you gave up, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Have fun, you two," Jane waves goodbye.

"You two need a ride?" He offered.

"No, not this time, but maybe the next," Jane replied with a smile as they headed off.

You groaned quietly. "Shall we go now?" Steve asked with a smile.

"I guess so," you nodded, walking to the other side. You open the door and get inside. "Sorry, they're kind of annoying."

"No, I like them," Steve shakes his head, starting the car.

"Like dissolves with like, I suppose," you shrugged.

Steve rolls his eyes as he shifts into drive and gets out of the curb. "Alright, Princess, where to?"

"Home would be nice," you replied, looking out the window, secretly swooning because of his nickname.

He boldly takes your hand resting on the textbook in your lap and tugs on it gently. You look over at him. It’s a sight to behold, one hand over the steering wheel and the other in yours. It's a picture you like and there's a strange feeling of intimacy in it all.

He shares his eyes between you and the street as he asks a question.

"The long way or the short way?"

You chuckled, wishing he wasn't so cute.

"The long way, please."

"Do they call you Godfather?" you asked without any context.

Steve chuckles, walking beside you in the park beside the East River and under the Brooklyn Bridge.

"No, that'd be kinda weird if they did," he replied. "Besides that's an Italian thing and I'm Irish."

"Right, I guess my view of the mob is very skewed," you said.

"Maybe just a little," he chuckles and measuring with his hand.

"So when did you actually start?" you asked. "Like how'd you know this was what you wanted to do?"

"My family's been running the Brooklyn mob for ages," he informs. "I was the next in line so I had to take it."

"You were forced into it?"

"No, not like that, it's more of a duty, an honor so to speak," he replied. "It just seems kind of wrong if I left everything my ancestors built to screw around."

"I get that," you nodded.

"Does it bother you?" He asked.

"What?"

"Me being in the mob," he elaborated, feeling somewhat ashamed.

"No, not really," you shrugged with a shake of the head. "Okay, maybe when I'm being chased down the street it does," you said, a chuckle coloring your words and he chuckles along. "But other than that I'm alright. I believe you shouldn't really judge a book by its cover," you smiled at him and he follows.

You skipped around him and over to the side of the path, stepping onto the blocks that held the fence along the river. Your fingers curl around the metal rods, letting you balance yourself on top.

Your hair twirls in the briny breeze that passes by as hues of orange and pink begin to paint the sky. Steve stands beside you, his back to the river, head turned to look up at you.

"So what about your family?" You asked.

Steve tenses for a second. "Just me,” he replies with a lopsided small. “My mom died of cancer when I was a kid. So my dad raised me by himself,” he turns over and rests his elbows on the rail.

“He never got married again?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “He didn’t want to. He used to say no one could ever be Sarah and he didn’t want anyone else but her.”

“He really loved her, didn’t he?” you said.

Steve turned to you with a smile, the wind blowing through his blonde locks. “He did,” he smiled sadly, “They’re happy together now.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was killed a while back. Got shot through the heart three times,” Steve told you. Truth is, he hated talking about it.

“Because he was the kingpin,” you connected the dots. He nodded and a cold shiver runs down your spine. The reality of the mob really started to sink in.

“Don't you ever feel afraid? That they might do the same to you?”

Steve raised his shoulder in a half shrug. “Not really. I've been in the mob all my life. I’ve never really felt like I needed to be afraid,” he explained, “Besides it’s not like I really have much to stay for, if I left I don’t think it’d really change the course of things.”

Your lips part to speak but there aren’t any words. Steve never seemed like the one who’d have such grim thoughts. He was cheerful and warm as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But anyone could wear a mask. That was something you knew all too well.

Steve notices sadness written on your face and he takes your hand in his. “But lately I’ve been thinking,” he brushes his thumb over of your hand, admiring how soft it is, “that might not be entirely true.”

“It isn’t,” you replied with a shy smile, “I can name a couple of people that’d want you to stay. Me, being the first.”

He smiles with a quiet chuckle, pulling you closer by the hand. “Yeah? I thought you hated me?”

“No, I don’t hate you,” you retorted with a roll of the eyes, “I don’t really know what is that I feel when it comes to you but it’s certainly not that.”

Your back hits the railing behind as he turns to stand in front of you. He gives you a smile that is so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness and it sends an unexpected warmth through you. “You’re really cute when you talk like that,”

Your cheeks burn bright, laughing at him. “You know you’re the first guy to ever make me blush so hard,” you told him with a shy smile.

Steve dips his head, leaning into your space. “I guess that makes me special?”

“Maybe just a little,” you mused. He rests his forehead against yours and the two of you start giggling like children.

When you look at him, Steve smiles warmly like the morning light, but there’s something solemn swimming in his eyes.

“Y/N, about what happened that night," he recalled.

“Yeah?”

“Um, I-” he tries to find the words. “It’s just. It’s not going to go away. They’ll come back and it could get worse. Maybe not tomorrow but someday,” he warned. “What I’m really trying to say is that as long as you’re with me it’ll be dangerous.”

“Are you telling me to leave?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

“No," he shakes his head in denial. He says it too fast, maybe a bit needy.  "Never," he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Only when you want to. But I’m hoping you’ll stay.”

A small smile forms on your face. “I want to stay," you replied. Your hands squeeze his tightly in assurance, keeping him from floating off into space. "With you."

Steve's heart fluttered like a butterfly caught in a heavy gust of wind. Battered back and forth between thick walls, just trying to make it through without falling.

Steve smiles wide, the blush on his cheeks growing evident. Who would've thought the kingpin could blush so much? Let alone fall so hard for one girl when he had a million on his tail.

He had the world in his hand but all he really wanted was you. And it's like his dream was finally coming true.

"Besides, if anyone tries to mess with me I'll be sure to give 'em what they came for," you remarked, playfully punching him in the chest.

“A real Brooklyn Baby," he jested with a laugh.

“Oh shut up," you retorted, a chuckle coloring your words.

“Make me," he goaded with a grin.

You pulled him gently by the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer until his lips hover over yours. Your breath brushes along his lips, but you don't make another move. You're teasing him and it drives him crazy. Crazy to the point he forgets all that's around him.  

Unable to bear the gap in between, Steve takes your face in his hands and pulls you into a bruising kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck by instinct, pulling him in deeper.

By the cool currents of the East River and under the fading heat of the setting sun, you feel warm in his arms and loved in his embrace like there's nowhere else in the world you could ever truly belong.

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[waywardodysseys]

Resigned to Fate - Chapter Seven

Warnings: violence, blood, cussing

Word count: 4.2k

Author’s note: never written for Star Wars before, but with The Mandalorian figured why not; getting close to the end!; thank you for reading!!!

Ultimate Masterlist

The transport unit you are aboard sets down yards away from the domed city of Sundari. The ramp opens slowly revealing the bronze color atmosphere. You inhale the stench of death and acid. The air is breathable to say the least yet no one has lived on this rock in years.

“This better not be a trap.” Gideon says as he follows you.  

“It’s not.” You only wish it was though.

You make your way through Mandalore’s quiet desert lands and stop at the entrance to a Sundari. You reach out towards the gate, it slowly raises. The sound of the cranks filling your ears. You stop once the gate is high enough for you and Gideon to pass underneath.

Gideon walks under first then you. He gives you a sideways glance. “Your father was devastated when he learned you had died. Said he taught you better than to bow at death’s door.”

“You’re his minion Gideon. Once you have the Darksaber he’ll take it for himself. He’ll dispose of you.”

Gideon smirks. “We are to rule this galaxy together Y/N. Him and I together. You and the creature with us, helping us. You can have all your heart desires – riches, an army, all the lovers you could ever ask for.”

You only want one, need one. Your heart aches for him, hoping he is alive. “I want to be left alone. He promised…”

“Your father only said those words to get you to come with me!” Gideon barks.

You shriek back slightly and remain quiet as you walk through the stillness of the domed city. Houses and businesses were once filled inside the domed glass. People, children, beings of all walks of life had lived here and now they were gone, dead. The Great Purge had desolated the planet. You began to wonder if Ramee was behind it. He, after all, despised the Mandalorians because one had raised you and you had always denied a job killing one.

“Kill a Mandalorian!” He would shout at you.

“Never!” You had yelled back. “Never will I kill one.”

You stop in front of the tallest building within the city. The skull of the Mythosaur covers two doors leading into the temple. Above the door is a depiction of three helmeted Mandalorians taking down Jedi. Above the depiction, blue crystal glass reaches towards the sky.

“Magnificent.” Gideon says from beside you. “I’ve never seen a Mandalorian temple before. The beauty of the culture is well displayed.”

“Why do you want the Darksaber?”

“I told you. I want to take down a Mandalorian.”

“There’s nothing special about how to take down a Mandalorian Gideon. Armor only covers so much.”

“What better way to take down a Mandalorian then to use a weapon created by a Mandalorian? A Jedi Mandalorian no less.”

“You’ve held it before? Haven’t you?” You ask with a sideways glance. “Otherwise you wouldn’t care.”

“Don’t you dare reach into my mind, Deathblade. I am not your enemy. I am not your mark.”

You weren’t even reaching into his mind. He had just given you the answer you needed. “So you have held it before? Are you…?” You don’t want to say the words.

“Yes, I have held it before. Then your father wanted it for you.” Gideon frowns. “I am not like you. I don’t have the power.”

You think back to the night of your adoptive mother’s death. You recall a figure with a hooded cloak holding the Darksaber and bringing it down to kill. “It was you, wasn’t it? Ramee told you to kill her. In front of me!”

Gideon looks at you, “I had just claimed the Darksaber. Your father convinced me to used it. To feel the power it possessed when wielded by someone. Yet,” Gideon pauses, “I never felt it. He knew and when you had completed your training as his weapon, our assassin, he wanted it for you, and you alone.”

You clench your fists in anger. Ramee had ordered your adoptive mother’s death but you were face to face with the man who brought down the weapon which actually killed. Your hands ached to reach for your sword but you had to remain composed.

You turn, reaching for the doors and hear a whisper of “don’t let him in.”

You look back at Gideon. “I should go alone.”

Gideon steps forward. “And have you make a foul of me? No way.”

“This is a sacred place Gideon. You aren’t welcome.”

“Yet here you are!” Gideon shouts then pauses, “step aside!”

He places his hands on the doors. They open slowly then with a rush of speed they open widely causing Gideon to fly backwards and hit the ground feet away from the steps of the temple.

