#I never have patience to draw fancy patterns sorry

[mimiplaysgames]

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 10)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 6,286

Summary: It’s time to save Ven from Castle Oblivion

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A/N: Woooooow I really didn’t want to take this long to finish this, but you guys know what my mental health is like sometimes. I actually finished two other WIPs before this one, but I’m still not happy with those so I wrote this one out. Thank you all so much for your patience. I hope this was worth the wait. >.<

~*~*~*~*~

Oblivion, pt. 2

Ven, you let Aqua take you home.

No way. I wanna go with you guys.

You can’t. We have a dangerous task ahead of us. I don’t want you to get hurt.

--And what is this dangerous task, Terra? It doesn’t sound like what the Master told you to do. 

It might be a different route, but I’m fighting the darkness.

--I’m not so sure. I’ve been to the same worlds as you and I’ve seen what you’ve done. You shouldn’t put yourself so close to the darkness.

Listen to yourself, Aqua. Terra would never--

You mean you’ve been spying on me? Is that what he said to do? The Master’s orders?

--He was only…

I get it.

Terra!

Just stay put! I’m on my own now, all right?

--Terra, please! Listen! The Master has no reason to distrust you, really! He was just worried. 

You’re awful, Aqua.

~*~*~*~*~

She’s awful and she knows it. 

Terra stands there, his fingers curled into fists, hurt and bewilderment in the strict knit of his brows. Aqua used to tell herself that everything she’s done was for the greater good. Better for everyone, better for Terra, even if he didn’t know it. She knew he felt betrayed. Felt. Since there’s no time in the Realm of Darkness, Aqua hasn’t been able to count how many years it took her to realize that she’s actually betrayed her best friend, how long it took to tell the difference between the two.

“I was only trying to help,” he says.

This isn’t how it goes. Aqua swallows. “I know that-”

“Then why?”

This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. “The Master was only looking out for you.” That’s true, at least. He’s always had good intentions. 

Terra’s lip snarls. “Was he?”

She doesn’t know anymore. “I was confused and unsure, Terra. I’m so sorry.”

Why is she apologizing now when she already has? When Terra forgave her? 

But did he? That happened in a dream.

Terra scoffs as he looks away, a false smile pulled on his face before he shakes his head. “Sorry. You accused me of leading myself to the darkness. Is that what you really think of me? An idiot?”

“No…” Did she?

“You’ve blamed me for everything.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” she whispers. Has she really? 

“You’re awful, Aqua,” Terra says. 

She knows it. Terra said it. And her heart wretches inside, vomiting an acid that burns her esophagus and is bubbling up, making her head light. 

“A curious memory,” a voice says. Xemnas stands behind her. He hums, his voice so deep it almost sounds like a growl. 

Terra is gone. 

She realizes where she is. Castle Oblivion. An image of Radiant Garden. “It’s false,” she spits.

“Are you certain?” He smiles and it comes slowly, like he takes care in easing into it. “The basic act of remembering is a basic act of storytelling. We take artistic license and smear it each and every time we take a nostalgic trip. You change the details depending on who you decide to recite it to.” He waves his arms open, dramatically drawing out his words. “Depending on your mood, or your motivation, or the meaning you want to take out of it, you alter things to fit a narrative in your head. Our memories are only ever reliable as the most recent story we told ourselves. Are you confident you’d be able to tell the difference?”

“I…” 

“Does this playact fit the story you want to tell about yourself?”

She blinks, trying to recall the exact words and in the order of how it happened. Ven was there that day. She’s sure of that. 

Right?

Xemnas sighs, eyeing the scene around him, bringing his gloved fingers to his lips. “I don’t have memory of this. But it was an interesting tale.”

Aqua inhales sharply and shakes herself out of her own damn stupor. “It doesn’t matter what you think.”

“I think whatever you saw is a reflection of yourself.” He strokes his hair out of his face. “Therefore, it’s true in its own way.”

“It isn’t!” She can’t believe so. She can’t think about it right now. Despite how much her wrist hurts, she charges at him, the Defender high and energized, loyal and at the ready.

He accepts her challenge with open arms and two swords of hot, red energy, barely floating out of her reach as though to coax her to follow him around. And she follows, because she’s an idiot. Master Aqua doesn’t know what she’s doing even when she thinks she does. Even when she believes in the words she says, or believes that attacking Xemnas is the right thing to do, because he is on Xehanort’s side and there’s no reason to stop flailing at him with the heaviest ice magic she can muster.

Aqua thrusts the Keyblade at him. Stupid move. She knows that. Then why is she making so many mistakes?

Xemnas catches it in between his blades, slicing them away to throw her off balance. She retaliates with a mutter under her breath. Waves of ice shards spew out in circles, stabbing in random patterns. Let’s see him block these.

He does a decent job dodging, but he’s distracted. That’s all she needs.

Aqua tracks the tip of the Defender against the floor. An ice path spits forward. She skates on them, picking up speed to ram directly into him, throwing him against the wall with a sickening thud. 

“How’s that for someone less than half your size?”

She inhales deeply, and with it comes magic and the excitement of dance. The anticipation to move and dazzle. She twirls and her Keyblade ignites, gathering energy with each turn she takes in place before it finally combusts in brilliant colors and spackles of white. 

Cutting through the beauty is a mess of black smog. “It was radiant,” Xemnas growls, pushing through with that sickness he calls a Nobody’s power, something that drains energy as if it were a black hole. 

The void sharpens up with electricity and collapses into millions of shards of its own light, fueled by a massive compression as if warping the air around it. Aqua backs off. It’s not a space she should breathe into. The false-light shoots outward with Xemnas’s command, stabbing in all directions. They’re hard to block. Hard to dodge. Hard to withstand a direct hit and Aqua takes them in the legs, the torso, the shoulders. Some stab her in the face. 

By the end, she’s the one splayed out on the floor, the Defender dissipating.

“A waste of my power when we could have had an amicable conversation,” Xemnas says, brushing off his sleeves. 

Aqua is sore all over. Her legs don’t want to pick her up.

Ragged breathing (hers) pounds in her ears, interrupted only by the echoes of his steps, tick-tacking up to her slowly, like he’s pretty sure she won’t get up. 

Aqua grunts while pressing her palms against the floor. Her good wrist shakes. Her bad one just won’t. 

“Back off!” 

Sora’s voice.

He’s coming for Xemnas from above, gripping his Keyblade with both hands high above his head as though he’s about to bat a ball and grovel it into the ground. When he makes contact with Xemnas’s back, slicing across, a white electric spark crackles outward, tossing him at a safe distance away from her body. 

All Aqua sees when Sora lands are the toes of giant yellow shoes. A warmth settles on her, ticklish and relaxing until it suddenly vanishes too soon. He really needs to work on his Cure spells. 

“Think you can handle him?” he asks her, already prepared to fight more. Xemnas picks himself up, brushing his hand on his face. “We can do it together.”

“It’s a waste of time,” she says. Xemnas and false memories and stupid speeches all at once. How many rooms did Sora go through to get here? How much has he lost already?

She sets her eyes on the exit: a gate that would have led to the alleys in the real Radiant Garden. They should go. Should they stay and finish this off?

(I can’t let Sora fight alone. I need to protect Ven from threats. Why am I not spending my time finding him?)

She ends it with, I have to shut myself up. “Can you distract him for me?”

“Sure?”

“Follow me as soon as I call for you,” she commands, marching straight to the door without a glance at the noise combusting behind her. Sora’s yelling with passion and excitement. Xemnas grunts with annoyance. Explosions rumble in between. 

She grips the handle and risks looking back. Sora is a good fighter, all improv and no hesitance, like a rocket with no homing device. He dodges attacks while tossing up mockery and teases (he might as well drop the Keyblade and stick his tongue out while gesturing with his fingers). Xemnas shows off fanciful and destructive magic that is both inefficient in aim and wide-reaching. So much of his hits are collateral damage.

Sora gets knocked onto his knees. She’s about to run to him when he bounces back, blocking another direct hit and redirecting it. 

He’s okay.

She should trust him.

“Focus, Aqua,” she chides herself. Regardless of how much fun Sora is having, he’s depending on her to move forward for everyone’s sakes. She thinks about nothing, she thinks about Ven. Sleeping in that throne all by himself. When she wakes him up, he’s going to pout and say, Did you forget about me or something? Aqua, you’re so mean.

You’re awful, Aqua.

She needs an empty, quiet room. The door responds, a little aha! moment that churns in her belly. She turns the knob. “Sora!”

He hesitates.

“Sora, come here!”

This time he follows, hustling to her side. “But-” He points at Xemnas charging at them, so fast that he’s floating, when she grabs Sora by the elbow and pulls him through with her. Like a vacuum, they get sucked inside. All remnants of destruction, crumbling brick, smokey air, and aftershocks are erased with the click of the doorknob into its latch. 

They land face first on cold tile in a simple white room.

Sora sighs, a little laugh escaping through his breath. She gets it, she’s relieved too.

“I will never look at Xemnas’s face the same way again,” he says, grunting when he hops onto his feet, shoulders rolling and neck stretching like he’s done a good workout. 

Aqua’s wrist still protests when she leans on it to get on her knees. She doesn’t let Sora see - she briskly stands like she’s still got pep to her step, her good hand gently clasped over it as she begins a Curaga to start the healing process. It prickles and kneads, sharp bubbles popping on the skin’s surface like slapping rubber to the skin.

“How did you find me?” Aqua asks. She has to. The castle is designed to disorient. It takes a tremendous bond to keep anyone inside together, and she figures Sora would rather stay close to Riku and the others. 

Sora blinks. “I’m not exactly sure. We got separated, picked off one by one. I took doors that my gut told me to choose.” He touches his chest and chuckles. “Or rather, my heart. I thought it’d lead me back to them.” Then he snorts. “You’re a lot easier to find than Riku, that’s for sure.”

That doesn’t make any much sense, and all Aqua says is, “You’re a good person, Sora.”

He lets his smile fall and cocks his head, a quiet Huh? slipping out. It takes him moments to respond. “You don’t think you are?”

“I don’t…” She’s about to say, deserve my Master’s rank. Something’s wrong. Her Light magic should have only taken a couple of seconds to heal, but it keeps going. When it’s finally complete, her wrist is still sore. Aqua presses her fingers to her temples to massage a headache that isn’t there. “I don’t sound like myself. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” His stretched smile shines again. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal.” 

“Normal?”

“I mean,” he shrugs a playful shoulder, “maybe a little weird, sure. If that’s what you want to hear.”

She scoffs, the tiniest grin wrestling its way onto her lips. “Maybe I am.”

“Did you know I once called Riku ‘stupid?’”

It’s her turn to snort. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d let you say that to him.”

“You’d be surprised.”

The snorting turns into a small giggle, something warm and toasty as though this room has never been cold.

“See?” Sora says. “A little laughter says a lot about you.”

Aqua massages her wrist one last time. “In what way?”

“That you survive what you went through,” he says slowly, “and still laugh? You’re stronger than you think.”

Aqua swallows. She’s once thought the same thing, but she’s tired now. So tired of being strong. 

As if taking her silence as cue, Sora glances around the empty room, that one simple door waiting for them. “So, what now?” 