You glance back at Gideon then return your focus to the open doors and walk in. The wide doors closing shut behind you. You walk down the aisle towards the altar, rows of benches are facing the altar. More blue crystalized glass spreading up and over the room. You envision a sun’s rays seeping through the glass, causing a kaleidoscope of color. You touch the marble altar. It’s coldness stings your skin.

“Mando’ad draar digu.” A voice whispers from behind you. A voice from your past.

You turn and look into the face of your adoptive mother. When your eyes look over her ghostly form you sink to your knees and weep.

“My child. Don’t weep for me.”

“The galaxy is a different place. I was raised by a man, who turns out is my father! He turned me into a weapon! I had to fake my own death just to get out of his grasp! I care for a Mandalorian who will always risk his life to protect those closest to him!”

Your adoptive mother takes a step closer. “And you take the same risk Y/N. You took the risk of faking your death and hiding away from Ramee. You risk your life to protect those on Endor.��

“All because of the creed you instilled in me since I was a young child.” You raise your sleeve and show her the ink of the shriek-hawk on your skin. “You are the only parent I truly ever had. You told me to use my power wisely and carefully but I haven’t. I remained strong and fierce, the best I could do at least. I feel I have failed you.”

Your adoptive mother touches the marking, traces it with her fingers. “Oh, my child. My beloved daughter. You have not failed me! You honor me with so much more than just ink of the jai’galaar.” She reaches out and cups your cheeks in your hands. “Your spirit, your soul honors me. Yes, your father made you into a killer but your soul is free, was always free. You have a family now. They need you, you need them. Your heart aches for your Mando. Don’t be resigned to fate. Let it take you on a journey you never imagined taking. Fate has brought you this far. Fate guided you to your new family. To your Mando. To the green bean.”

You sigh, “I have to give the Gideon the Darksaber.”

“I know you do.”

“I won’t be able to defeat him.”

“Fate my dear child. Fate will always show you the way.” Your adoptive mother smiles widely at you. “I love you.”

You’re left alone at the altar, and you know you have to keep moving forward. You stand and make your way down a set of stairs at the back of the temple. You descend them further into the depths of the crypt housed below the temple.

You turn and face an open cavern with a stone walkway down the middle. Stone statues of Mandalorians on each side watch over you as you walk towards the end. A mural of the Mythosaur covers the wall. The great reptilian beast reminds you of old tales about dragons. Dragons breathed fire, Mythosaurs breathed death since they were ridden by Mandalorians and used to strike down enemies.

You place a hand on the mural and think of the Darksaber hidden behind it. You brought it here after your first kill. You had felt the power it held course through your veins and you didn’t want any more power than what you already had. You had to get rid of it, you had to hide it away from yourself, from your father, from others who wanted it.

It wasn’t until you met Kath when you learned its history, and knew it was safe back on its home planet far from the reaches of anyone. Gideon had told you he had killed for this weapon before, and there was no doubt he’d kill again for it. No doubt he’d kill using it either.

You see the black hilt of the Darksaber in your mind. You feel it in your hand, grasping it tightly. You can see the pointed, curved black blade surrounded by white. You recall feeling the power of a thousand lives inside of you as you wielded the saber and slashed through your first kill ages ago. The Darksaber had become one with you when you killed effortlessly, it held onto you until you hid away. And now you felt the Darksaber holding onto you again – like it had found it’s one true wielder.

You look down and grasp it tightly in your hand. The power inside of it coursing through your veins as you look at it once again.

You hear footsteps behind you but don’t turn.

“Give. It. To me.” Gideon states.

You’re quiet as you face him.

Gideon takes another step closer. “Hand it over Y/N.”

“You’ll never know it’s true power Gideon.” You hiss. “This saber is to lead people, not kill them.”

“I’m going to be its wielder. It will abide by my hand.” Gideon takes another step forward as he raises his blaster. “Give the Darksaber to me.”

You know you will see Gideon again. Fate, you hear your adoptive mother’s voice whisper.

Your only option is to handover the Darksaber to Gideon. You hold out your hand and open it, leaving the Darksaber vulnerable to Gideon’s grasp.

Gideon smirks and swipes it from your hand. “Finally. You’ve come back to me.”

You feel the blaster penetrate your flesh as you hear the hum of the Darksaber come to life. You sink to your knees, feeling your blood boiling towards the surface. Your hands are now against your wound trying to stop your blood from pouring out of your body. You glance up at Gideon, “you’ll never know its true power.”

“I don’t care. I just want it. It’s all I will ever need to rule the galaxy and take down your father.” Gideon says before turning on his heel and leaving you alone.

You collapse forward and smile weakly. Now if only you had the strength to get up. You move to your back and look up at the crypt ceiling, your eyes dart to the stone Mandalorians standing tall above you. You sigh praying to the gods death will come slowly.

-------

Mando returns to Endor, landing the Razor Crest in the same spot it was before he left the green planet to find you. Mando walks into the bunker with anger in his steps. He spots Kath who is holding the kid.

“Where is she?” Kath asks him before he could open his mouth.

“No idea. She left with another Imperial officer.” Mando replies.

“Did you see who it was?”

“Not really. Ramee said she was helping him find a weapon. She knows where it is.”

Kath turns and faces him. “Ramee say what weapon?”

Mando crosses his arms. “No but I’m guessing you probably know.”

Kath sets the kid down, and walks towards a closed door. “If it’s the weapon Y/N told me about—”

“What weapon?” Mando asks.

Kath opens a metal door, revealing a cache of various blasters, rifles, battle axes, and swords. “You ever hear of the Darksasber?”

“No.”

“Made by the first Jedi Mandalorian, it was carried down through his clan then given to those who led the Mandalorians – the Mand’alor, sole ruler. Whoever held the Darksaber, ruled the Mandalorians. There was no doubt in my mind when Y/N told me of her youth, her powers, of what Ramee did to find her, she would eventually become the Mand’alor to keep us together. To keep the Mandalorians safe from the thralls of the Empire.”

“When did you leave Mandalore?”

“During the Great Purge. Ramee initiated it. I fled here where I came across Y/N. We fought because we both wanted to be here then we realized we needed each other more. Shortly after a truce, we found the bunker. Then the enclave of Mandalorians came along, they brought the foundlings too. We are family here Mando. You could be family too. You and the kid.”

“You know her well, don’t you?”

Kath nods. “I do. Four years living together, teaching the foundlings. Surviving. She is my sister Mando. Though no blood is shared. She keeps us safe. She is our Mand’alor.”

Mando’s voice cracks. “That’s why you told me she worth’s protecting? She worth’s so much to all of you?”

Kath sighs, “yes.”

“Do you know where she hid the weapon?” Mando asks.

Kath reaches in and grabs a blaster. She turns and hands it over to Mando. “The weapon she hid was the Darksaber. She took it back where it belongs. Home. On Mandalore.”

-------

“Stay with me child. Stay with me.”

The voice is faint in your mind. It sounds like Ramee. You open your eyes slowly, blink a couple of times. Ramee is crouched over you.

“Stay with me Y/N.”

You groan from the pain. “Let me die.”

“You wish.” Ramee rips some cloth and reaches under you to wrap your wound.

You grimace as he tightens the fabric around your abdomen. “That’s not enough.”

“I know it isn’t but it will have to suffice for now. I can get a fire going then use your sword to cauterize the wound once the blade is hot enough.”

“You better,” you pause. Ramee is saving your life. Is this real? “You better get to it then.”

“Stay awake. Don’t close your eyes.”

All you want to do is close your eyes, sleep then dream. Maybe greet death with open arms. You smile weakly at Ramee. “I’ll try my best.”

Minutes later you hear the crackling of a fire close to you then you feel Ramee raise you up and pull your sword from its casing. Next you feel something at your mouth.

“Water. Drink.” Ramee says.

You open your mouth and gulp down the liquid. “Did you move me?”

Ramee nods as he takes away the canteen then looks down at you. He brushes some of your Y/H/C hair away from your face. “You gave the Gideon the Darksaber?”

“Yes.” You raise your eyebrows. “Did you know he was going to kill me?”

“You aren’t dead yet.” Ramee shakes his head. “No, I didn’t know but I figured he’d want it then turn on me by killing you. He’s wanted the Darksaber for himself since I asked him for it for you. It was to be yours and yours alone. It was to be your weapon, Deathblade’s weapon. Then you hid it away. I knew that much when you returned with a sword instead of the Darksaber. I never asked why you switched. I figured you knew the power it held when wielded by a Force sensitive.”

You did. “It moved with me, flowed with me. It was a part of me when I wielded it and I didn’t want that much power even though it was amazing. I did my first kill then brought it here. Where it belonged. I then went back to Concordia, to the house where…where everything happened and her sword was still there.”

“I had to find you. You are my daughter, my blood.”

“You killed people to find me.” You hiss. The pain throbbing inside of you. “You turned me into a weapon.”

“I showed you how to use your power!”

“For your own personal gain!”

“I,” Ramee hesitates, “I should have been more of a father than a teacher.”

You roll your eyes. “Asking for forgiveness? On my deathbed?”

“You aren’t dead.” Ramee retorts. “Does Gideon know your Mando is the Mandalorian he is looking for?”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw a glimpse of the Mandalorian from Concordia in your mind daughter. You were looking at him with anger, but there was a glimmer of love in your feelings. You said ‘the child’ to him.” Ramee replies.

“I am not pregnant!”

“I then saw a glimpse into his past when I strangled him.”

“You killed him!?” Your voice shouts and cracks at the same time.

“I didn’t kill him daughter. I saw him in your mind and knew I couldn’t do that to you. I saw him on Nevarro with the asset Gideon seeks. Saw him asking you for your help.”

“How do I know you haven’t told Gideon already?”

“You’ll have to take my word.” Ramee says as he moves and grabs the sword. “Are you ready for me to cauterize your wound?”

No. “Yes.”

Ramee moves the fabric of your jacket and tank top up. He loosens the fabric he tied around your abdomen, exposing your flesh. Blood begins seeping out of your wound then Ramee presses the end of the sword to your wound causing you to scream out in agony as you feel the hotness of metal being pressed against your cold flesh.

You move in and out of consciousness. You aren’t sure for how long but you know Ramee is there because he tells you to drinks, tells you to eat. You know you need the water, need the food to survive otherwise you’d die from dehydration and or starvation. He checks on your wound, tells you you’re fine. He’s found some medical supplies and bandages you up, gives you expired pain medicine doses, which seem to still work because they numb your pain for a while then it’s throbbing throughout your body again.

You think of Mando. He’s all you can think about. Your Mando is alive but you don’t know where he is, what he’s doing. You think of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his eyes locked onto your Y/E/C eyes. Your mind wants to know what color his irises are, you need to know what color his hair is. You want a clear picture of him before death embraces you tightly, never intent on letting you go. You plead with the gods to bring your Mando here.

-------

Mando lands the Razor Crest outside of the domed city of Sundari. He makes his way down the cargo ramp and into the quietness of the sands of Mandalore. Mando walks towards the lifted gate and goes under it into the shelter of Sundari’s dome.

He had left the kid in care of Kath and the foundlings. She had wanted to join him but he refused stating the kid would be left in her care, and her care alone.

“Fine with me Mando,” she had said. “Make sure you come back with her this time.”

Mando had nodded once curtly then walked out of the bunker and to his ship. He had plotted the course for Mandalore, a planet he had not once stepped foot on until now.

He made his way through the city and found the tallest building. Its blue crystal glass was beautiful. It reminded him of his home with parents before he was a foundling. The blue crystal glass was the same color as a clear blue sky.

The wide, enormous doors had the skull of the Mythosaur on them. It felt like a warning to him, a warning to stay away. Mando reaches for his blaster and pulls it out as he opens one door slowly. The sound of crackling wood and the smell of a fire greeted him as he walked down the long aisle.

“Hands up!” Ramee’s voice says from behind Mando.

“Where is she?” Mando asks.

Ramee lowers the Cycler rifle. “It’s you.”

Mando turns and lunges at Ramee. He pushes him back up against the door. “Where. Is. She?”

“She’s,” Ramee gasps, “she’s at the altar.”

Mando releases Ramee and jogs down the aisle. There is a fire off to the side then he sees you next to the fire. His heart quickens at seeing you. Mando kneels and touches your face. He sees your chest rising and falling slowly. He reaches for the fabric of your jacket, pulls it back. Pulls back the tank top and sees the fresh wound a blaster made at close range.

“I cauterized the wound with her sword. I’ve been bandaging it.” Ramee says as he takes a knee on the other side of your body.

“Infection?”

Ramee shakes his head. “Nothing. She moves in and out of consciousness. I’ve been feeding her, giving her water. She doesn’t say much but when she does it’s only Mando.”

Mando touches your cheek lightly, then lifts and cradles your body in his arms. He strokes your hair as he places his helmet against your forehead. “I’m here Y/N. I am here.”

-------

You feel as though you are being carried. Death has finally come, you think. Death is carrying me away.

You open your eyes slowly and take in the metal above your eyes. You wonder what death is wearing. You wonder if death is dressed as a Mandalorian. That would be interesting, you think, Death dresses a Mandalorian. Go figure.

You then reach out to the hand on your stomach. You feel the gloved hands, then your hand travels up the arm, coming into contact with a metal shoulder protector. Your hand then travels across the broad shoulder and stops at the helmet. Death won’t mind just a peak, you think as you place your fingers under the helmet.

That’s when a hand stops you and you hear, “Y/N.”

Death sounds awfully like your Mando. “Yes Death?”

“Not Death,” Mando’s voice cracks. “Mando.”

Your hand touches his helmet, you turn his head so he can look at you. You sigh knowing this helmet belongs to Mando. “You found me.”

“I did,” Mando says as he presses his helmet against your forehead. “I want to take you back to Endor. I’m sure Kath and the enclave has better medical supplies to keep you from getting an infection. You can heal quicker with them.”

“Where’s Ramee?” You ask, knowing the man hadn’t left your side because all you would hear was his voice for however long you had been here.

“He left. I told him to leave. I would take care of you.”

You smile. “Then let’s go.”

Mando helps you up onto your feet. He lets you use him as a support as you walk out of the temple. “Your sword?”

You shake your head. “I don’t need it. It’s where it belongs. It was my adoptive mother’s sword.”

Mando nods and helps you out of the domed city and into the arid air of Mandalore. He walks you up the cargo ramp and sits you down in the small bunk. “Rest.”

You look up at him. “Mando.”

Mando closes the ramp then turns back to face you. “You need to rest, heal.”

“I need you,” you sigh as you close your eyes knowing he is right.

He touches your cheek. “I will check on you once I get us on the move.”

You nod as you lie back. Minutes later you feel the Razor Crest lifting off into the air. You reach under your jacket and tank top, finding your wound warm and tender to the touch. You grimace lightly at the pain flowing through your body. Mando told you you needed to rest, to heal, which meant taking it easy but you had almost lost him, he had nearly lost you. You muster all the strength to stand but your legs are weak so you fall backwards onto the bunk. You try to keep your eyes open; you must keep your eyes open. You don’t want Mando to think you are dead when he comes back down to check on you. But they flutter close.

Mando places the Razor Crest on autopilot before making his way back down to the cargo bay. He sees your legs hanging over the bunk as he walks towards you. He sees your eyes closed and your chest rising and falling. She’s alive, is all he can think.

“Mando,” your voice whispers.

Mando slides into the bunk and cups your cheek with a gloved hand. He strokes your skin. “I’m here Y/N.”

“The child,” your voice whispers.

“On Endor.”

“Gideon,” you whisper. “I will die before I let you have them.”

Mando sits on the bunk and pulls you into his arms. He tells himself you are dreaming. He tells himself he won’t let you die for him, die for the kid. He tells himself he will sacrifice himself before he’d let anything happen to you.

Chapter Eight

Tags: @momc95​, @cosmo-bear​

[starfaring-princelotor]

Fourth Taste

Summary: Emperor Lotor finally achieves his life-long goal.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.  ★

Warnings: N/A.

A/N: In light of S8, I am making my own canon interpretations.

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

Allura was never one for sitting idly when there was work to be done. She supposed that was another thing she had in common with Lotor. With their advancements on the Sincline ships thanks to her knowledge gained from Oriande, it would only be a matter of time before her - their goal of peace can be achieved. So, why then, was she here of all places?

���Hm,” you removed the stethoscope from her back then unplugged them from your ears, “When was the last time you had a good night's rest?”

“Oh, I...A few days ago, just after we planned to bring in leaders from neighboring planets for a diplomatic - “ she paused, noticing you staring unblinkingly and rather sternly at her, “Ah, yes, well, I suppose it has been quite some time.”

“You may feel fine, Allura, but the overexertion is taking a bigger toll on you than you think.” Arms crossed, you glanced down at your screen, “The reason why you fainted earlier could be due to stress.” “Doctor, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine, really. Coran has been making sure I eat my meals and Lotor even suggested I get myself checked out. That’s why I am here. I assure you, I’ve never felt better.”

Silence. If there was one thing she found unnerving, it was that you were always the quiet, unflinching type. Your eyes never left hers, but Allura stood firm and smiled softly to show that, really, this was unnecessary. Alteans and humans have different bodies and tolerance levels for stress, so the Princess was unsure why you were intent on keeping her here any longer when she could be helping Lotor.

“Your blood pressure is a little high and I noticed an odd heart palpitation during the examination. Allura, both of these combined can be the cause of your fainting spell. Are you aware of any heart conditions or possible illnesses that would otherwise affect your daily activities?”

She was an alchemist. These body issues are something she doesn’t understand. She opened her mouth to answer, but found that she didn’t actually have one.

“How long has this been going on? The stress.”

Allura shook her head, knowing that denying won’t help, “Aren’t we all stressed from this war? I must do everything I can to help, surely you understand.”

“I do understand - “

Part of her really doubted that and much of that doubt came from her distrust in you.

“-but Allura, you are more helpful alive than stuck in a coma.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been with you since Shiro located me. I have made sure you’re all in top fighting form, both in body and mind,” a pause as you gathered your thoughts carefully, “I know of your sacrifices, your many sacrifices, and as a doctor, I would like to make sure you are fine mentally. It may not be obvious, but mental health can have direct consequences on the body if left untreated over a long period of time.”

“Doctor, I assure you, I am not mentally ill,” a tone of finality, of we will speak of this no more.

Allura shifted off the table to fully stand, the conversation making her slightly uncomfortable. She was a PRINCESS. She was fine, she knows her limits, why weren’t you listening to her? No matter, there were more important things to do at hand. She was not crazy or whatever you were hinting at. She was NOT. She was just...tired. Yes. She needed rest.

You thought otherwise based on your expertise, but there was nothing you could do to make her see that maybe, just maybe, the life and death sacrifices, the times she survived, the fighting, supporting Voltron, all of it, were red flags at a crumbling mentality. Yes, this is war. No one you knew came out the same or even sane. You knew that all too well.

“Alright. The quintessence in your body is being drained at an exceedingly fast rate, which I can only assume is because of the Sincline ships being created.” Turning to the cabinet, you read over the labels carefully, “Ah. Here. This medicinal powder is made from Balmeran herbs. Mix it in your drink in the morning and it should rejuvenate your body from over straining your quintessence levels. Do not forget to rest more.”

If there was one thing you would need time adjusting to, it was technology. Not so much the weapons or the ships. You were familiar with the medical tools at your disposal, but the simple things like this tended to really bring home the fact that you were in space. You were far from the planet you were born in, even if it looked exactly the same last time you were there.

The sand. The ocean. The clouds and the palm trees and the little crabs scuttling away from you. And yet...

Lotor’s footsteps echoing the room was the only thing reminding you this was not real. You turned to face his approaching form, the door behind blending perfectly with the technological mirage. You won’t lie, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Full body armor in an otherwise peaceful paradise - well, a paradise to others - wasn’t exactly fun in the sun wear.

“A beach?” he stated, taking a few seconds to observe the details around him. “You know, good doctor, you are by no means tethered here with ball and chain. If you wish to take a personal leave, I can provide you with an escort to the nearest aquatic planet.”

The Emperor crouched and sat besides you as the imitation waves lapped at both of your covered feet, then after a few seconds, you spoke up, “That’s not necessary. I was just curious to see if this room worked as well as I heard. The Castle of Lions has the same simulator chambers, but it isn’t suited for any other species except Alteans.”

This was such a peaceful scene. The sun was setting, throwing the sky under a spill of angry red and fiery orange rays. Birds were skimming across the horizon. The glow, oh, the glow was just as you remembered it. The sound of rustling trees tingled your ears despite the fact that there was no wind brushing against your skin. No spray of the ocean, no chill of an oncoming night. No wetness from the water.

Fake, but real enough.

“Hunk helped re-calibrate some of the more...technical settings. I was just the guinea pig,” fingers raked through the sand, but you felt none of the grainy texture, “You may change it, if you want.”