“We get Ven.”

He’s super excited and it’s very endearing, like he’s about to witness an inexplicable magic trick. “How are we going to do that?”

Aqua leads the way. Ven. Finally. “Again, I will be the one to unlock the door.” 

He keeps to her heels like a puppy. Right now, on the other side of that door, she figures there’s nothing, a canvas in need of paint. When the castle takes a peek inside a person’s head to mirror what they want to see, it takes so much more. 

“Do you just… picture Ven in your head and voila?” Sora asks.

“Kind of.”

“And what else? What’s the secret?”

Aqua hums, fingers twiddling with each other. “A lot of focus and dedication.”

“That can’t be it. There’s gotta be more.”

“And quiet.”

“Oh, sorry.”

It’s Ven’s movement. His voice. A tight hug given or a toothy grin, from any moment of her choosing, so long as the memory is striking. Xemnas.

Why is she thinking of Xemnas?

When he said that memories are only as real as the stories we tell ourselves. Is that the same for memories so powerful, there’s no way they can be anything but untrue? 

He’s wrong. A memory as warm as the laughter she shared with Sora would do the spell right. 

Just before she replays the scene in her head, tears slowly prick at her eyes. Even after spending years knowing that she’s going to lose this memory, that she’s literally giving it up as an offering, she’s still trembling. Why is she so scared? 

She has other memories, she tells herself, just as precious to make up for it.

~*~*~*~*~

Ven wasn’t able to speak much when he first woke up. He’d learn a few words here and there, and would repeat them. For a child without a grip on language, he was so eager to let everyone know everything he felt.

And he really liked stars. 

That night, a thunderstorm blotted the sky, and there weren’t any to see.

Good thing Ven wasn’t afraid of thunder, and good thing Aqua and Terra stashed a tent for nights like these. Draped over Ven’s bed, Terra brought in custom-made wooden lampshades, where he carved out shapes of stars. Third edition - the first time he tried, on cardboard, was a messy affair and some stars turned out to be globs. Stars dotted the entire tent, spreading all over the bed and loitering their bodies. In Ven’s bedroom, they sat in the very sky. 

“Ven won’t let me read to him anymore,” Aqua said, watching Ven snatch the picture book she brought him. 

“You’re welcome,” said Ven. 

Terra chuckled. “He won’t let me either. He just wants to know how it ends.”

“It’s a happy one, I promise,” was Aqua’s desperate plea. He used to be so cute with how attached he was to her and how much he nudged to hear her speak. She even read recipes to him - so long as she spoke, Ven was amused. 

“You’re welcome,” said Ven.

Terra propped himself on his elbow, opening a bag of nuts. “Hungry, Ven?”

Ven, forgetting there was a book on his lap, splayed out his palm. He gestured with a kingly expectation that he’d be graced.

“You need to say, ‘Please,’” Terra said.

“You’re welcome.”

Terra gave Aqua a knowing smirk, a tall boy in a lanky body who told her that morning that he needed to grow muscles. His new Keyblade was too heavy for him, his swings too sluggish. He was worried about his future when she thought he shouldn’t be. He gathered a few peanuts with his fingers and gently placed them in Ven’s hand, watchful for spills. “Now you say, ‘Thank you.’”

“You’re welcome.” Ven snarfed them all down, cheeks bubbling full before he swallowed them in one gulp. He licked his fingers and pointed to a pitcher for water (You’re welcome). Aqua thought she’d never forget it. 

~*~*~*~*~

“Are you okay?”

“Hm?”

Aqua blinks at a fussing Sora, who has his hand on her shoulder with this terrible concern knotting his face. “Are you hurt?”

“No, why are you asking?”

Sora lets her go, his hand still hovering close. “You seemed really sad.”

Tears are indeed flowing down her face and Aqua wipes them off. Why they’re there, she doesn’t understand. There’s nothing to be upset about. Ven is on the other side of this door. That thought alone - Ven! - burns a hearth through her entire body, like snuggling in a blanket by a fireplace. She’s done it. She’s done something truly outstanding. 

“I’m not,” she laughs. “Everything’s going to be okay. He’s on the other side.”

He’s on the other side. Aqua twists the knob as fast as possible, pushing her way into another white room. With a throne. And a boy with blond hair, tucked into a seat two times his size in peaceful sleep.

“Ven,” she gasps. There’s nothing else in her mind. Just Ven.

“Roxas?” 

It’s like being dunked in cold water. What came out of Sora’s mouth, she has no damn idea. “Ventus,” she corrects.

But Sora has a strange look on his face, his hand clutching his stomach. “Huh?”

She doesn’t listen. She runs up to the throne, reaching out to shake him. “Ven?”

Stars, he looks the same in her memories, maybe less pudgy in the cheeks. But the more she studies him, the more a pit in her stomach grows. He looks peaceful from far away, but this close, he looks like he’ll never wake up despite being warm to her touch.

“Is it because I took so long?” she asks softly, as if speaking too loud would startle him out of a nightmare. “Is it because there was something I was missing? Should I have found your heart first?” She takes his face in both of her hands and brings his forehead to hers. This time, she really does want to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

Sora walks carefully up to the throne, hesitant to disturb the moment. “Aqua, I don’t feel so good.”

She finds him staring at Ven, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Sora shakes his head. “It’s creepy.”

“Excuse me?”

A giant bang rattles the door behind them nearly out of its hinges. 

“What was that?” Sora whips around. It bangs again, dust spitting out. Spiney tendrils seep through the cracks. “Xemnas!”

Her first instinct is to stay. To fight anything that would threaten Ven’s body. Dammit. There’s still everyone else they have to find. And what if his body gets hurt in the chaos?

“We don’t have the time.” She swings Ven’s arms over her shoulders, hooking his legs over her arms as she takes on his entire weight onto her back. He’s heavy for someone who hasn’t eaten in years. 

“Do you need help?”

“If he breaks through-”

“Got it.”

This room is a dead end - the only way in is the only way out. The real treasure room of the castle, its finality a way of saying, You’ve made it! 

And so, Aqua has to make a new door. 

She struggles to pull out the Defender with Ven on her back, having to lift one shoulder up to keep him level so he doesn’t slack over.

The door bangs again, nearly rupturing apart.

With Sora on guard, Aqua glares at the wall as though to burn a hole through it. It should be less work than transforming the entire castle. The Master’s Defender, once called its Keeper, is a specific inheritance meant for the wielder to keep secrets - even ones he’s never heard of. The castle will deceive. The castle will do what it needs to protect. Aqua asks it to protect them with secrets it will never tell her. 

Thrusting the Keyblade forward, the outline of a keyhole sparkles on the surface of the wall, stretching into the shape of a door like all the others. Aqua makes sure to give this one a particular lock. 

“Sora!” 

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He leans into her as if to keep Ven upright for her. “Just open the door for me. Make sure to lock it firmly behind us.”

He does so, throwing it wide to a tiny room, stretched long but narrow like a walk-in closet. Aqua hustles inside.

The door bangs one more time. It tears near the handle. Xemnas heaves when he pushes it open as though it’s the heaviest in the castle. He’s angry, annoyed, the last in the race, an also-ran. He’s so composed, so poised though, like a puppet that wears a mask to pretend to be human. 

And Sora has their sanctuary propped open, gaping.

“What’s wrong?”

Sora shakes himself out of a stupor, shutting her new door. It wipes Xemnas out of existence, like hand brushing the surface of a table, throwing all the mess onto the floor for a new start. Sora then watches it latch, as though expecting it to rattle.

“Xemnas won’t get through,” she says. “I made sure of it.”

He scratches his head, that brand of Sora-smile brightening up like normal. “Where are we?”

“In a safe room.” She bends her knees and gently lets her grip of Ven’s wrists go, letting him hit the wall behind her. It’s so narrow that she’s unable to stretch her legs when she sits besides him. “It’s only meant for our friends.”

“They’ll find us?” 

“As easily as they want to, yes.” When she watches Sora slump onto the wall opposite hers, his feet resting up against the other side, she shivers. He’s still reading the walls as if they have words painted on them even though they’re blank. “Are you sure you’re okay?” A worse thought creeps up to her. “Did you see things?”

Sora glances at Ven. “I did actually.” He chuckles. “Like that night when Destiny Islands went under. Kairi yelled at me when I missed dinner like it was just another night. She always had something to nag about.” He blinks. “Or was that my mom?”

“I should apologize,” Aqua says, lowering her gaze. “This should have only been my burden to bear.”

“No regrets here.” Something passes over his face like a cloud hovering over, and Sora presses a fist to his temple as if to think really hard. “Stained glass windows.” 

“Huh?”

“Mountains.” Sora scrunches his eyes as if shampoo had gotten in them. “This place used to be really pretty, right?”

Aqua drops her jaw. She stares at him really hard, but he breathes deeply, lost in his thoughts like a mannequin coming alive. Memory of this place should only live inside a handful of people. He isn’t supposed to know, and the castle couldn’t have shown him any of that.

“How-”

Their door unlocks itself, swinging wide open. Kairi limps inside with heavy breath. Riku is slumped over her shoulders, unconscious.

Sora acts like he’s just woken up. “What happened?” He gets up, taking Riku’s other arm so they could set him down. Riku doesn’t come across as a particularly large boy but he takes up so much space. Aqua has to drag Ven to make room before shifting onto her knees to read Riku’s energy - he’s alive. 

Kairi sniffs. “He took a direct hit for me.”

Sora pats her shoulder. “He would’ve done the same for me.” Though he’s not so confident.

“Don’t worry. He’s going to be okay,” Aqua says.

Kairi grimaces somewhere in the middle of being comforted and not quite believing that. Aqua starts a Cure spell. It takes its time, but whether that’s her failure or because Riku is in terrible condition, she can’t tell. 

“Is that…?”

Aqua spares a glance at Kairi, who has her fingers wiping her tear-stained face. “It is. Ven.”

“Is he not okay?”

Aqua swallows.

The door rattles like there’s a desperate person begging for someone to open it. Lea and Donald bicker when they come in (something about Getting pistol heavy and Donald responds with a Bah!), Goofy trailing behind them. They pile on top of everyone else, Lea opting to stay standing because there’s simply no room for him. 

He takes one look at Riku. And he smirks. “Some people always have to play the dark and brooding hero.” That don’t-give-too-much-of-a-care touch to his voice loses its power, however, the moment he sets his eyes on Ven. 

Aqua never expected they knew each other. 

“Roxas?” He hurries over, hopping over legs and feet like stepping rocks. 

Why do they bring that name up?! Aqua keeps an eye over her shoulder. Something about their reactions to Ven doesn’t sit right with her. Something about Lea’s expression - the wide eyes, the dropped hands, the gasp, the deadset desperation - marks it as more intense than Sora’s, who felt nauseous. 

Lea settles on his knees to take a close look. Aqua couldn’t have misinterpreted it: disappointment flashes across his face, and Lea stops a sharp inhale before letting it out slowly. “No, you’re Ventus.” When they lock eyes, he gets serious. “Listen, there’s other Organization members in the castle.” It makes every conscious person in the room pay attention. 