“On the contrary, I would like to see more,” Lotor suggested, but you refused him with a shake of your head, “No? Then may I ask about this place?”

You nodded.

“This is Earth, I presume? Your home?”

“No, not mine. My father’s home. This is where he was born,” short answer, but it was detailed enough for him, “...I visited after he died, when I was honorably discharged. This was my first time seeing it.”

Now, Lotor was no blind man. He was no fool. For every moment you shared with him, he took with an ounce of gratitude. Expecting any more than you were willing to give would only make his itch unbearably annoying to hold back. Tempering himself to not push so hard, not yet, the act of discovery is only half the fun, was difficult. So, he liked to work with what he got.

“The ocean swallowed his home island the year after. It doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You miss it,” Lotor stated based on the far-away glaze in your eyes.

“I miss what I could’ve experienced growing up there. But miss it? No, not particularly,” perhaps the disconnect should have worried you after all this time, “Do you have something like that, my Emperor?”

Somewhere he missed, somewhere he could have experienced great things growing up there? Yes, but the simulator works off memories and how could he possibly have memories of extinct planets? Lotor closed his eyes, letting the computer change the room from soothing sunsets to complete darkness, then slowly rebuilt from the ground up. White water, a pinkened sky, ancient buildings of Altean knowledge.

“Where is this?” your curious voice asked, clearly interested in this somewhat heaven-esque world.

“Oriande. Beautiful, is it not?”

You said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Pretty? Yes, but what truly made a place special was the context behind it and you were interested in what story he had to share, what piece of himself he gave in return for your vulnerability. A fair exchange of sorts, one you both agreed to long ago.

“I always wanted to be an explorer when I was younger and finding Oriande was the pinnacle of my discovery,” he started with a bit of a bitter undertone, “An honorably revered homage to the Alteans of old and the secrets they keep there. Truly, it was an experience I would never forget.”

Yes, he did not gain the knowledge of alchemy, but just finding the place was good enough. Just one of his childhood dreams achieved, to retain a piece of his lost heritage. You two soaked in the ambiance of the view. Him, reflecting on his actions and his choices. You, committing that his lost Altean history is what pushed him to strive for the urge of discovery in the first place.

Soon enough, the imagery faded and the lights revealed an empty, blank room, “Shall we, good doctor? I believe I have an appointment with you soon.”

Lotor stood to his full height, a hand held out in offering. You accepted with little hesitation on your end.

“Emperor Lotor, I have a request.”

Both of them paused their work to face you, Allura from the ship and Lotor from the screen. Normally, it would be ideal to take whatever proper procedures you needed to formally ask for access, but by now you figured that you were somewhat in the Emperor’s good graces. You approached him just as the Princess grouped up, as well.

“What is it, good doctor? Did you need more of my blood samples?”

“No, I have enough,” you pulled out the black vial and Allura’s brows rose, “I’d like to have access to the quintessence stock in order for me to experiment with combining its properties with this.”

Ah, yes. The miracle drug that saved your life. He was able to break down the components with the sample you gave him, but was otherwise unable to explore its properties any further. Perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity for you to carry on his work while he continued with -

“Absolutely not,” Allura spoke, making both heads turn, “Certain quintessence can lead to harmful effects if used improperly.” “I am aware. I have read about it and this is why I believe it can help completely bypass the after effects when administering this drug,” you argued back, perhaps a little offended she thought so careless of you, “If it works, then I can mass produce this and aid those who need it. Like the Coalition forces. I know they lack medical supplies for refugees- “

“We can not risk over exposure of quintessence to those who are sensitive to it,” the Princess interrupted, your lip twitched, “Perhaps after the ships are made, I can lend a hand with your research. This is too dangerous work with alone.”

You kept your lips sealed in a firm line, completely unsatisfied with her answer. Yes, you read Honerva’s research. Yes, you finished reading upon Galra biology down to a molecular level. Yes, you knew what you were doing. Using the drug on yourself proved it worked with humans, but other species? Galras? Taujereens? Olkarions? You must perfect it before introducing it to other scientists for aid.

Lotor placed a hand on her shoulders, “Allura, I think this is an excellent opportunity at hand. Doctor, I will give you access to certain strains of quintessence that our own medical officers have used before. There are some notes on file when I started my own experiments with the Witigue drug. They are yours.”

“Thank you, my Emperor,” you gave him a curt nod, “When the both of you have the time, I would appreciate it if you overlooked my work. It would help to have pairs of fresh eyes to collaborate with me and make sure the quintessence is as useful as weapons as it is for healing.”

Allura’s concerned expression only grew more worried. Infusing quintessence and medicine? Nothing of the sort has been done before since quintessence on its own was already useful, though she knew not every unique body would accept it without harmful after effects. Perhaps Lotor was right. The sooner you cracked the code, created a drug every species can use, then the sooner the people can start healing from the war.

You stared holes into her back as she walked away. This was why you willingly joined Lotor. She held you back whereas he encouraged your freedom. And yet, it still did not get through to her that she may be a Princess, but you were not her subject. And you swore you would never blindly take orders from higher ups again.

“Anything else I can help you with, doctor?”

“Not now. We shall discuss more...later.”

Lotor was a man of luxury. Did he have it in his life? During his exiled years, no, he did not. He struggled some nights to survive the cold and there were days he was ever so grateful to have a roof over his head. Now, as Emperor, it took awhile for him to adjust to the lush lifestyle. Imagine his surprise when he found you sitting on the edge of his bed, patiently waiting for him.

“Are the rooms not up to your standards, darling?”

“No, they are fine, my Emperor.”

His ears twitched at that title leaving your lips.

“Then, pardon my assumption, do you wish to sleep here tonight?” he boldly suggested with an easy, welcoming smile on his lips.

“Perhaps, but that’s not why I am here,” you said, “I wanted to give you an update on my research. If you have the time, that is.”

“Allura has decided to call it a night and there is not much I can do without her alchemic powers. Come, may I join you?”

What an odd thing to hear. Lotor asking permission to be in his own bed. An Emperor, nonetheless. Either way, you nodded, and he headed to his closet to begin undressing. You turned away to give him some modesty while he stripped his armor off. Since when did it bother you to look at him? You’ve seen his body in the office. This...this was a different setting.

“I managed to isolate the compound that triggers the residual pain - “

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him starting to peel his body suit down to his hips before slipping on a modest shirt.

“- and the medical officers were able to greatly help speed up the process. We have not yet tested it - “

Lotor tugged the rest of his suit down, letting it fall as he stepped out of it. The dark room did well to shadow his chiseled body and make his sharp features look even more prominent. His toned legs and smooth thighs soon became covered by silken fabric, fingers deftly tying the string in place.

“ - and...that is why I am here. Although I have completed step one faster than I expected, we have not been able to proceed to step two. Experimentation.”

Though, you highly doubted space mice were an available option to choose from, especially since you were sure Allura would straight up drain your life force with a blink of an eye. No, you needed to find an animal that had the same biological properties like an Altean or a Galra, but you were unaware if such creatures even exist anymore.

“Ah, yes. How can one check the efficiency of an experiment without a test subject?” Lotor mused, stepping to the other side of the bed before taking a seat, his weight leaving an indentation, “No space bunnies available, hm?”

Lotor leisurely laid on his side, arm propping up his head, then stared at you. Or rather, observed. Shoulders were lax, expression calm, the gears in your mind turning as you gazed right back at him. Of course, he himself was the epitome of relaxed right now. He gets to keep his brain occupied with another little experiment in his claws. You.

“I...suppose I can work with them. It may take weeks or months to finalize a firm result, though.”

“How about me?”

“What about you?”

You tilted your head a bit with your brows lowered in suspicion. Was he insinuating what you think he was? And why did he look so...willing to do it? His lids were hooded and you could see that there were shadows under his eyes. Overworked? You wouldn’t be surprised. Both Allura and Lotor didn’t know their limits. It will get them killed one day. Or maybe, they weren’t aware of their body’s limits?

“Why not try experimenting on me? After Sincline is finished, of course,” Lotor’s voice was steady, yet strangely flippant as if he wasn’t suggesting live experimentation on PEOPLE.

“I do not think...that would be wise, Emperor Lotor.”

“What is your second choice?”

Second choice? Second choice was...using it on yourself. It isn’t like you haven’t injected Witigue within your body before and you were confident in your knowledge of chemistry and molecular biology. You could handle it, you’ve done it plenty of time to ensure your own survival. Now, though, it would be in the name of science.

“Myself.” “Hm. Me, or you,” he played with those few words, knowing that now your blurred morality line would be almost impossible to differentiate, “I swore I would let you explore my body. This is part of it and in the name of science, I am willing to do it. We need not smear protocol for this, good doctor.”

I am doing this to keep my end of the deal.

Judging by your silence, you were honestly considering it.

“I will...try to find alternatives before taking your options as a last resort.”

He had expected you to promptly leave after that final word, but imagine his surprise when instead, you casually laid in his bed. Interesting, but not at all unwanted. Lotor opened the blankets in offering, thinking that perhaps you would not mind another night of his arms securing you while you slept.

In all honesty, he wasn’t tired at all. The thrill of being so close to his goal, reaching peace within the empire, unlimited quintessence -

“What are your next plans after this?”

Lotor leisurely slid his arm around your waist, not tugging, but you weren’t pulling away either. In fact, his eyes dilated when he felt the tips of your fingers skim over his covered hip in an almost teasing adventure. Once your palm fully rested on the dip of his waist, you sidled up to his chest as you kept your gaze firm with his. The question. What do you plan on doing?

“Planets whose resources are critically strained due to my father’s unsustainable practices will be tended to first. A little humanitarian services is long overdue, no? We will need the Olkari’s help on this. Having their engineering knowledge may further aid in siphoning and transporting quintessence across the universe.”

A noble choice after ending the war. Unlike Lance, you knew that just releasing enslaved planets when their resources were otherwise drained to near unreparable would only end up sentencing them to starvation and death. Ten thousands years made societies rely on the Empire for survival, even if the decision was ultimately out of their hands.

“With Voltron and Sincline, I can begin work to restore the Empire as a whole. Those who claimed disloyalty and wrought destruction in the wake of my crowning will be stopped,” Lotor paused, only because he hadn’t noticed your hand had made its way up to his cheek, “Times are changing for the better. And those who do not change with it, will…”

You cupped his jaw, stroked his cheekbones softly, and he unceremoniously let out a big yawn with his fangs glinting in the night. A content groan escaped his chest, now realizing how comfortable he was. How his mind seemed to have calmed down from the days’ rushing thoughts. Did this pillow always feel so good? Or the comforter so warm? Ah, the luxuries. It made him weak.

“Do you plan on staying?”

Lotor’s eyes slid closed.

“Staying with…”

Me.

“Doctor, you checked them out for flight, yes?”

“Yes, Coran. Physically, they are fit. I saw no problems with their body’s health and I did make sure they had a full days rest before today’s launch.”

Coran’s concerns were coming from a good place, you knew. He was practically Allura’s father at this point, watching over her and giving advice when needed. Even sharing the same pain and comforting each other in the face of a daunting reality that they were both the last living Alteans in the universe. You understood their connection. Perhaps not relating to it, but you understood it.

“Shouldn’t we be a little more concerned about this? I mean, last time anyone went in the quintessence field, Zarkon turned evil,” Lance piped in, clearly disgruntled by the entire plan.

“Zarkon fell prey to his own evil instincts,” your attention switched to Shiro, “The quintessence field didn’t create them. It revealed them.”

No. That wasn’t right. You read Honerva’s research, handled quintessence yourself, and there was nothing that supported his claim. Then again, Shiro faced Zarkon himself. He battled him for the lion, but just based on your own findings, it felt like something was...missing. A major component about the Rift and the quintessence. If what he said was true, then either you were immune to it or you were unaware of the effects.

But you felt fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, except perhaps feeling a little more...light around Lotor. You were more inclined to believe that was just the friendship between you two. The growing something between you two. Something you only saw as respect for him. Lotor only solidified that respect when you told him no a week ago.

Of course you expected him to listen as anyone should, but you noticed he did more than that.

“We’re prepared just in case there is an accident,” you explained to the group, “If the quintessence does anything to their bodies, I will be the first to know. The second they are heading back, I assure you, I'll run a full physical on the both of them. Right now, I have their vitals up on my screen.”

Part of you was also...excited about this discovery. Was quintessence the true reason why the universe fell into 10,000 years of suffering and loss?

So far, nothing strange. Perhaps their hearts picked up the closer they got to the ruined Daibazaal remains, perhaps your own was beating loudly in your chest as Coran counted down until the ship would reach the gate. You didn’t care for war. You didn’t. You cared that there was something left afterwards, something that would show you there was a future for all.

The chart readings went blank the second the ship disappeared in a blinding light.

“You know, Shiro, I never did like waiting,” you told him out of the blue as seconds turned to minutes, “That’s what I like about you. The soldiers get jobs done, the medics wait for the inevitable.”

He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, understanding your message that would have been odd or offensive to any other person in the room. War does that to people. They force strangers to connect in a bond no other could experience. You couldn't say this to Coran or Hunk and expect them to know what nonsense you were spouting without giving you some form of pity. Giving you distance with a cautious gaze. Isolating you.

Shiro took a deep breath. He knows what you’re asking.

Is this the end of it all?

“Don’t worry, doctor. You know what I always say. Patience yields - “

The blaring red screen cut him off suddenly, announcing that there was something wrong. No, not wrong, just an incoming ship? Your brows furrowed in confusion. They couldn’t be back already. Your screen didn't pick up their returning vitals. Everyone’s eyes focused on the large screen showing a very much different ship than they expected. Wasn’t that...an Altean pod?

“Shiro, it’s Keith.”

“Keith! A-Are you okay?”

“Where’s Lotor?”

And just like that, the air in the room became cold. Frigid.

“Emperor Lotor is with Allura in the quintessence field. They managed to get through and should be returning shortly with their results,” you explained, to which Keith only replied with two words.

“Oh, no.”

Everyone went down to the docking station, you included. Keith sounded grim, you could even go as far to say a bit scared. The sound of the ship opening was unsettling and when he finally approached you all, that’s when you noticed he looked different. Vastly different from the last time you saw him at the coalition headquarters. He was more...stern. Unmoving. Resolute in his eyes.

“We need to stop Lotor. He’s been lying to all of us!”

“Wh-Lying? About what?” Shiro asked, hesitated in asking, and it was rare he was ever caught off guard.

“Everything!”

The sound of a new voice demanding attention left everyone shocked in surprise. And, ashamed to say, even you. Two women and a wolf? A Galra who wore the same suit as Keith and an Altean, an actual Altean, revealed themselves. The group began bombarding the newcomers with questions, Keith too, but the only thing you could focus on was the little girl.

Another Altean. A living Altean. Something...something was not right. Something was missing.

Your mind reverted back to your old habits. Everything you thought of, from meeting Lotor up until now, nothing seemed out of place. You had every information available at your beck and call. Everything about him you discovered on your own. Everything about Lotor and his motives for a better future. This...this life long experiment couldn’t be a mistake. It couldn’t.

You both entered this with a mutual agreement of respect in mind. The evidence was clear as day. So then, why the accusations against him? Why was the mere presence of this Altean setting your mind on edge? Why did that seething tone in her voice send a familiar chill down your spine? And why was it hard to breath?

“This is Romelle. And I think she should tell her own story.”

[davebowlin]

The Turtle God

The only pleasure I’ve found in the past few years has been staring at the lily pads that float atop the water in this little pond. Their calm swaying to the rippling water soothes this eternal ache in my heart, breaks the sorrow of my mind and gives me a few precious moments of relief. It’s the simplest things that can keep a man sane when everything else is madness.

Perhaps madness is too strong a word, but you’ll have to decide that yourself. Am I mad? Am I insane? Clearly. So are you. No? Prove me wrong. Do you tear the little tags off the mattresses even though it is against the law? Do you curse while cutting the grass, and immediately afterward turn the sprinkler on, causing it to grow again? Madness, you can’t deny it. Only the insane have need of mattresses with tags that read Do Not Remove This Tag.

I wasn’t always insane, hard as that is to believe now. My daughter and my wife pushed me over the edge of sanity three years ago, and every day since then has been a struggle. They didn’t do it intentionally, don’t misunderstand me. It wasn’t their lives or actions that brought about my understanding of sanity and the acceptance of the insane.

It was their deaths.

Three years can seem like an eternity. Maybe it is an eternity, and the passage of time is an illusion where all the insane people of the world play a game of make believe. A game called normalcy or perhaps adaptability. Civilization, it could be called. Reality could be another name for it. Whatever name we tag it with, the game is still a world of make believe and occasionally someone figures it out.

What do we do with those who break the barrier of delirium, who grasp the concept that all is madness? We lock them away. We give them rubber dolls to play with, straight jackets and padded cells. Insane, we call them. Raving lunatics. We hire medical doctors and mind doctors to study them in a desperate attempt to understand our own mortality. We try to comprehend why these rational people suddenly become psychotic and dangerous. “The poor dear,” we are heard to say. “He lost his wife and child, and now he’s unstable.” Isn’t it obvious? I see it so clearly now. How could I have missed it for so many years? The blindness of civilization, I can only guess. The desperate attempt to rationalize all that isn’t readily explainable.

This, above all, is clearly madness.

Explain to me the rationality of my wife and little girl burning to death. Where’s the sense in that? A faithful wife that loved everyone and an innocent child are murdered by Life and losers and you dare call that sane? I wonder if you would feel the same if it had been your wife and your child that died such horrible deaths. I think you might be the one wearing this jacket and eating your meals with plastic spoons instead of me.

You say I’m crazy, and I haven’t disagreed. Even now you shake your head at me, so sure of your intellectual supremacy. Careful, doctor. As your field is so fond of saying: The line between madness and genius is very thin. I think it’s not only thin, but nonexistent. Beethoven is a perfect example. A man who is deaf and blind writes music that he can’t hear, and we call him brilliant. How can we judge? Perhaps to him it was ludicrous. History teaches that he was a genius. Yet, I wonder what Beethoven thought of himself. I think he knew he was stark raving mad. Why else would a deaf man write music?

Another example for you. Alexander the Great. The conqueror! He strove to conquer the world, and very nearly succeeded. We celebrate his brilliance and greatness, we honor his name as one of the greatest military minds ever. At the same time, by the same standards, we detest the very mention of Hitler. Wasn’t he also a genius? How can one be considered brilliant and the other insane? Surely not by the degree of their achievements.

I grow tired of your questioning, Doctor.

Yes, the lily pads. That’s why I am a guest in this fine establishment, isn’t it? The lily pads. I ache to see them again, though I think I will never have this one small pleasure, and so I am sinking farther and farther into the raging blankness that is madness. He took them away, he took all of them away.

You know of whom I am speaking! Why do you ask me this every day? Would it not prove my insanity to you if I denied it after repeating the same story to you each day? Would you believe me after all this time?

Fine. One more time, and then please leave me. It’s late, and I’m very tired.

There is a pond on Barnes Street. The little brick and stucco houses that surround it cuddle their families within, the typical American middle class neighborhood. Backyard barbecues, baseball games, and bicycles. We lived there, right across the street from the pond, and every Saturday we would go fishing there, though we never caught anything. We didn’t try, really; it was just for spending time together.

Damn you, Doctor Brine! Damn these tears and damn you for making me relive these memories every fucking day! She’s gone, you son of a bitch, she’s gone and she’s not coming back! They’re both gone. Why don’t you just leave me alone?

Just shut up and listen, Doctor. I don’t need or want to hear your analytical bull shit right now. You wanted the story, here it is.

They died in a house fire, but you already know that, don’t you? Two teenagers broke in while I was at work. They were looking for something to sell to get another fix, another shot of that crystal shit everyone’s hooked on these days. More proof that we’re all mad. We live with death just a neighbor away…

They died in the house fire while I was at work. Nothing could have saved them, I’m told. The fire spread too rapidly, and they were tied up in the basement. Woke up to the burglar alarm blaring, but too late, no escape. One of the teenagers cut the alarm circuit though, and the other one started rummaging through the house. Guess he ran across my wife and little girl trying to get out the back door, at least that’s what the police say. Shoved them down in the basement, tied them up with some electrical wire. Police sirens sounded in the distance, and they panicked, set the house on fire to cover their fingerprints, and left. One of the neighbors heard my little girl screaming, Doctor. Heard my wife singing to her at the top of her lungs, trying to comfort her even though she surely must have realized they were going to die. Can you imagine even for a minute what it’s like for me to close my eyes each night knowing that my little girl’s last breath was a scream of terror? Fuck you.

I don’t care.

No. You wanted the story, you’re getting it.