“Ha, let them try and fit in here!” Donald says, sticking his beak up to the state of the room. Goofy has a long shoe stuck on top of one of his webbed feet, giving Donald a scowl to last two entire nights.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Sora says with a smirk. Playful or careful, it’s hard to differentiate with him. He winks at Aqua. “He’s only that way because of the King.”

The King and Terra lost in the Realm of Darkness. And Aqua’s stuck in a closet with an angry bird and beat up, tired, anxious fighters.

“Do we go back out?” Kairi meekly asks. “Downstairs instead of up?”

Aqua didn’t have to climb stairs to get here. Damn it. 

“We’ll make sure to stay together this time-” she starts to say when Lea interrupts her with a sharp No.

He’s holding his head like he’s got a headache. He fidgets, lost in thought as his eyes search this room though he’s not going to find much help here. There’s someone he obviously doesn’t want to cut across. “We’ll take a shortcut.”

“Excuse me?”

He stands up, leaning over Sora to splay his palm against the wall. “Is Xemnas here?”

Aqua purses her lips before she answers. “Yes.”

“If he’s this close, he’ll find out I used it. He always does.” From his hand slithers out tendrils of black smoke. From that grows a doorway. From the doorway, a glow that opens up a portal to somewhere else. “Straight to the exit.”

Aqua shakes her head. “I’m not going in there.”

“That’s dangerous!” Donald barks. Aqua is grateful she’s not the only one opposed.

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to use a Dark Corridor,” Goofy says. He is game and he is cheerful, letting Sora help him sling Riku over one of his shoulders. “Do ya think we’ll need a night-light?” 

Sora snickers in response. “It’s only a little cold. Nothing much to worry about.”

Aqua doesn’t know where to start. They’re all wrong. “But-”

Lea takes Ven onto his back. He has a much easier time, as though carrying a backpack, bobbing Ven’s weight to make sure he has a better grip. “Let’s go.” Then he glances at Aqua with a stern, almost distasteful look that tells her he means business. No jokes. No sarcasm. In words, Get your shit together.

He leads the way, Ven poofing out of existence the moment he passes through, asleep, oblivious of the world, unsafe and safe all at once. And Aqua stood there staring. Goofy follows next, his large steps striding so widely that Riku’s arms sway side to side. 

Aqua can feel that familiar chill, and it churns her stomach to think that it’s so close to her again. She doesn’t move. Even when Donald struts his way in, throwing a Humph! for good measure.

Even when Sora coaxes Kairi into it, telling her that it’s really no big deal. Just follow the others. Even when he smiles at Aqua and tells her, Come on. It’s a short trip.

She only nudges forward the moment Sora takes one last visible step into the void. She’s alone. She gasps. Summons her armor before dashing after them, metal footsteps clunking through a long, dark tunnel. It slithers around her, but she keeps her eyes ahead, following Sora and Kairi as they run straight to the other side. Don’t look at anything else. Don’t even think about it. Just follow them.

It is indeed a short run to the other side, a round light swallowing her when she crosses the border, leading her back outside to the barren wasteland that is Castle Oblivion’s patio. Aqua’s heart hammers away like she’s drunk too many stimulants for years. Like she’s too old for this. She’s gasping into her helmet, but she won’t dispel it just yet. Not when the others are here. 

Lea doesn’t stop. He marches straight to the gummi ship, its hangar left open for them, followed by a diligent Goofy. They have a room inside where they could tend to Riku’s wounds and make sure Ven is comfortable. 

Sora looks back. “You’ll fly on your own right?”

Aqua weakly nods and the others board the ship. 

Lea made it so easy to exit. Traversing the castle seemed like a nightmare that kept you asleep just to see it end. The gummi ship starts its engines, revving up and blowing air that kicks the dirt up. Aqua listens for Lea’s corridor to dissipate. Maybe all this noise is playing tricks with her mind because that bubbling sound that should signal its disappearance is going on for too long. Aqua turns around. Lea’s is gone alright, but another takes shape at the front entrance.

Vanitas bursts out of it to witness the gummi ship take off. 

Xemnas casually steps out, too. “Stand your ground,” he orders.

Vanitas does obey, though he’s trembling with so much fever that it looks like he’s fighting off a spell that kept him frozen. Fists curled up tight, stance wide like he’s about to charge ahead if only given the permission to do so. Aqua would have expected him to glance back as if to say, Are you stupid?

But he doesn’t look back. She can only imagine him grinding his teeth, muttering curses to himself. Whether he’s staring at her or the sky through his helmet, it doesn’t matter.

Aqua has the Defender at the edge of her fingertips, only needing to summon it. Xemnas stands there with his hands crossed behind him, watching as the ship leaves. 

A roar thunders through the area, making the ground shake. 

What looks like a dragon snakes through the sky. Compartmentalized into chunks that link together a long chain for a body, its purple and green and bears the Heartless symbol on its chest, just below its giant snout and metal fangs. It looks like a machine, something that can drill into a planet until it gets to its core. And then eats.

The weight of it. It’s like carrying a mountain on your shoulders. This thing is a cluster. A Heart of some world that died who knows how long ago, living again as a monster big enough to swallow a ship. 

Xemnas readies his energy sabers but Aqua doesn’t take the bait. She turns on her heel and runs.

Vanitas conjures his Keyblade and follows her. She dodges one of his blasts that comes up behind her. Throws herself off the nearest cliff to thwart him off of her trail. He actually stops to gawk at how she summons Stormfall. She commands it to convert it into her glider so she has something solid to land on.

She takes flight, past the barrier that tries to pull her back to Castle Oblivion, but when she keeps momentum, it lets her go out into deep space. The gummi ship is traversing an area full of them, all of these destroyed worlds, all pieces of earth that Aqua can take a whole day exploring. The monster dragon is huge, weaving around abandoned rubble, its tail whipping into an asteroid and demolishing it into dust. 

Its nose follows the gummi ship closely, as though it’s sniffing. It bares teeth.

“Sora!”

How ridiculous of her - he can’t hear her from the ship. She dislodges the handles of her glider, turning them over so she’s holding a bow as tall as her. With it, she shoots shards of light against the dragon. 

The gummi ship bends into a tunnel inside a spinning asteroid - a wild, dangerous, stupid choice to make and she’ll have to lecture Sora about that later. It comes out of a different hole, now facing the dragon, joining the fight with torpedoes and laser beams. 

The attacks burst when it makes contact with its skin (more like an armor), but it doesn’t leave any scarring. It doesn’t slow it down. Its roar is mechanical, as though it’s coming out of a speaker, sleeking over a boulder so it could chomp the ship directly. 

Aqua grunts as she speeds up, coming up from underneath the dragon’s chin to knock its direction off-kilter. It misses the ship. Good, for now at least, since it swerves back so easily.

Whoever is maneuvering the ship (Aqua doesn’t know it’s Sora, but the way it jerks and gets cocky with taunting the dragon into following it reminds her so much of his fighting style) is making it tank around the perimeter, letting it get close to the dragon. If Sora wants to make a direct hit, he’s in a good position to do so. 

The dragon roars again. This time, a beam of energy bubbles in its throat, twice the size of the ship. Sora readies torpedoes and throws shots into its mouth. But it doesn’t faze the dragon either. 

They’re not going to survive this.

Sora understands. He dips below, the dragon tailing him with that beam still charging up for something catastrophic. Aqua tries zipping around its face, taking shots from her bow directly into its eyes, directly into its mouth in the hopes that it would combust its jaw open and stop the attack. Nothing happens. The dragon ignores her as though she’s just a fly bugging its face.

There’s one more option. Swooping high and higher, she swings over and looks down on the dragon. It opens its mouth wider as Sora barely pushes his speed. 

She charges down, the Master’s Defender in her hand while her other grips on her handlebars. This is an extreme choice to make, a silly little sword against a dragon the size of an entire world. But she’s never known Master Eraqus to ever fail her. To ever show weakness, even in that one night when he received a letter about someone who disappeared due to the darkness. He cried. He stood up. And told her this was why they did the work they did. Use the anger and desperation to drive her forward until the end. She’s desperate right now, and she yells into her helmet as she gathers speed. 

She cuts across the back of the dragon’s neck, where its definitive brain stem would have been. The dragon explodes - first from its mouth, light beams spurting out. Then in between each compartment that makes up the rest of its body, like volcanoes erupting, and tsunamis colliding, and earthquakes collapsing. 

Pieces of it fall through deep space, new asteroids joining the rest of the waste.

But that burst from its mouth hit the gummi ship, which is now smoking from its left wing. Aqua’s glider isn’t big enough to save them.

All she can do is follow the way it falls, to trail behind it when gravity makes it faster than she can possibly catch up to, and watch the way Sora wheels it around obstacles and debris as he tries to control it even though he can’t. 

Until it dives into a world that stands bright, a tall castle jutting out into a horizon. There’s a magic there that is protective. As though an invisible hand has grown out of its dirt, the gummi ship, with her friends inside, slows down, landing somewhere where the sunrise is just beginning.

[amyscascadingtabs]

i can’t see the future, but i know that it’s there

It's been eight months since her first pregnancy scare, when they decided to start trying. If she had been pregnant then, and everything had gone well, they could have just had a baby by now. She could have been up feeding a tiny newborn, or rocking them to sleep, or changing diapers, and she would still have been exhausted and maybe still in pain, but she would have had a baby and nothing else would have mattered.

Two times Amy Santiago finds herself awake in the middle of the night. post 7x06.

(read on ao3)

(thank you to @fourdrinkamy and @letsperaltiago for helping inspire this ❤️)

She knew it was coming.

It’s been the same pattern this month as well as the last, and the one before that. First trying, then hoping, then a negative early pregnancy test and a few days later, the ever-dreaded and detested arrival of her period.

 Amy’s never liked her period, but she’s never hated it this much before.

It used to just be something annoying, a bit of bleeding and exhaustion and cramps for a few days that temporarily made her life a tiny bit worse, but nothing she couldn't handle. She’d take some Midol, maybe ask Jake for a massage if she felt really sorry for herself, and move on with her life.

That was before they started trying. 

She takes early pregnancy tests, the ones that will tell you the results up to six days before a missed period, and when they're negative she knows what to expect. Still, there's always that glint of stubborn hope in the back of her mind before she's gotten it - maybe it's slow-starting, maybe it's a false negative, maybe - and it's first when she sees the first dark drops on the toilet paper that she fully admits defeat.

She's not pregnant this month either. Her body's telling her look, I got ready, I was about to let something grow here but you failed, and it's a gut punch because Amy Santiago does not do failure. Amy Santiago is successful. Amy Santiago has control. Amy Santiago isn’t supposed to be sitting on the floor hugging her legs to her knees and crying after putting a tampon in, crying because nothing's working and her body hates her, and the universe hates her and doesn’t want her to ever have a baby.

She wasn't even hoping this time, because they're taking a much-needed break to regain their sanity after the last months, but she still breaks down in tears again after texting Jake and asking him to buy more tampons on his way home.

 It feels wrong. She wants to be texting him about some ridiculous pregnancy craving that he would tease her for, or some morning sickness home remedy which he would gladly get. Not tampons.

 It feels wrong when she wakes up in the middle of the night, too.