One of the little fucks set the house on fire before they left, with my wife and little girl tied up in the basement. I was called by the police chief to come home, there was a problem. I rushed home to find it ruined, and my wife and little girl already being taken to the morgue. The charade of sanity and the little house with the perfect family was shattered forever. I don’t pretend anymore. There’s no reason. How can people kill like that, Doctor? How can they murder innocent kids and women? They’re in prison, I’m told, but they’re still breathing. People like that, Doctor, people like that have a hole in them somewhere, probably where their hearts are suppose to be. A murder hole, I guess it’d be called. That’s all it’s good for anyway, just a dead, empty space that allows them to rip families apart, to murder people just to get high. And you call me insane? I wonder about you, Doctor, you and the rest of the world, sitting out there so sure of your safety and sanity. You never know, Doctor, you just never know.

My family was murdered and I was left with nothing. As the weeks passed, I couldn’t stay away from where our house had been, but I couldn’t stand to look at it either. So, I started sitting on the bank of the pond, watching the lily pads float back and forth on the water. So gentle. They remind me of an angel’s dancing steps: soft, peaceful and calming. I’d stare at them for hours at a time, heedless of the weather or the time of day. It was the only place I could feel close to them, and I needed to feel them with me, my wife and little girl. How’s that for crazy, Doctor? Oh, normal, you say. I guess I should have known. Anything that appears crazy isn’t, and what doesn’t, is.

Anyway, that’s when it happened.

I went back to the pond one Saturday night, just as I had almost every day for two years. I got out of my car, looked across the pond – but there were no lily pads. They were gone, every one of them. I started screaming, and everyone in the neighborhood came running. I guess they thought someone had fallen in the water, I don’t know. But they all came running.

“Where are they?” I was in hysterics by this time. I guess I looked insane just then. How ironic. “Where are the lily pads?”

Everyone looked at me, then at the pond.

After a few seconds of confusion, Fred Dallents spoke up. “What lily pads?”

I couldn’t believe it. They were gone, and everyone was looking at me like I had lost my mind. “The lily pads! The lily pads that have been all over this pond since before any of us even lived here! The fucking lily pads! Where are they?”

Mothers pulled their children closer to them, and started backing away. The men looked apprehensive, and began eyeing each other nervously.

“Ray,” Fred said, “there’s never been lily pads in that pond.”

“What?” I screamed. “What! How can you say that? I’ve been coming here for the past two years to watch them. Jan and I fished in this pond for three years before that! Don’t tell me they weren’t there! I’ve seen them a thousand times!” Strange looks from my neighbors and a few muffled tears from the children brought my temper under control. “Fred, they were there yesterday, I swear to God. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember, and now they’re gone–“

That’s when I saw Him. His eyes were there, right there in the open. How I could have missed them before is a mystery to me. Two yellow eyes, full of the wisdom of the ages. Patience was what I saw there. And peace. My voice caught in my throat, and I could only stare at Him. Slowly, He swam to the edge of the pond where I was standing, and then He raised His head out of the water.

“It’s okay, Ray. They can’t see me, or hear me. I can hear you if you’d care to talk.”

The voice was in my mind, but it rang as loud and clear as the voice of a minister bleating about damned souls screaming in hell’s darkest pit. Seconds passed, and I noticed that everyone was staring at me again, and trying to see what I was looking at. A giant turtle, utterly invisible to everyone but me.

“What are you?” I managed after a while. I wasn’t paying attention to the crowd now; my mind and eyes were completely fixed on this turtle that was smiling at me with what seemed sadness in his eyes.

“I’m the Turtle God.”

“The Turtle God? What’s a turtle god?���

“I am. I protect and maintain the turtles around the world. I am their god.”

My mind did somersaults. I really thought I was going crazy then, but as I’ve told you, that moment was when I realized that we’re all mad. My neighbors were hearing my side of this conversation, and thought I was going insane from grief. How could I be talking to a god, much less a turtle god, if I weren’t crazy? What strikes me odd is that I’d never considered that there could be such a thing as a turtle god before. Why not? We go to church and worship a god, don’t we? Why not a protector of turtles? I think it proves once again that we are indeed insane, the whole lot of us. After all, I don’t see turtles killing each other in the name of their god. Only humans. Makes one wonder, doesn’t it?

In that moment of clarity it all made sense to me. We’re all insane, and we’re all blind.

“Do you know what happened to the lily pads?” I asked.

“Yes,” came the throaty reply from the Turtle God. “I took them away.”

I was dumbfounded. “Why? Why did you take them away? They were the only thing in the world that relieves my grief. I’ve never harmed you, I’ve never harmed a turtle in my life. Why would you do this to me?”

Patience swam in his eyes. I could feel it washing over me in waves, the patience and compassion of a true god, ageless and full of grace.

“It was nothing that you did, Ray. I took them away to prevent another person from feeling the pain of loss that you’ve felt for the past two years. You see that man standing beside you? His little girl was going to come out here tonight and chase some frogs. She was fated to fall into the pond, and she would have drown.”

He paused, and his eyes focused on a little blond girl standing beside Jake Dickens. Maria Dickens, a nine year old angel. She had been my daughter’s best friend. Tears leaked from the corner of the turtle god’s eyes, and he continued.

“She would have died tonight because she would have chased a frog into the pond. After seeing you suffer because of the loss of your little girl, I couldn’t bear to see it happen to another if I could prevent it.” He looked back at me. “So, I took the lily pads away. They’ve never been here, Ray, as far as everyone else is concerned. I left them in your memory because you enjoyed them so much.”

Anger swelled in my heart, though I’m ashamed to admit it now. “If you’re a god, then why didn’t you save my little girl and my wife? Why did you let them die in that fire?”

The answer was slow, but it was the truth; I’ve no doubt about that.

“I have no control over fire, Ray. Just turtles, and the things that surround them.”

I saw a pain in His eyes then. He would have given his own immortal life to bring my little girl and wife back to me if it were possible. Instead, he did what he could to prevent another man from going through this pain that I live with each day.

That makes Him a god to me, Doctor.

No lily pads, no frogs. No drowning.

I visited Him each day, and spent many long nights talking with Him about various things. I enjoyed His company, and He enjoyed mine. Until I found myself here, talking to you.

It’s been a year, Doctor. I’m ready to go home now. No? I didn’t think so. Please leave me, Doctor. I’ve lost everything, so please leave me now.

* * *

“What do you think, Doctor Brine?”

“He’s a nut, Charlie. A complete madman. Turtle God! Still, I guess losing a wife and a child at one time would make any man a basket case, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess it would. Hey, you wanna go get a beer? The bowling alley’s still open. We could get a few games in.”

“Sure, sounds good. Being around all these crazy people all day stresses me out…” Dr. Brine paused, tilted his head sideways, staring into space. After a few seconds, he laughed and shook his head. “Wouldn’t it be great though. I mean, if there were such a thing as gods watching over us all? Even a Turtle God would be better than no god.”

* * *

There is a pond on Barnes Street, surrounded by brick and stucco houses. A typical American middle class neighborhood, with baseballs, bicycles, and backyard barbecues. Watching over them all is a god, a turtle god. His is a thankless job, but he’s always there, always watching, protecting when he can. Perhaps, just perhaps there’s a god in your neighborhood too.

[ end ]

[oselatra]

'Too far to turn back now'

The Nine and Clinton condemn Trump, recall past.

It was four days of standing ovations, heartfelt cheers for the Little Rock Nine, applause and reminders that there is still much to do in the way of race relations in America: Thursday's press conference given by the Nine where they talked about such things as the retribution their parents faced for letting them desegregate Central High in 1957. Saturday's house brought down by a feisty, funny, fabulous Mavis Staples urging the crowd at the Robinson Center Performance Hall to respect themselves. Atlanta's Ebenezer Baptist Church pastor's rousing praise of the bravery of the Little Rock Nine at Sunday's interfaith service and his truth-telling about America's original sin of slavery and its continuing harm. Monday morning's commemoration, a call to arms to not let what the Nine went through be for nothing. The names of the Nine — including that of the late Jefferson Thomas — were repeated and repeated and repeated, and every time the people stood and clapped loud and long. They lauded the Nine, now eight, to make it last, because who knows what the number of these heroic figures will be at the 70th anniversary. That's why, Melba Pattillo Beals told the Times last week, she knew the eight survivors would make the trip to Little Rock. "We might not see each other again," she said.

At Monday morning's commemoration at Central High, exactly 60 years to the day the Little Rock Nine were escorted into school by the 101st Airborne, an empty chair on stage was draped with a stole of Central's gold and black, in remembrance of Jefferson Thomas, who died in 2010. "He was the one with the sense of humor," Carlotta Walls LaNier recalled when it came her time to speak. In a 2007 interview with Thomas, he quipped that he didn't have any problem with maintaining a non-violent position in the face of violence. "I was a good runner.")

Dignitaries gathered Monday to honor the Nine included former President Bill Clinton; Governor Hutchinson; Mayor Mark Stodola; Dr. Sybil Hampton, the first African-American to attend Central for all high school years and graduate; Rev. LaVerne Bell-Toliver; and two past student body presidents of Central.

Henry Louis Gates, the noted African-American scholar, writer and TV and radio host, added extra star power. He said he felt like he was visiting a "religious shrine." And if it is a shrine, he said, the Little Rock Nine are "the saints."

Members of the Nine spoke. Beals, who lives in the San Francisco Bay Area, said it was a "joy" to return and to see, for example, people of color as police officers. And she said not all those with whom she attended school with her were unfriendly.

Elizabeth Eckford, who lives in Little Rock, talked of the silence the Nine kept for some 30 years. She began talking when she heard recollections "foreign to my experience here." True reconciliation, she said, is possible only when all acknowledge a painful and shared past.

Ernest Green, of Washington, D.C., said the Nine hadn't aspired to make history. They wanted what the Constitution afforded and what their parents had paid taxes for. He said he dug in his heels after being initially denied admittance.

Green referenced the Arkansas Times cover that posed the question about Central 60 years later: "Progress?"

He said he'd put it, "Progress ellipsis." He said, "Progress is not a single action or moment. It is the small mundane everyday action." A Muhammad Ali becomes a Colin Kaepernick, he said by way of pointed example.

Gloria Ray Karlmark, who lives in Amsterdam, said she never thought she'd be here today, but "it feels pretty good." She recalled getting a yearbook on the final day of school. She was 15. She knew others signed books. "Who would I dare go up to and ask to sign my book?" As she stood there, Becky, a girl she'd secretly exchanged notes with, came up and signed the book. Then another girl signed and wrote, "In another age, we could have been friends."