The digital clock shows half-past five in the morning, and she’s exhausted, but there’s a dull ache in her lower abdomen and back and it hurts too bad to sleep through. Near unconsciously, she searches for the pack of painkillers in her nightstand, until she remembers they can negatively impact fertility and are hidden in the back of the bathroom cabinet for that exact reason. She shifts position instead.

It doesn’t help. The cramps are terrible, the worst she’s had in months, and they don’t get better even though she tries to fold herself double and press a pillow to her stomach. She can’t tell why they’re so bad, wonders if it’s but another way for her body to remind her of what a failure she is, but she knows she won’t be able to fall asleep until the pain has eased. Keeping herself hunched over, she stumbles into the bathroom and weighs the blue Advil box in her hands for a second before swallowing two tablets. Screw possible negative impacts on fertility. She just wants to sleep.

 Amy lies awake after, waiting for the medication to take effect. She focuses on the sound of Jake's even breaths next to her and tries to match her own inhales and exhales to it, making it a competition with herself to distract from the pain. The minutes on the clock tick by, one after the other, and she counts how many are left until the thirty-minute-mark. Twenty-three. Twenty-two. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about the fact that you're still not pregnant. Don't think about it don't think don't think don't think.

 It feels wrong, unfair and wrong, to be awake at night because of her period. Amy wishes she had another reason.

It's been eight months since her first pregnancy scare, when they decided to start trying. If she had been pregnant then, and everything had gone well, they could have just had a baby by now. She could have been up feeding a tiny newborn, or rocking them to sleep, or changing diapers, and she would still have been exhausted and maybe still in pain, but she would have had a baby and nothing else would have mattered. She would have had her family, and maybe she would have been a little frustrated at Jake for sleeping through the cries, maybe she would have elbowed him in the side and wheezed at him that it was his turn to get up - but she would also have gotten to witness the sight of him lowering himself over the crib, picking up their baby and holding them against his chest before giving them to her for a feed. She pictures his sleep-dazed expression and those transcendent heart-eyes overpowering every sign of exhaustion once he looked at their child, and bites her lip at the memory of his despondent look when she showed him the latest negative test.

The discrepancy between her wishes, and the Universe’s plans for them, has never felt so wide.

 She thinks of holding a positive pregnancy test for the first time in her life, of being told that something’s finally growing inside of her after months and months of single lines and minus signs and not pregnant-s. She thinks of going to an ultrasound, of seeing a perfect little alien-shaped blur kick their legs and wave their hands on the screen. Maybe she and Jake would go to one of those fancy 3D-scans later on, because if she knows them right, they would be too curious not to. She thinks of holding her just-born baby in her arms for the first time, being able to kiss their sweet little face after all those months of waiting.

 They’re taking a break from trying, but the dreaming hasn’t stopped, and the pain of not knowing when - or even if - the dreams will come true, has only grown sharper.

She doesn’t realize she’s started crying again until Jake stirs next to her, mumbling a worried Amy? that she pretends not to hear because it’s embarrassing enough to be awake in the middle of the night crying about her period and it’s even worse to wake someone else up because of it.

“I’m fine,” she sniffles, quickly wiping away the tears. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Ames...”

“It’s just my period, okay? It’s just cramps. I’m okay,” she says, and curses her voice for breaking on the last word.

“Do you want painkillers? A heating pad? I can give you a massage -”

“Jake…”

“Whatever you need, I’m here, I promise -”

“Just…” She closes her eyes. “Just hold me for a bit.”

 There’s a second’s silence like he’s surprised by the request, before he moves closer and wraps his arms around her.

There hasn’t been as much cuddling between them in the last few months. Every bit of physical intimacy has seemed to have just that tiny edge of pressure built into it, and lately, Amy’s found herself shying away from it, not wanting to instigate anything with the sole purpose of making her feel good. Her body’s betraying her, and whatever pleasure she may have longed for, she’s felt undeserving of it.

Tonight, though, she doesn’t care. She’s in pain and they’re taking a break from trying. She lets herself be pulled into his chest, her tears leaving wet stains on his shirt, and his hands stroke up and down her back as she lets herself relax in the embrace.

 “It’s not about the cramps, is it?” He asks, and she shakes her head. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

You don’t know that, she wants to say, but Jake’s voice is mild and caring and easy to trust. She nods instead.

 He doesn't say anything after, and she's grateful for the patience. His fingertips dance along her neck, pressing and drawing lazy patterns to make her relax, and slowly but surely, breathing gets easier.

 “I can't stop thinking,” she whispers once she's certain her voice won't break again. “What if I had been pregnant that day at the manhunt? Or if we'd gotten pregnant our first month trying?”

“Ames…”

“We could have had a baby by now, Jake. But we don't.”

He opens his mouth as if to protest, but she shakes her head again.

 “I just want a baby.” She rolls over on her back, staring up at the ceiling so she doesn't have to see the hurt in his eyes. Jake's arm slots around her shoulders, keeping her close.

“I don't want to be up at night because of fucking cramps. I wish I was up feeding our child, or soothing them, or forcing you to get up and do it. Hell, I would rather be up in the middle of the night because I was in labor than this, because at least that would mean we were having a baby, and it would have been better than this.”

Another single tear makes her way down her cheek. Jake wipes it away.

“I know, babe.”

“I know we're a family,” she says, reaching for his hand. “I love our family. But I just… I just want a baby.”

“We will have a baby,” he promises her without missing a beat. “Someday - somehow - we’ll have the most wanted and perfect baby. That’s a Peralta guarantee.”

The word makes her mouth twitch into a tired smile. Jake leans his head to the side, kissing her cheek.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, and she doesn't fully believe him yet, but she's tired and the painkillers are kicking in and she wants to believe him, which maybe, she figures, is a first step as good as any. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, and she squeezes his hand a little harder.

 He gets her the heating pad anyway, and then he lets her curl into his side, holding her as she’s finally able to fall asleep again.

 He’s her family. He’s the person who knows her better than anyone, knows what she needs even when she’s not sure of it herself. She wants so badly for them to have children, more than she wants anything else in the world, and the period pains aren’t even a tenth as bad as the pain of knowing no, not this month either.

 The lack of control is the worst part. The thought that something might be wrong with her is a close second. But most of all, she can’t shake the feeling that this isn't how it was supposed to be.

   ~

    one year later.

 Amy could have sworn it’s only been an hour since she was last up. When the soft whimpers from the crib next to her side of the bed turn to the sharp, ear-piercing cries they’ve already learned mean feed me now before I wake the entire building, she can’t help but mumble a curse over how tired she is. She thought she’d experienced exhaustion previously in her life, after night shifts and long stakeouts or cramming for exams, but she’s never even come close to the level at which two weeks into new motherhood measures. Amy Santiago of a year ago had no idea what she was in for.

 Jake mumbles something, an attempt of offering to get up, but she tells him it’s fine, promise and he sighs in contentment, pulling the covers back up to his chin. He’s definitely taking the sleep-deprivation harder than she is, but he was also the one who was up changing a leaking diaper that demanded an outfit change without batting an eye about an hour ago, so Amy can’t be mad. Besides, she doesn’t need him for this. Breastfeeding is her thing, and she selfishly loves that she gets to have their daughter all to herself for these moments.

 With some determination, she manages to sit up on the side of the bed, standing up to lean over the crib. It’s far from smooth, because she's still sore and ungraceful, but she powers through. Her baby needs her.

 Gently hushing, she bends down to lift their daughter. The cries soften as the girl notices her, reducing to just a frustrated whining, and Amy smiles because she's not completely terrible at this.

“It's okay,” she says, cupping the back of her daughter's head and supporting her bottom, making sure the swaddle blanket with colorful circus animals is coming along as she holds the infant against her chest. “It's okay, baby, I'm here.”

There’s another whimper like her baby’s trying to make sure she’s being told the truth, and it’s one of the cutest sounds Amy’s heard. Pressing a kiss to her little forehead, shamelessly breathing in her scent because everyone was totally right when they talked about how addicting the smell of your own newborn is, Amy bites her lip and tries not to groan in discomfort as she adjusts herself back to a sitting position. People had warned her giving birth would be horrible; most forgot to mention the recovery part wouldn’t be any more fun. She’s grateful it’s getting better, and also to whoever invented disposable underwear and ice pads.

 She reaches for the nursing pillow and turns on the nightstand lamp so she can see what she’s doing, squinting as the bright lighting hurts her eyes. Apparently, her baby isn’t a fan of it either, because she pouts her lip and makes an upset face that nearly breaks Amy’s heart.

“I know,” she tells her, brushing her hand over the soft black hair on her daughters’ head. “I’m sorry. No fun. I just haven’t learned to do this in darkness yet, so you have to be patient. I’m working on it. See?” Still holding the newborn on her right arm, she manages to use her left hand to unhook the strap of the nursing tank top, then doing the same for the bra.

“Impressed? You should be. I’m telling you, it’s harder than it looks with one hand.”

Her daughter doesn’t look too impressed, more impatient, so Amy shakes her head and guides her towards the breast, gently placing her jaw there and helping her get the right latch.

 Breastfeeding had turned out to be much more complicated than she’d thought. It seemed so natural when she pictured it, so obviously something she would want to try, but she’d failed to prepare for how difficult it would be to a beginning. Sore, cracked nipples before they could figure out the correct latch, the feeling that her boobs were about to explode once her milk came in, the leaking and the fact that every feed seemed to last forever. She’d pictured fifteen minutes, not forty. It’d been a rough start with a lot of tears for both her and baby, but once she’d powered through the first ten days or so, she’d been positively surprised to discover how much easier it became. Her daughter knew what she was doing. If she just allowed herself to relax a little, so did Amy.

 She counts to ten when her daughter sucks down rather hard - the first ten seconds are the worst - and then, she takes a deep breath once she can hear the peaceful suckling that’s already made its way to the top of her list of favorite baby noises. They're both learning how to do this now, and for every time, Amy’s loving it more. Sure, it's a little messy, and she never gets to sleep, but it's also the moments she feels closest to her newborn. This is something only she can do for her daughter. Anyone can hold her or change a diaper, and the kid falls asleep better in Jake's arms than anywhere else, but when it comes to this, Amy's the only one. This is their time together.

 Her daughter seems to really like it, too. It’s clear in the way she’ll make eye contact while feeding, her light brown eyes - the same color as Jake’s - staring into Amy’s darker ones with surprising intent and focus. Newborns are nearsighted, Amy knows. She wonders sometimes if nature made it so that they’re born able to see exactly this distance, not needing anything else.

And then, like the moment wasn’t sweet enough already, her daughter brings her tiny hand up to rest on Amy’s chest, and she could cry from the feeling of overwhelming love, drowning her and casting her back up on shore a new person.

“I love you too,” she whispers, stroking her thumb over the round cheeks she’s so obsessed with. It’s cool to think about how they’re all thanks to her, because she’s nourishing this child with her body. “So much more than you could ever understand, baby.”

“You were so wanted. More than you’ll ever know. There were days where I thought about giving up, because nothing was working, and some days I wondered if we’d ever meet you.” She thinks of the night at Shaw’s when she finally confessed that she had no idea what to do, thinks of just wanting to start a family, getting a chance to grow the magic she and Jake already had together. “Most of the time I still can’t believe you’re here and this isn’t all just a dream.”

“You were so wished for, Evelyn,” she says, pronouncing her daughter’s name with all the care and love she has in her heart. “You were so wished for, it’s the reason we gave you your name.”

 (Baby names had started a fun thing, quickly turned into intense debating, and calmed down once they agreed on a boy’s name - and then they found out they were having a girl. It had seemed a practically impossible feat to find common ground, resulting in more than one slightly too heated argument. Jake wanted something that sounded cool, Amy wanted something that had a nice meaning, and the two never seemed to overlap; until the day Jake came home from work and claimed he’d interviewed a witness that day with the coolest, most perfect name.

“And look at the meaning,” he’d said, showing her the NameBerry tab on his phone.

Meaning of Evelyn: “wished for child”.

Amy had only been able to nod.)

She remembers the detailed calendar with its green highlighted ovulation - fertile window, and the timing of sex that had felt clinical and half-hearted and not at all like them. Vitamins, too many vitamins even for her, the obsessive tracking of every glass of water and shift in temperature. She remembers every negative test, the shiny spark of hope each time she laid the little plastic stick down to develop, thinking this might be the one only to have all hope crushed again three minutes later. She remembers the disappointment in Jake’s eyes every time, remembers hating herself for the way he tried to hide it when really, it was probably all her fault and she was just bad at making babies. All the sleepless nights a year ago, when she tossed and turned with anxiety, wondering if a tiny half-her and half-Jake perfect baby would ever be in the cards for them.

It seems a lifetime ago, but she remembers every bit of pain and exhaustion like it was yesterday.

 Motherhood is exhausting, too - Amy no longer remembers what it’s like to sleep for more than three hours at a time - but it’s also gratifying, and extraordinary, and indescribably beautiful despite the struggle. She feared she’d never get to experience this, but she is, and it’s worth every blocked milk duct and sleepless night when she nudges Evelyn’s little hand with her index finger and her daughter clasps her hand around it.

She got her baby in the end. She got her family.

 Reaching for the glass of water on her nightstand and taking a few sips, she catches a glimpse of the digital clock next to it. It’s been around fifteen minutes since they started nursing, meaning she’s probably about halfway through. She should try to switch sides.

“Hey, Ev,” she whispers, brushing her thumb over the newborn’s chin. “You think we can do this? Maybe even somewhat smoothly?”

Evelyn hiccups at that, spitting out a little bit of milk that drips down Amy’s chest.

“Okay, forget smoothly. You think we can do this, period?”

 She gives Jake a longing glance, wondering if she should try to wake him and ask for help, but he’s sleeping so soundly despite the bright lighting that she decides against it. Besides, she’s totally got this. She’s just going to get a nursing pad and a burp cloth from the nightstand, and then she’s going to unclasp the other side of the tank top and bra and put the first side back together, and then -

 Evelyn pulls away suddenly - too quickly for the flow to stop - and it comes down all over her face, making her grimace in protest. Her little face scrunches up, and two seconds later, she's crying.

“Sscch, honey, it's okay,” Amy whispers, quickly following the instinct to hold her daughter upright against her chest, swaying slightly from side to side. “Sorry about that.”

She manages to reach for a burp cloth, wiping away the milk that seems to have gotten all over the newborn’s face. Evelyn stops crying and Amy takes a relieved breath, switching the newborn to her left arm and unclasping that side of her tank top and bra. Her daughter latches on, quicker this time, and Amy’s just about to relax again when she realizes she never had a chance to fix the other side, and now it’s leaking. She tries to at least clasp the hooks of the bra together, but what’s doable with her left hand is impossible with just her right, and she fumbles and gives up. She can’t get a nursing pad, either, because they’re on the nightstand to her left and she can’t reach for them without twisting herself completely and disturbing her daughter. She tries to use the burp cloth still in her hand to save some of the worst, but her tank top is already uncomfortably damp from it and Amy’s stuck.

 It’s so far from glamorous - new motherhood in general, but especially this right now - and she’s deliriously tired but so happy at the same time, it’s all she can do to laugh.

“This is a mess, huh, Ev?” She asks her daughter, adjusting the legs of her pajamas. Jake had remarked the other day that baby pajamas must be one of the most pointless inventions, considering newborns sleep as much or little no matter the time of the day, but they also both agreed on it being the cutest category of clothing known to mankind. This one has a pattern with smiling clouds and stars on it, and it’s already making Amy emotional to think that her daughter will have grown out of it in a couple of weeks.

“We’re all a bit of a mess right now,” she whispers to the child. “I think that's okay. We're figuring it out together. It’s all that matters.”

Evelyn hiccups, dribbling more milk over herself and Amy, and Amy can't help but laugh again because she’s slowly being covered in it and she's not going to have a chance at freshening up with a shower for several hours if she wants any sleep at all, and yet everything has never felt so perfect. A year ago, she wouldn’t have dared to dream of this, but now it’s her life.

 Jake yawns next to her, rubbing his eyes before looking up at them with an entertained grin.

“How are things going?”

“Messy,” Amy groans. “I’m not sure I’m nailing this thing just yet. There’s milk everywhere.”

“You're doing great,” he assures her, patting her leg, and she grimaces at the praise. “Need any help?”

“Desperately. Please fix this side for me,” she nods to her right and Jake laughs, but he gets out of bed, gets the stuff and fixes it for her without comment, bending down to kiss the top of their daughter’s head when he's done.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells them, slotting back on his side of the bed but supporting his head with his hand to hold himself up. “This - this is beautiful.”

“Ev's beautiful. I smell like sour milk and have never slept less in my life,” Amy corrects him, but he just smiles.

“You’ve never looked so happy before,” he says. “That's beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s a loving eye-roll, because he’s absolutely right. Even with the exhaustion, messiness and slight chaos of the moment, she’s never been so happy.

 “I can’t believe we got here,” she whispers. Evelyn pulls away, finally seeming content, and Amy gives her over to Jake who practically shines with pride as he drapes a burp cloth over his shoulder.

“Told you we would.”

“I know.” Amy wipes a little bit of milk away from Evelyn’s chin with her thumb before kissing Jake’s cheek. “I love our family.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says, eyes soft as he looks at their daughter again. He pats her back a little harder and she looks right at him before letting out a loud burp, making both of her parents laugh. “So do I.”

 This, Amy thinks as Jake gets up to change another diaper while she closes her eyes to get the chance of a few more hours of sleep, this is how it was supposed to be.

   ~

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Chap 5: The Finale

**Go and grab your tissue box. You’ll really need to stop being so emosh. @cph-dreaming @fehmyn @hopetofantasy @cleocc @msmesasha​. If I forgot to tag you am sorry. It’s only one memory and that's all you're getting.**

Disclaimer: Same rules apply.

Italics is the past. If not, it's August 15th at any point in the day I chose to drop you into.

“Just one?” 

“Yeah” Robbe responded, acknowledging the cashier.

“To Amsterdam?”

Robbe nodded.

“1st or 2nd class?”

“1st please.”

“That will be €54”

Robbe shoots the cashier a nondescript smile as he sticks his credit card into the card reader and enters his pin to complete the transaction. The cashier hands him over the purchase receipt and signals for the next customer to proceed. Robbe begins to walk away and clumsily walks back a couple of steps and asks “In what direction is platform 3?”. The cashier signals towards the left hand side exit of the post office. Robbe sees the platform in the distance as he exits the store and runs towards it with a couple of minutes to spare before departure. He makes it in just the nick of time and settles into a window seat, anxious to reach his final destination.

The nostalgia of his final stop always caught Robbe off guard. Every time he came back here whether on his own, or with him, everything seemed to have stayed exactly the same since the first time. This place was a strange kinda of place wrapped up in its own personal deja-vu. Housing an unknown poltergeist where earthlingly oddities roamed and mother nature dared to roll around with the solar flares of the sun between her legs. A consequence of all the zygotes that got produced here seasonally. Robbe really didn’t care though, he loved it here, he always found himself here. There was something about this place; rudimentary in its makeup at best but possessing a sense of serenity,  with a dose of mystery, even some romance, a portal to another universe. This place always felt like home. Robbe would visit old haunts, walk the dunes of time, revel in the taste of sodium in the air. He’d hit up familiar store stalls, check out the best vantage points but eventually he’d always find himself back at their old place.

It was restaurant style. Not the fancy type made out of linen.It was white with miniature clams embossed atop, 2ply, 15 inches across but folded down the middle, then folded into 4’s and then once more to emulate the size of a standard envelope. Robbe had seen them in different colors but most people in the world only saw them in that pearl white that the standard restaurant napkins were made of. He just stared into the pattern recalling the day when this senseless artifact became an urn that stored the ashes of his love story.

“This is so stupid, I mean it's basically a pipe dream. It’s never gonna happen.” Sander told Robbe as he pulled out a marker from his back pocket.

“Come on just do it for me.” Robbe begged. Sander chuckled because he knew once Robbe made a request he was going to appease it.

“Okay…. So my dream tattoo shop would look something like this.”  Sander drew out three squares lined up horizontally next to each other like carriages on a train atop the restaurant napkin.

“So the whole concept would be based on the idea that it wouldn't even look like a tattoo shop but a gallery space. Operationally it would be a place of business but functionally it would double up as a tattoo shop/community art space. You know people always associate tattoo shops as these dark and dengy out posts but when you’d walk into mine you’d be flushed with a burst of light making the whole place feel airy. Like a sense of wholeness or something.”

Robbe found Sander’s light up smile endearing as he walked through his imaginary tattoo shop schematic. Robbe rubbed the top of Sander’s hand with his thumb encouraging Sander to continue explaining his future’s prospects.

“I love the way you think baby. You're always so thoughtful and creative.”

“Like I said it's never going to happen but you never know right….life is full of surprises.” Sander was downplaying how much he wanted this future to become a reality.

“No no no. Don’t say it’s never going to happen. We’ll find a way to make it happen.”

“Oh are you going to learn how to tattoo now?” Sander gave Robbe a cheeky grin because Robbe couldn’t even draw a rectangle correctly. Well at least not yet...

“No but I’ll find a way to chip in. I could run the reception or something.” Robbe knew that wouldn’t be much help but that's the best his nineteen year old self could come up with at the time.

“Promise we’ll find a way to make it happen?” Robbe always did this to Sander. Whenever Sander lacked belief in himself Robbe would make him promise on whatever desire he was discounting.

“Only if you promise we’ll do it together?”

“Deal, I mean that’s not a hard request. You know I always keep my promises.”

Robbe and Sander both giggled because both of them knew that Robbe’s promises never faltered. Robbe was the most reliable person Sander knew. Sander couldn’t help but indulge Robbe’s interest in their never gonna happen future.

“Anyways I’m thinking the color scheme would go something like white in the gallery, black in the tattoo shop and then maybe an entry to a garden or patio area.”

Sander rambled on and on about how eventually the gallery space could host events or have fun community sessions. He could teach art to youths since he knew how much art had helped him when he was younger. He had completely mapped out the potential of a place like this and the excitement in his voice was insatiable to say the least.

Robbe loved hearing the sound of Sander’s voice in this particular amped up pitch. It was so tranquil and soothing to him.

“Excuse me, do you need this? It was stuck in between the euros on top of your bill.”