Carlotta Walls LaNier, who lives in Denver, said City Manager Bruce Moore had asked her more than a year ago for ideas about this week's events. "I would like to have dinner in the White House with President Hillary Clinton," she told him. The crowd applauded.

"But this is the second best, being here."

She said the Nine were worried when finally admitted. They were behind. They didn't know what the year would hold or how Gov. Orval Faubus would continue to affect their experience. She recalled how Gov. Bill Clinton welcomed them in 1987 and how Hillary Clinton, who'd been ill, came downstairs and talked with the Nine until the early morning along with City Director Lottie Shackelford. The welcome 10 years later was "overwhelming and kind and gracious. It was well-meaning and heartfelt."

At the 50th, the Little Rock Nine Foundation had begun to help students to go to college. They were happy, she said. They had a place in the national civil rights movement.

And now, through "45," or President Trump and his Twitter account, she finds something of a return to where people were 60 years ago. But she cited the old spiritual, "We have come too far to turn back now."

Terrence Roberts, who lives in California, said he didn't come to celebrate. "That time has not yet come." From his perspective, he'd first want that the crisis hadn't happened. And he has a vision of a "war against the forces determined to maintain the status quo." He said "willful ignorance" is one of the most deadly sins we face.

Minnijean Brown Trickey, a resident of Canada after a brief return to Little Rock in the 2000s, said she sees the 60th as a pilgrimage, or a search of moral or spiritual significance. "The work is not complete until a beloved community is achieved," she said. She referred obliquely to the current president again, as she had earlier in the week, with a reference to "profound intentional ignorance." She told the audience, "We're not stupid. We know what's going on in this town." She keeps up with the ongoing school divisions — the takeover and all the rest.

Gabriel Wair spoke for his grandmother, Thelma Mothershed Wair. A retired teacher, she said in words he read, "Proliferation of charter schools has given us cause for concern for the future of conventional public education. " She said she didn't want them to become a place for those who fall below standards. It was another applause line.

Central Principal Nancy Rousseau introduced Bill Clinton, noting that most of her students were born after he left the White House (after which she mouthed "sorry" to Clinton).

Clinton reminisced. He was at Central, with Jesse Jackson, at the 20th anniversary, he noted. Then he talked about genetics, as he had at a speech Sunday night at his library, on the opening of an exhibit about Nelson Mandela. The science shows that humankind arose in Africa and that it's a rare person, if any, without a mix of racial genetics. He delved, too, into insects — termites smart enough to air-condition their burrows, the clumps of fire ants that survived Hurricane Harvey, as examples of how their cooperation has meant their survival.

He was going to just give some bromides and sit down, Clinton said. But then other things have happened. He said the Nine could put on their dancing shoes to celebrate the anniversary, but tomorrow, "You have to put on your marching boots and lead us again."

Echoing a theme heard many times over the past few days, Clinton said that many people today who profess to be religious don't remember the parable of the Good Samaritan. Each of the world's religions has a parallel teaching, he said. "What is the matter with us?" he lamented. He referenced Trump's recent campaign rally in Alabama," talking in ways I hadn't heard since the days of George Wallace."

After saying that Wallace had changed in his final years, he said, "We don't want to go back there."

"We have to reject anger and resentment in favor of answers," he said.

***

Hutchinson must have felt very lonely on stage as the commemoration ceremony bore on, with speaker after speaker lambasting the rise of the far right, anti-immigrant fervor and the threat to voting rights and health care that have marked the Republican Party's administration of government.

It was "unimaginable" even as recently as last year, Gates said, that today "we find ourselves again in the struggle for freedom." Cheers and whistles and standing ovations met Gates' demands that people must "defend the right of every American to cast their vote for the candidate of their choice" and "at all cost" defend the affirmative-action program "that launched so many people of color — and women of every color — into positions of authority." The applause thundered when Gates insisted "we must fight for health care as a right ... and to keep the pipeline of opportunity open for the next generation and the next generation after that."

That means standing against homophobia and Islamaphobia and anti-black racism "and, ladies and gentlemen, against white supremacist ideology in all its hateful forms."

There were cries of support when Ernest Green drew a connection between the Little Rock Nine with the nine people slain at prayer by a white supremacist gunman at Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston, S.C., in 2015.

All eyes were on Hutchinson and Little Rock School District Superintendent Michael Poore as Minnijean Brown Trickey made reference to today's problems in the LRSD: "We know what's going on in this town." Wair's more direct targeting of the "proliferation of charter schools" that are draining students from the public schools brought cheering students to their feet.

When Clinton turned to the crowd to say everyone must put on our "marching boots," the standing O, cheers, applause — an expression of clear disdain for a deranged Republican president — must have left Hutchinson, who supports voter ID laws, the health care bill under debate in Congress that would hurt Arkansans, and who put a charter-school-funding Walton family lackey in charge of the state Department of Education, yearning for an exit to a friendlier place.

That's not to say Hutchinson didn't receive a warm welcome. He did. He lauded the Little Rock Nine for their determination and success in changing an "unfair" system. He noted that the Little Rock Central student body of 2018 will look quite different than that of 1958. He didn't give the number — 18 percent white today against 99 percent white in 1958 (only Ernest Green was a senior.) He urged people to work toward a "more civil society."

He noted the bravery of the Nine, who as mere children faced hate, sometimes physical danger and a "defiant governor" in the days before the fight for civil rights became a national movement. "I want to thank the Little Rock Nine for enduring the pain," he said to the Nine, and gave them a deep bow.

After Hutchinson spoke, moderator Dr. Sybil Hampton quoted Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg address: "The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here."

***

After the event, the Nine and President Clinton posed for pictures at the front of the stage, within reaching distance of a mob of people with hands outstretched for a handshake and an autograph. Terrence Roberts crouched on the edge of the stage for an interview with a young woman who asked him if he believed racial equality was in danger of losing ground. "We as a people need to be willing to confront that reality," Roberts said. "Until we do there will be no progress that is significant. ...

"We are going forward very slowly because the forces of opposition keep pushing back. Power will concede nothing unless there is a force of equal magnitude pushing back against it. If you are a part of the ruling class, what incentive would there be to give up that status?"

Four members of the senior class, who got to sit on the stage during the event — all African-American girls, all college-bound — said afterward that they didn't get to meet the Nine, but were excited to meet President Clinton. They found his speech a little wandering, but interesting nevertheless.

Clinton salvaged what might have been an embarrassing comment about how no African-Americans are all black and no whites are all white — something that goes without saying — by shifting to Gates' program on PBS about ancestry, "Finding Your Roots." Part of that ancestry is Neanderthal — about 3 percent of our genome, Clinton said., and "that's the part that's been rearing its ugly head" lately, Clinton said.

The former president said that fighting among one another over our differences ignores our 99.5 percent genetic sameness. Such fighting, Clinton said, has been spurred by the fact that a segment of the population has been "fed a steady diet of resentment" that has torn apart the country, and has created a situation where "another country thinks these people are so nuts ... I'll mess with their heads," referring to Russian interference during the U.S. election season last year.

Clinton also took on anti-immigrant resentment that undocumented people are criminals. "The crime rate among immigrants ... is one-half that of the native born. The rate of small business creation, however, is two times that of the native born."

"Do we really want to go back to what it was like before World War II or the '20s or whatever?" Clinton asked, and the audience said, "No."

The Nine brought a measure of justice to the world, Clinton said. "So I ask you to say to them, 'We love you.' "

***

Love was the word for the 60th anniversary of the Little Rock Nine's escort into Central High — the same division that landed in Normandy on D-Day, as Gates noted. If you don't love your brother, speakers at both Monday morning's commemoration and Sunday night's interfaith service at Robinson Performance Hall said quoting 1 John 4:20, you don't love God.

At Sunday's service, Rev. Raphael Gamaliel Warnock, pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was co-pastor with his father, gave a rousing talk about the persistence of racism in the United States. He noted the role played by the so-called Christian seg academies in the South to keep segregation alive, saying he didn't know what Bible they read but it wasn't the one he read. "Jefferson Beauregard Session," he said, was aiding the militarization of American police with his decision to send soldier gear their way. America has "unfinished business of racism, poverty and militarism," Warnock said.

Warnock talked about America's indifference to drugs when they were seen a black problem; now, he said, white leadership is vowing to do something about the epidemic of "opioids" — even giving the problem a new name.

As it did on Monday, Kaepernick's name came up: Warnock wondered aloud how it is that the president of the United States can criticize the football players and others who have been taking a knee during the anthem to protest police brutality against black citizens but say there were "good people" among the Nazis in Charlottesville.

And imagine, Warnock said, if the tiki-torch bearers in Charlottesville, Va., had been black instead of white. Would they have been allowed to disperse without police presence — or would they have been met with tanks?

'Too far to turn back now'

[dullweapons-a]

So i did talk about the change from Ayrin to Ray over HERE but i realize ray’s development doesn’t just stop there . . ? in my long google doc that’s a wip about his events through all the games , he did a lot & a lot changed with him ( built hyrule castle , he learned his sexuality during the hyrulean civil war , he tried to take the triforce when the sacred realm was discovered to wish for his mortality & was a bi pirate for a bit ! ) .

but i realized when he tried to save himself -- by exploding himself & the gate of time , he suffered : he lost his eye . so . . . he should have MORE damage the second time he exploded -- trying to save the knights in the citadel during the calamity . 

THE EVENTS & IT’S AFTERMATH ;    ( it’s a long one i’m blue now )

THE EVENTS ;

with the king of hyrule dead, zelda , link & the champions trying to fight the beast -- the knights of hyrule were without a leader. stepping up ray named himself the next in command. most of the knights were too frazzled to fight or they understood ray was probably the best person . he decided that the Citadel was their best shot at this because of placement . there he would make his last stand against the hordes of guardians in Akkala along with the rest of the army . if they could not stop the calamity at least he could buy the people some time to escape before escaping themselves .

one by one he watched his fellow men in arms fall , their blood staining the ground . the life gone from their eyes . their soul . . . now given to protect the land they loved . hot tears burned his face as he hit back the blasts from guardians –– screaming back at the men to run & bar the doors to the citadel . so long as he stood he would not let the mechanical beasts past this bridge !  despite his best efforts the demon tired after days of battling them , let his guard down. multiple guardians surrounded him , all attacking at once . 

he couldn’t run . he couldn’t fight them . ray dropped his sword & built up his magic as much as he could . 