Robbe looked up from the napkin and took inventory of his surroundings. He had got lost in his own memories again. It was becoming a frequent occurrence as of late. He looked up at the waitress who was attempting to hand him over a waxy piece of textured paper. He thanked her and took hold of it.

It was the post office receipt.

Robbe had almost totally forgotten about the dread of having to text Luc to let him know he had mailed back his stuff today. Specifically his GIRL brand skateboard that he adored so much. They hadn’t spoken since their break up but as Robbe went to grab his phone to text Luc he saw a text from Kes.

“Sorry, this is awkward but Luc asked me to ask you if you mailed back his stuff yet?”

        - Kes

“I did it today. It should get to him in 3-5 days. I mailed it 1st class.”

“Umm how’s he doing? Has he said anything to you?”

        - Robbe

“Look, That's my best friend.I don’t want to get involved. All he said to me was that you weren’t ready to invest in love….”

       - Kes

Luc always had a way with words. Always knew how to make Robbe feel guiltier than he already felt. Luc was as blunt as a knife's edge so when he stabbed you he made sure it was torturous and never swift.

As the waitress laid down Robbe’s change from his paid bill he took one final glance over to the broken down booth that he and Sander used to call “their spot”. It stung seeing it empty but he still smiled at the memory of his younger self sneaking the diagram that Sander had penned atop the napkin into his brown jacket. Not knowing then that eventually he’d get to remind an older Sander that sometimes dreams do come true.

The walk back to the house on the beach was refreshing. A light zephyr surged around the pier’s promenade creating an idyllic breeze that seemed to galvanize the local pelican community into flight. The whole ambiance of this beachy hideaway gave Robbe a much needed reprieve from the conflict ensuing in his mind. A litany of doubtful thoughts with no real answers. Continued avoidance was working so far in his favor but Robbe knew that Sander’s patience would wear.

They hadn’t spoken much since the break up. Sander had stuck around for a few days after the initial night to keep Robbe company but the whole ordeal lacked morality. They'd lay in bed together watching TV while Sander just held Robbe tightly. Practically bruising Robbe’s arms. Every few hours Robbe would be stricken with a wave of guilt over what he had done to Luc and he’d need Sander to fuck it out of him. The situation was dire and the irrational had somehow become the rational. Robbe needed to get his shit together and stop his dopesick lifestyle. Sander could not become the dragon he needed to chase to stop the withdrawals. He didn’t deserve that. Robbe had done what he had done and he needed to learn to live with it.

He did eventually kick Sander out after 4 days of this delirium stating that he needed time and space and he just needed Sander to respect that for now. He also called his boss explaining the situation and begging him to forget his resignation. Robbe was lucky that the firm was understaffed and had just signed on new business because otherwise Thibaut would have never agreed to it. At least that was one crisis averted, his apartment on the other hand was in shambles. Everything was in packing boxes and everything needed to be rehoused which was a painstaking process but he did it. It took him a couple of weeks but he did eventually put the pieces of his life back together. Finally waking up one morning after a three week haze with an impulsive craving to head to the house on the beach. Robbe wasn’t sure why he needed to go there, he just knew that it was calling and thus why he now found himself wandering down the promenade on his lonesome. A sherbet sky as his backdrop.

Robbe welcomed the change of scenery of his beachy escape. A part of him loathed his apartment now it was covered in a slime of memories he could not scrub away. Though the house on the beach was nothing more than some worn down furniture he welcomed the opportunity to grab his guitar and lay out on the garden bench outside his room and just strum the night away. It was that time of the day anyways. Sander and Robbe barely spoke or texted during this reflective period but they did communicate in the best way they knew how. See these siloed lovers had their own traditions. Sander had established it but Robbe had developed it. When either one of them didn't feel like talking, usually Sander they communicate in their most comfortable non-verbal formats. For Sander this was his usual set of drawings and for Robbe it was always his guitar. So keeping in line with their usual pattern Sander would text Robbe pictures of his drawings daily and Robbe would return to sender a voice clip of whatever chorus he had strummed together for the day. So that was what he was in the middle of doing when he saw it.

Robbe looked out onto the rainbow sherbet sky; it was an apparition in the distance. He blinked to make sure it wasn't an illusion then a second time for confirmation but it wasn’t a trick of the mind. A figure began to materialize over the sand dunes in an all black attire sporting some laced up Doc Marten’s.

Robbe’s body tensed up. How could it even be possible that he was here too... but as soon as the affliction of concern took over him it quickly dematerialized as the apparition in the distance came into focus and took on corporeal form. Robbe definitely didn’t know her but he couldn't stop observing her. She had a juggernaut presence, he was in awe, curious too but more so because she felt so familiar. Her lavender pinkish locks stood out; they helped frame her face with a dose of softness which was in opposition with the rest of her appearance.

She made a b-line towards Robbe’s direction approaching him with haste. She passed the candy strip ballards and walked onto the wooden planked walkway that paved the entrance of the house on the beach. She stopped at the teal colored Kalise cooler. She opened it and evaluated whatever she found inside and walked right over to the wooden garden bench where Robbe sat legs up strumming his guitar. Robbe shifted his focus downward in an attempt to avoid her gaze.

“Are you the manager here?”

Robbe looked at her completely bewildered recalling the previous time he was asked that same question. Before he had time to think of a cheeky retort she interjected into his thoughts.

“I just wanted to pay for a beer from the cooler”

Robbe kicked his legs off the bench and sat up.

“Oh those are mine actually but feel free to grab one. Free of charge of course”

Robbe shot her a wink.

She was pretty, he thought. Robbe had to double check his senses for a moment. He had never been drawn to a woman like this before. He took a moment to evaluate his entire life choices but it definitely wasn’t that. It wasn’t that kind of connection but there was something about her. It's like his body was reacting to some strange paradox in the universe that had hashed out this otherworldly eidolon sitting in front of him.

“Ummm do I have something on my face or something?” She asked as she brought the rim of the bottle to her lips.

“No…” Robbe replied with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Ok so what are you staring at?”

“Shit sorry, you just seem so familiar. Am just trying to put my finger on where I may have seen you before. Are you from around here?”

“Do I sound like I am from around here?” She slapped back with a hint of sarcasm.

Robbe felt like an idiot as soon as the sentence left his mouth. She clearly had a heavy accent and she definitely wasn’t from around here. Her dutch was terrible but conversational. Her whole vibe screamed from somewhere south.

“So whose heart did you break?”

“What?” Robbe scoffed in disbelief. The reminder of guilt sinking him back into his seat.

“Come on..a pretty boy like you strumming his guitar with this as his backdrop” She pointed out to the sherbet bleeding sky; currently highlighting a color mixture of tangerine and cadmium rouge.

“A bit cliche don’t you think?”

“How’d you know I broke someone’s heart and they didn’t break mine?”

“With a face like that. You’re definitely the culprit.” Robbe was blushing but he didn’t disagree; he just stretched out the bottom half of his jaw in a slight twitch.

“Come on I can smell the guilt coming off you? Trust me I should know, it’s my favourite scent.” The pretty girl shot him an eyebrow raise to check Robbe’s temperature. Making sure she hadn’t offended him.

“I don’t even know you….”

“That’s the best part. You can tell me everything and I’ll be honest with you”

At first this sounded ludicrous but then again Robbe hadn’t told anyone the events that had actually occurred that had caused his downward spiral. He was deeply ashamed of how he handled everything and couldn’t bear to see the judgement across Jens or Lia’s face.

“I am Robbe, perpetual dumpster fire of a person. What’s your name?”

The pixie doll apparition shot her focus downward and whispered out, “Whatever you want it to be Robbe?”

“Pick a name for me?”

Why all the mystery? Robbe thought to himself. A didactic approach, Robbe could recognize a fellow strategist when he encountered one.

“No no no, you don’t get to do that. I can’t be the only one telling my secrets.”

She scoffed.

“Fine fine. Call me C.J.”

Robbe pulled a face, “That is not your real name.”

“You said you wanted a name, you never said anything about it being my real name. Take it or leave it.”

God she really did remind him of someone.

“Ok Robbe, I kept my end of the bargain. So tell me your secrets.”

Robbe rolled his eyes at her. There was something about her that was positively unbearable but also highly comforting.

“I recently broke up with my boyfriend…..” Robbe murmured out. She waved her hand in a circular motion indicating to Robbe that she wanted more details and to keep going.

“Because I think i'm still in love with my ex….”

“You think? Or you know?” C.J. questioned.

Robbe put his guitar down on the side of the bench and buried his face in his hands as a display of his frustration.

“I gather that means you know.”

C.J. pivoted her entire body towards his and scooted over rubbing Robbe’s shoulder very lightly. A strangely intimate gesture to exchange between strangers.

“It’s okay, I mean it's not, but you know what I mean.” C.J. attempted to quell Robbe’s worries.

“Ok your gonna need another beer so you can tell me what happened.”

C.J. got up and scurried to the Kalise cooler and hurried back with a beer in hand.

Robbe took a large gulp as soon as she put it in his grip.

“I slept with my ex-boyfriend as soon as me and my new boyfriend broke up”

C.J. shocked her head back and forth as a sign of some weird understanding.

“How long after the break up?”

Robbe buried his face back into his hands. He didn’t want to look at her reaction.

“Like an hour…..”

Robbe clearly heard her shocked snort which was preceded by heavy coughing.

“Sorry, choked on my beer there for a second. An hour? How? Did you drive a ferrari to his house?” She was definitely mocking him now.

“No he was waiting on my doorstep?”

“You got him delivered? His not takeout Robbe.”

“But I gotta admit you Belgians are impressive. We don’t have those types of delivery services from where I'm from. At best you can get a lukewarm pizza to your doorstep.”

Robbe looked at C.J. who was clearly trying to ease the tension and crack a joke. Robbe felt a genuine smile come across his face. He’d been struggling to get one of those to appear as of late.

“Look, I am not gonna sugar coat it. You're a real life asshole.”

“Excuse me?” Robbe responded a bit offended.

“Yeah I mean who breaks up with their boyfriend and has their ex delivered to them within an hour? Kinda of an asshole thing to do.”

“You know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Robbe’s tone had hardened.

“You don’t, but you want to, right? I know because I've been there. Am the biggest asshole I know.”

“So here we are two of the biggest assholes drinking a beer together. Cheers!”

C.J. tapped her beer onto Robbe’s.

Though his instinct was too feel offended by the words coming out of C.J.’s mouth his heart and his head felt a bit of relief finally letting it all out. No matter how ugly his truths sounded out loud.

“Have you ever done something like that yourself?” Robbe questioned C.J. hoping for a bit of camaraderie.

“Not something like that but I’ve put my girlfriend through some serious bullshit. Why do you think I'm in some foreign country driving towards home?”

C.J. pointed at herself, “Total asshole remember”.

“Look Robbe when you're young, a teenager even. You can make mistakes like that and people give you the benefit of the doubt but when you're older everything counts. It's harsh but true.If you keep messing up at our age you become a pariah, a write off, beyond repair, ready to be put out to pasture.”

“But at the same time life’s complicated. People are complicated. Your love story sounds complicated. So ask yourself this, would he really stick by you through the good times, the bad and the motherfucking worse? Because everyone swears they would but in reality that’s not really true. They have no idea how bad it can really get. How bad you can really get. So I’d ask yourself this, would he fight for you? No matter the outcome?”

Robbe just stared at her. He kept wanting to say something but he couldn't seem to construct a sentence. Then it clicked like osmosis.

“You remind me of him, you know. The way you talk. Your whole vibe.” Robbe did a wax on/wax off gestures in C.J.’s direction.

“Who knows..maybe we’re the same person. Do you believe in parallel universes?”

Robbe's head violently spun around. A tidal wave of deja-vu was submerging him. He just nodded in confirmation. Robbe was definitely a believer of parallel universes.

“Yeah I thought so. Kindred spirits and all. We tend to find each other.”

Robbe knew what she meant. It was weird but somehow he felt like they had been here before.

Robbe and C.J. just sat there in silence for a while watching the colors of tangerine and cadmium rouge disappear into midnight hues. Robbe occasionally strumming some chord changes into the air. C.J. humming out some impromptu melodies both go them going back and forth discussing guitar legends that one another should check out. Until it was time for their rendezvous to end.

“I should go. I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”

Robbe frowned a little disappointed. He didn’t want her to leave.

C.J. noticed and pouted in response. Both man and woman giggled into the breezy night. Before C.J. stood up she left Robbe with a nugget of truth as she drank the dregs of what was left of her last beer. Wiping her mouth down on her long sleeve shirt as she finished her drink.

“Robbe……” She sounded somber.

“The world never wanted people like you and I to be lovers. They bullied us into becoming fighters and we’ve been trying to get back to loving ever since. Just look at our past”

“My advice, look out for the small stuff. Signs. You can build a foundation off those. If you’re willing...”

C.J. began to get up from the bench.

“You’ll be fine either way Robbe but if you do have someone worth fighting for I try to protect that from the world. Remember through the good, the bad and the mother fucking worse. No matter the outcome.”

Her words struck a chord in Robbe.

“Promise me if you find that. That you’ll jump?”

C.J.’s dark brown eyes felt like they were pinning down Robbe’s soul down. Holding him to some unknown truth but he couldn’t say no to her.

“I promise” Robbe affirmed.

C.J. smiled and quickly broke the seriousness of the entire exchange.

“Right time to go. This was great. Best one night stand of my life. I didn’t even have to put out.”

“Are you ever just normal?” Robbe teased.

“What’s so great about being normal… am an enigma Robbe.” C.J. began to walk down the wooden sandy planks when Robbe shouted out to her.

“Hey, How do I find you again?”

“You don’t Robbe. This was just a random anomaly. We were never meant to meet in the first place.”

Though normally this would seem like a brush off. Robbe somehow understood the dyadic transaction that had just occurred.

“I guess we’ll meet again in another universe?” He let out.

C.J. stopped dead in her tracks.

She twirled back around, her entire self looking back at Robbe and said.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

[mementotori]

/post/181599206068/ i scrolled back through your oc tag and discovered the Dres sisters & I love them and want to know more so can I ask for 32, 36, and 38 for them? (it's a lot i'm sry)

DON’T BE SORRY AT ALL I LOVE TALKING ABOUT THEM!!!!!!

32: What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

Saegis-Always the practical one, Sage was never the kind of noble who really liked to adorn herself with fancy silks and linens. Saegis hates spending money on clothes, and especially by the 4th era she just takes to making her own. 

When she ran away from home she took very few clothes, and having jumped right into the Morag Tong she was (during the events of Morrowind) mostly in that regalia. Outside of the guild I see her wearing clothing very similar to Rey’s outfit in The Last Jedi. She prefers subdued colors, blues and browns and greys.

When she’s going to bed she typically sleeps in her underoos. As she gets older and has kids she wears one of her husbands loose shirts, which to be fair looks like a dress on her.

As for makeup, Saegis typically lines her eyes with black kohl. (If anyone is interested her fc is Huma Qureshi). She tries not to draw too much attention to herself. She had once had long curly navy blue/black hair, but in an act of defiance to her mother she shaved it into a mohawk.

Narya-(Her fc is Katrina Kaif) Narya appreciates clothing much more than Sage, but especially during the events of Morrowind she resigns herself to having to wear simpler clothing. Being Nerevarine and travelling to the different Ashlander tribes, she really loves the patterns and colors that they use and definitely wears a lot more of that style as time goes on. She’s most likely to be seen wearing this

To bed, Narya typically has a thin silky gown she has grown partial to. Vvardenfell nights tend to be warm, so she dresses accordingly.

With makeup, Narya used to wear a lot of dark eyeliner and lighter grey lipsticks. Being on the road she didn’t really have the time to do so, but when she has the time she still likes to wear it. She definitely enjoyed that part of impressing the Houses in order to be made Hortator.

Nayra’s hair is wavy and orange. It’s usually cropped to just above her shoulders. She has bangs long enough to brush her eyelashes.

Moirrin-(FC Shraddha Kapoor) MOIRRIN IS THE EXCEPTION IN THIS FAMILY TBH. Moirrin will dress to the nines. She adorns herself in jewels and red silks and satin. Much like this. Moirrin shops only at the finest places, her clothing is usually custom made. This hardly changes when she moves to Elsweyr. Moirrin loves her clothes, feeling that if you don;t look your best then how can you conduct good business?

Moirrin is the type of person who also likes to look good when she’s sleeping. She is not above wearing makeup to bed. The makeup itself is always perfect, she prefers red lipsticks and dark eye shadows. She keeps her long wavy black hair well brushed and down. She adorns it in rubies and gold threads.

36: What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

Saegis-From a very young age her father had her training with daggers. Her parents figured it would be a better way of getting out her aggression as long as she kept it quiet. She got older and got it in her head she could use this skill outside of her parents home, opting to join the Morag Tong in secret rather than marry into more money.

In her off time Saegis does like to sit and read, and as she gets older (especially when they retire) she takes to tending to her garden with her husband.

Saegis can sing, she just chooses not to. Sometimes she’s caught by her family singing softly to her grandbabies.

Narya-She is an exceptional artist. While Sage was out drinking and arm wrestling the local tavern goers, Narya was at home dabbling with her oil paints. More into her teenage years, Narya would go into the courtyard with Sage and help train. But Narya oddly enough had an affinity for swordplay rather than finesse with daggers.

Having grown up in a nobles house she had tutors to help her hone the finer arts. She always enjoyed them more than Sage, and she loves to sing during quiet time. Narya is much more soft-spoken, and I imagine her voice similar to Emmy Rossum as Christine Daae.

Moirrin-Moirrin is a skillful diplomat. She is excellent at making people feel important and then when their back is turned she will most certainly stab them in the back. That being said, in her down time she will tend to matters regarding her family estate, or she will be nose deep in notes taken by spies she has paid handsomely. Occasionally she will read for fun, but why read fiction when you can be reading about how a noble in Anvil is cheating on his wife with a King?

She greatly enjoys singing if it means she has all eyes on her. She is exceptionally trained in most Dunmeri operatic songs.

38: What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

Saegis-She greatly admires when someone has extreme patience, like Narya. Saegis is a bit of a hothead and it hardly cools as she gets older. As temperamental as she is, Sage doesn’t tend to be jealous. She has the outlook of “I am what I am, you get what you get.”

Living in Skyrim Sage has gone many times with her husband to hunt for food. However she’s rubbish with a bow, opting more often than not to skin the animal.

Narya-Narya truly admires when someone has a strong sense of morals, especially when they use them to help others. At many times during the events of Morrowind, Narya wishes she had a lot more of the confidence that Sage has. Much of being Hortator involves the false niceties of court, and a lot of that comes with having to impress other Houses. Most of the time she’s alone.

Moirrin-For all of her pomp and circumstance, there isn’t much that Moirrin looks for in others that she wishes she had. That being said, she greatly admires when someone had the self confidence that she holds highly as a quality in herself. Much like Sage she is extremely sure of herself. But, if Moirrin was ever jealous, she wouldn’t ever show it.

[glitched-reflections-blog]

Harpy Matsu AU

Okay. Tabimatsu staff, you got me. Bird/Parrot Matsus? Let me expand on that and make them harpies. I love Oso-san AUs with a passion, but I've never really made my own. I have no idea if anybody's thought of a Harpy AU or not - in which case, I'm incredibly sorry if there already has been one in the past. I wish I could draw these out... Anyway, have at it.

General

- Like traditional harpies, they have the talons of a bird on both their feet and hands, feathers growing along their arms right up to their wrists, and long tails for balance and aerial maneuvering. When crossing their arms, their wings resemble a feathery shawl. Peeking closely at their hair reveals tiny feathers that are scattered throughout, and their chests have soft tufts of fluffy down feathers.

- The sextuplets have large wingspans that complement their human-like size. They can remain aloft for a good hour until they become exhausted from physical exertion due to tiresome flapping. Evolution has made them more land locked than their ancestors. Gliding between trees is their favored method of travel. Their talons are powerful enough to propel themselves off the ground and grasp onto surfaces securely.

- Living near a human village has made the brothers partially reliant on them for their needs: tools, clothes, books, and advanced contraptions are prime examples of what separates them from others of their kind. Harpyfolk and humans live together peacefully but some choose to avoid harpies as a show of respect, believing that they are heavenly envoys of the goddess they worship.

- The Matsuno family live in a small, self sustained network of branching tree cabins that connect through tightly woven vine bridges. Its location is near the base of a calming waterfall, their source of clean drinking water and bountiful food. Matsuyo and Matsuzo share a cabin, while their sons each have one to call their own.

Osomatsu (Scarlet Macaw)

- Among his brothers, Osomatsu’s colors radiate splendidly through the thick vegetation of the woods. He preens himself regularly when alone and doesn’t seem to mind losing his feathers while doing boisterous activities. He is the absolute worst when pin feathers grow back in their place, the itchiness causing him to complain until a much needed bath soothes him.

- His favorite fruit to eat are pomegranates. He stockpiles them in his hut and cuts them open to place its seeds in his trusted, handmade leaf satchel that his mother made for him. Oso enjoys lazing about by the grass carpeted rock cliffs in the village, snacking on pomegranate while watching the clouds drift by in tranquility.

- Oso loves showing off his aerial acrobatics and challenges his younger brothers to friendly competitions. He has a lot of endurance, yet his eagerness stifles his ability to think ahead and leaves his navigational skills disarranged.

- A particular hobby of his is searching for old relics relating to his species that are scattered about in the lands his family reside in. Anything he doesn’t deem interesting, he sells them to the village for quick money. His treasured possession is an old compass that perpetually points to the sky. Choromatsu believes that it could lead them to another harpy civilization – one whose roots have survived the sands of time, living within the far reaches of the stratosphere.

Karamatsu (Black-throated Magpie-Jay)

- No one matches his expertise on preening. Much of his free time is spent making his wings perfect beyond reason, and his hair well groomed. He sports an impressive black crest on his head that flares up when he is surprised or when he attempts to provoke awe and adoration from humans.

- Karamatsu is enthralled by stringed musical instruments and has taught himself how to play them as a young hatchling. He has a natural singing voice that he revels in sharing with anyone who is willing to listen. He often allows Jyushimatsu to tag along with him to sing duets to generous villagers with heavy wallets and they have become marginally famous for their performances.