–– he exploded .

himself, some of the guardians, and the bridge to the citadel were broken . he hoped that it would buy the knights inside enough time to save themselves . 

that was one hundred years ago. fifty of those he spent in a deep slumber, revered back to his weapon form : a rusty battle axe that laid somewhere by the ruins of what he tried so hard to protect . some bokoblin used him as a weapon to terrorize poor survivors of the war . . . soon enough he awoke , frazzled & confused -- still believing to be in the middle of the calamity . not knowing so long had passed he rushed inside the citadel ; only to find it silent . 

he ran through the dusty halls looking for someone -- anyone . screaming out all the names he remembered & begging for answers back . soon enough he found them , but not how he wanted to . holding onto one another in frozen fear forever as skeletons . some clinging to letters addressed to their families . others recording their last moments hoping someone would find them . 

this was there final resting place & ray couldn’t even join them . 

he stayed for weeks, mourning the loss of his brothers in arms . soon he realized his own issues . his right side of his body wasn’t working like it used to . not wanting to think about it he recalled what he had told dawn -- to wait for him in hateno if this calamity did happen as princess zelda feared . the journey to her was long & tiring . but , after weeks of travel he made it back to her -- only to get an earful for making her wait as well as a tearful reunion .

THE AFTERMATH ; 

ray didn’t realize at first but now half his face was missing . well ray likes to round down & say 1 / 4 -- mostly to tease dawn

his right hand can’t grip a sword nor anything tightly enough . he’ll drop anything with weight if he tries to hold it ( even a cup ) . it enrages him to no end but he simply started training with his left as if it wasn’t a serious issue .

he spaces out every now & then , seemingly lost in thought . dawn will ask where he goes but he doesn’t notice he even does it . 

walks with a touch of a limp . he’s not in a lot of pain but it’s a low constant one in his right hip & knee . he never can get conformable , even in the softest of beds . 

slight memory issues !  sometimes it’s little things like forgetting where he placed something or the date -- but every now & then he will think its a different era completely & even speak a different version of hylian .  ( this is a less ‘ i exploded ‘ thing & more of a C- PTSD thing )

seems more chill at times ..........but really he’s in a state of shock . emotionally paralyzed by shame, guilt & self-blame . yeah ray had gone to war but never did he cause the death of the whole army . 

even after exploding ray is still the same mother fucker who will go hunt lynels for fun - hell he thinks its more of a challenge now that he can’t use his right hand . ray is VERY good at hiding his feelings anyway . he holds a poker face 24 / 7 anyway . dawn ( & lovers ) are really the only ones to see past this . 

nightmares worsen . the man barley sleeps now unless dawn forces him too . before he would awake with a quick heart rate & a jolt -- now he wakes up screaming in a cold sweat .

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR DAWN ; 

dawn is so happy to finally see ray again -- but seeing him as a shell of his former self was heartbreaking . she is always with him , afraid he’ll fall apart when she’s not looking ( in the fifty years between their reunion & the start of botw ray never worsens but she still fears it ) . dawn kinda started to baby him , much to ray’s dismay . 

softly she tries to ask him to seek repairs . fixing his weapon form will heal him just as it’s done for her . as always ray refuses -- taking this as penance for his sins  ( he even says this pain makes him feel more human ) but since he refuses repairs dawn has been researching a way to transfer ray into a new weapon completely . so far all she knows is that it will require a new master to be banded too . knowing ray killed their former master , she doesn’t think this will go over well .

AND FOR CURRENT BOTW THREADS ?

everything stays the same since personality wise nothing changed too much ( i mean he’s a bit chiller but that poker face is still there baby ) . he just might be a touch weaker & walk with a bit of a limp !

[dullweapons-a]

happy sinday ; ray has nipple piercings 

that’s it that’s the post .

[dullweapons-a]

writing all that about ray at 4am made me realize — oh god BOTW zelda is probably ray’s least favorite princess . probably actually has some hate & resentment towards her for failing to awaken her sealing powers sooner .

ray is normally just a guard or a knight within the army so he never saw how hard she was trying nor how much of a burden she felt like for not being able to awaken her powers . so he assumed that his was another more studious princess with her nose in a book.

if he were to see zelda again after the events of botw , he would have to hold himself back from blowing up at her . most likely would smack her , screaming — because he can’t cope with the trauma himself . still would help rebuild hyrule back to its former glory but would refuse to be in the army again; at least for a good few decades .

basically rip any post-botw rps with zelda I’m sorry my son agrees with with the king of hyrule that you should have tried harder 😔tho it would be fun cause i feel like many people ( myself included ) pat zelda on the head & say it’s okay because she did battle of ganon for 100 years & did save a good number of people . so to have ray do the extract opposite sounds fun for angst -

[dullweapons-a]

@somnium-led​            /           Before - bed routine for Ray, something they could never forgive for Dawn, & concept of home / family for both :')

CHARACTER HEADCANONS      /       ACCEPTING !

RAY & before bed routine ; 

before i go into it -- ray follows the biphasic sleep cycle. meaning he sleeps for 4 hours, than takes a half hour nap if he feels tired during the day. but in times of war or high stress he follows the uberman sleep cycle . 4~6 half hour minute naps every four hours . sometimes less .

he hates sleeping.  sometimes he will go without it for a few days until he can’t anymore ( or dawn body slams him into a bed ) . when he knows he’s going to sleep he mentally tries to prepare himself for the incoming nightmares . ray will sometimes pray -- but not to hylia . he prays to annabell , the main focus of his nightmares to allow him to have a peaceful dream . 

finally when he’s ready , he’ll get into his ‘ pajamas ‘ ; which are really just his under shirt & underwear ( unless he’s sleeping next to someone , than he’ll keep his pants on ) . ray will just stare up at the ceiling until sleep takes him . if he’s having a terrible time getting to sleep he’ll take some of dawn’s whiskey to get himself to relax enough .

DAWN & something they could never forgive ;

she can’t forgive ray for breaking the gate of time . often she will think of the possibilities that could have come out of it . if she went back with her son would she be a different woman ? would her son be alive ? would she let herself make the same mistakes ? ray tells her over & over that it would have been a mistake if she had gone back . the goddess of time would have sent them in different times . or that they both would have ended up dying . 

if given the chance to go back in time , she would go to the war her son went to . even if it would kill her , she needs to know that he was happy at least .

another is the fact she can’t forgive herself & lamatar for turning her & ayrin into demons . she believes they should have tried harder to help ayrin be a good child instead of forcing him to become a slave to lamatar to ‘control the demon side ‘ . the boy had a good heart , he could learn how to cope with the demonic nature . maybe he could have taken up a sport or a hobby .

ofc we know that ray is actually ayrin -- but he was too scared to tell his mother what happened to him . he told himself that he would tell her the truth when he was ready ; but the lie has gone on too long . so ayrin stays dead in the past to the both of them . 

BOTH & concept of home / family ;

home . . . isn’t really a place for these two , not anymore anyway . they have to travel away when people being to realize that they haven’t aged pasted their mid 30s. ( wow dawn you look great for 58 ! ) so for them , home is each other . they are a little family . they follow the correct version of the quote, blood is thicker than water -- which is blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb . so they enjoy the concept of found family . whoever makes you smile is your family . 

but for dawn . . . she dreamed of having a family full of children . she fought with lamatar a lot because right after ayrin was born she wanted to pop out three more kids . literally the only reason she dated men was because she wanted blood-related children . so this found family feels like it’s missing a piece . dawn dreamed about becoming a cool mama knight with a baby in one hand and a sword in the other

for ray ? he’s thought about children & getting married but the thoughts are always followed by: you will out live them all . you will watch your partner die from old age or sickness . bury them in a couples grave that the other side will forever be empty . you will have to turn your child into a demon . you will become your father that you followed into war out of love & killed out of hate . do you really want to do that ? 

[dullweapons-a]

i have decided ray was the guy who took the lead when the king fell during the calamity & ordered the knights to Akkala Citadel to make their last stand / draw attention away from surviving citizens . he thought it was bottled necked well enough that they could pick off the guardians group by group or wait it out because it’s unassailable............but that didn’t happen .

ray refuses to go to Akkala to face his failure .

[dullweapons-a]

wait . . . you don’t remember what she looks like ?

                                                                              just make something up !

[dullweapons-a]

THE SOUND OF GEARS ;

as a child Ray went thought the Gate of Time to be with his father again & as an adult he went back to that very same gate to try to stop himself from making that grave mistake . failing to save himself he made sure his mother could not follow by trying to destroy the gate ( failing , but he forced it back into dormancy ) .

but the sounds of the gears turning still haunt him . at first he didn’t understand why he became to twitchy when he was around clocks . he chalked it up to anxiety around time , knowing he had forever but those he loved did not ; how cared for every second must be . but when he saw the dates or the passing of the moon that fear did not show itself. nor did sundials cause the same sweat on his brow .

it was only the grinding of the gears inside . that low ticking sound that was never ending . it brought everything up to the surface . the pain of his father dying by his own hand -- his mother sobbing -- losing his innocence to war & killing the woman he fell in love with . it all came rushing back with the low mechanical sounds of a clock . . . 

ray refuses to have any sort of clocks inside his home & asks his friends to remove theirs when he comes over .

[dullweapons-a]

i like to think that both dawn and ray have come to view weapons more like people -  often referring to blades with a pronouns or even giving them names . so in other words :

Ray: ( holding a woodcutting axe ) hm . . . he looks like a lalu to me. Dawn: really ? i was thinking more of an...aolin  ! :D

[dullweapons-a]

this is what i am // this is what i enjoy -- JOBS 

both Dawn and Ray do take up jobs , even demons need to have a roof over their heads and food on the table . even so , they both take different approaches towards getting jobs !

its not that Ray refuses to learn a new trade , he just believes he can’t get a new one . he’s a weapon and might as well fulfill his duty as one . 

during times of war he will enlist as a solider . always going up the ranks very quickly -- easily becoming a general or captain .  when not in war he’s still a guard , a knight , a mercenary . if the job needs a blade he is there to give himself to it . he has even been a royal knight once or twice 

every now and then he will assist dawn with hers . . . he did enjoy being a farmer . ( most animals don’t like him but he really likes cow . . . think’s they’re cute . )

For Dawn , job aren’t work . they are hobbies that she just so happens to get paid for ! She has been a blacksmith , a carpenter , even a farmer just for fun . very relaxed in whatever she does . even if she takes up a job that doesn’t make too much money its still very fun for her -- she loves to meet new people and learn new things ! 

there has been times where she will go with ray to war -- as his weapon . she worries for him constantly going back to what causes him so much pain and trauma , she wants to be able to help him .