- The best at the culinary arts in his family next to his mother, he has a collection of recipe books written by both harpies and humans that he can skim through when he’s chosen as the designated cook for the evening.

- His silhouette when soaring is said to be breathtaking, his long tail trailing behind him like fluttering silk ribbons and his wings as delicate as an ornamental paper kite. Karamatsu takes advantage of these free flight sessions to gain unending inspiration for his songs.

Choromatsu (Indian Ringneck)

- Choromatsu’s behavior is described as the most “human” of the sextuplets. He prefers traversing on terra firma rather than taking to the skies. An accident involving a massive rockslide has left him terrified of potential falls when flying, where he was severely injured for weeks. This fear has caused him to never rely on his wings. His brothers collectively strive to coax him into using them once again, but Choro is stubbornly set in his ways.

- Writes a personal encyclopedia that laboriously analyzes the fauna, flora, environment, and weather patterns of the region. He’s studious in his research and often arranges expeditions with Osomatsu as his own spirited lookout.

- His eyes are a subject of discussion among his brothers. Like an Indian Ringneck, his pupils pine when he speaks animatedly about his various interests. It unnerves Todomatsu considerably and the others will try to set him up into getting Choro excited just to entertain themselves with the youngest’s overreactions.

- He volunteers at the library to peruse the countless aisles of books that seem to call his name. When no one is looking, he flips through their pages for any insightful information and jots down the titles for future reference. He’s been caught slacking off with his nose pressed to a page of a juicy erotic novel that he couldn’t put down.

Ichimatsu (Violet-backed Starling)

- Ichimatsu’s feathers have an iridescent sheen that is uncommon in harpies and desired by humans for their natural elegance suitable for those of high class standing. Unfortunately, his lack of care leaves them frayed at the ends, giving him a more gloomy appearance that contrasts with his stunning hues. He is understandably shy around humans and will avoid contact unless someone has gained his hard earned trust.

- He patrols the forest in search of sick or injured animals, a task that he has designated for himself. Ichi carries medical supplies and bottled water at all times for such occasions. The black footed cats that make their rounds around the Matsuno's residence were all cared for by Ichimatsu and have remained fiercely loyal to him.

- Ichi was the last to learn how to fly but with Osomatsu's patience and guidance, he can take flight relatively well, but with some minor issues. He tires instantly and requires frequent breaks in between trips to and fro from the village and his home.

- Files down his claws so as to not hurt others. He's also worried about them accidentally getting lodged into branches or floorboards. They grow at an exponentially quick rate that is hard for him to keep up with.

Jyushimatsu (Lutino Cockatiel)

- Mimicry is his talent as a harpy, achieving perfect pitch and replicating different sounds from simply hearing them. He whistles short calls that serve as vital communication signals, from which he has shared and taught to his brothers.

- Jyushi adores taking vitalizing baths in the waterfall basin every morning to help stimulate his joints and muscles before engaging in his daily strenuous exercise regimens. He drags Ichimatsu outside of his cozy nest and will set him down onto the water, splashing considerable amounts of it on top of him while Ichi idles by groggily, uncaring and soaked from head to toe.

- The village children admire Jyushimatsu immensely and will not hesitate to flock to him the moment he is in sight. He will indulge in their favorite games and give them rides around the village's perimeter if given permission from their watchful parents.

- His upper body strength is rather impressive for someone of his kind. Because of this, he's capable of carrying heavy items while flying for extended periods of time. He lends a talon to anyone who might need help in deliveries, and always receives rewards for his efforts.  Money, food, and homemade gifts are just some of the many offerings he brings home.

Todomatsu (Galah Cockatoo)

- Totty has an abnormal fascination with humans and wishes he could be one, downplaying his bird charateristics unless it serves a distinct purpose. Loathes being considered a "superior species" on account of the distance it creates between himself and those he recognizes as plausible friends. He is extremely fond of lavishing, positive compliments on his fluffy, cotton soft feathers from which he pretends are simply fancy accessories rather than a part of what he is.

- A giant Magnolia tree stretches its deep roots right outside the village, overlooking the gargantuan mountains in the boundary surrounding the steep cliffsides. Its caretaker is Todomatsu, who tends to the soil and pours fresh water on a day to day basis. There is a wooden bench built with Karamatsu's help that Todomatsu requested to improve his scenic getaway spot.

- He's afraid of wandering through the forest by his lonesome and always calls on his older brothers for assurance. Outright refuses to leave his cabin at nighttime unless it's an important or urgent matter.

- The galah cockatoo harpy loves perusing the village's clothing stores and periodically suggests designs to the local couturiers that he commissions handsomely out of his own pockets. Boasts the biggest wardrobe and proudly displays his custom fashion to his acquaintances - he's single handedly made businesses skyrocket in earnings.

[tattooednursewrites]

Yep, Sure Am Speechless - Ch 24

Elizabeth (OFC) returns to her place as healer on the Avengers team after taking time off after her mom is diagnosed with cancer. In her absence, the Avengers have gained some new members, including Bucky Barnes. Heart eyes and flirtation abound.

Masterlist

Ch 24

I leaned back in my seat with a groan. “Holy shit, Bucky. That was… absolutely fucking amazing. Seriously. You outdid yourself,” I said, my lips twitching when he blushed.

“Elle is right, Barnes. This was the best meal I’ve had in a while,” Natasha added, taking a sip of her wine.

“Yes, truly. Thank you so much for sharing it with us,” Wanda murmured, glancing at Pietro, who mumbled his thanks through a mouthful of food.

Steve was watching Bucky with a small smile. “Don’t know how you did it, but you got the recipes just right. Smelled like home when I came in, and tasting it? I coulda sworn I was at your ma’s table. Truly.”

I smiled at Steve before turning my attention back to Bucky, who was still blushing, staring at his empty plate. “Glad you all enjoyed it,” he said, glancing around the table before his eyes found mine. “Feelin’ better? Did you get enough to eat?”

I grinned at him. “Much better, thank you. And I don’t know if I could eat another bite, as much as I want to. I feel a food coma coming on.”

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” Bucky said softly, eyes not leaving mine as he smirked.

“Why don’t you head up? I can take care of clean up,” Natasha broke in, her voice not quite masking her amusement.

Pietro stood, carrying his plate to the kitchen. “I have a… an appointment. I promise to help with cleaning next time. See you tomorrow.”

Wanda watched Pietro leave with her mouth hanging open. “I cannot believe he left. Him and his ‘appointments’. I will help you clean up, Natalia.”

“It’s okay, Wanda,” Nat said, chuckling softly. “Besides, I think Vision wanted you to stop in and see him.”

“Oh… well. If you are sure?” Wanda replied, distracted.

Nat nodded. “Go, really.”

Wanda said her goodnights before heading for the elevator. I watched her leave, then turned to Nat, suspicious. “I don’t mind helping you clean up, Nat. Really.”

“I’ve got it, Elle. Really. You and Barnes should go on up.”

I looked to Bucky, who shrugged. Okay. “Well, night y’all,” I said, Bucky helping me up. I felt his hand move to the small of my back to guide me. “See you in the morning. I’ll make coffee.”

Nat gave me a small smile. “I know you will.”

I shook my head, smiling. “You coming up, Steve?”

“You guys go on up. I’ve got a few things to take care of. I’ll see you bright and early for training.”

My smile fell when he said ‘early’. “How early, Steve?”

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. “Six,” he said, and seeing me start to argue, he added “thirty.”

I sighed. Before I had a chance to reply, Bucky was agreeing to the obscenely early start time. Great. We said goodnight again before heading to the elevator. I noticed Steve and Nat watching us go, before Bucky distracted me, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head.

*********

Steve turned to Nat after watching Bucky pull Ella onto the elevator. “Okay. Spill.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she drawled, as she began clearing the table.

“Seriously? I know you better that that, Natasha. For one, you never volunteer for clean-up. What’s going on?”

“I’m just being nice, Rogers. It isn’t that unusual,” she replied, turning toward him. He crossed his arms, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And… I need some distraction, okay?”

Steve hesitated, watching Nat’s shoulders draw in further, her frame tense. “Okay, I’ll let it go. But I’m here, okay?”

Natasha nodded, turning back to the counter and arranging the dishes. As Steve turned to finish clearing the table he caught her mumbled “Thank you.”

*********

“So, Tony mentioned something while you were gone,” Bucky broke into my thoughts. My cheek was on his shoulder as his fingers drew lazy patterns on my side. We were recovering from round two, which I thought should totally get us out of early morning training. I mean, cardio is cardio.

“What’s that?”

“Well… I didn’t realize your birthday was coming up…”

“I guess so, yeah. I’m not really big on birthdays. My mom and I usually did something small… cake and a chick flick… and now…”

Bucky gave me a squeeze. “Well, you know Tony… is Tony. He’s planning a big, fancy – meaning over the top, surprise party,” Bucky muttered, pulling you close when he felt you tense. “He’ll probably try and kick my ass for letting you in on his surprise, but I wanted to give you the choice. He plans on having me get you all decked out under the guise of going out to dinner. If you want we can bail on the party and just do dinner… or do anything you want really.”

I took a breath, hoping I wouldn’t regret what I was about to say. “No, it’s okay. I’m not a huge fan of parties – especially fancy ones, but it might be nice. Being on your arm and showing you off. Maybe I can even convince you to dance with me?”

“Anything you want, doll. Seriously. You want a party? I’ll dress up and be your arm candy… although that seems a bit backwards,” his lips quirked. “You get bored, or overwhelmed, we’ll leave. And it’d be my pleasure to dance with you.”

I grinned, tucking my face into his chest. “Thank you, James.”

*********

I stood in front of the mirror, spinning back and forth. “I don’t know Nat. It’s… tight. Like, hard to move in tight.”

“Kind of the point, Elle. It’s hot. But if you’re not comfortable in it let me unzip you and you can try the next one.”

I turned, feeling Nat lower the zipper. “Sorry, Nat I know I’m being picky. You only had to try on three dresses… all of which rocked… to decide what you wanted to wear. What’s this now, eight?”

“Thirteen. But who’s counting?”

I laughed. I had let Natasha know that Bucky told me about the party. She was proud of him, and promised that she would’ve told me if he hadn’t. She had chosen a deep green dress. It was embroidered, sequined, and form fitting - with a high slit and almost vine-like neckline. It was gorgeous, and she looked phenomenal in it.

After four more not quite right dresses I was ready to give up. I was pulling on my sundress when Natasha came in with another dress.

“One more, Elle. Just try one more.”

“I can’t wear that, Nat! It would be impossible to wear a bra! Not all of us have your gravity defying ta-tas you know.”

“Just put it on. For me.”

I sighed. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I closed the door, pulling my dress over my head. I slipped into it, able to zip the side zipper without help. Holy shit. Well fuck. Now I was going to have to deal with gloating Nat.

The dress was amazing. It was floor length, and the fabric was thick, but moveable. It was a blue so dark that it looked black until the light hit it. The bodice was form fitting until the hips, with a full skirt that flared to the floor. There was a slit up to the hip, but the way the skirt was made the fabric was overlapped at the waist, so you only got hints of leg when I moved. The neckline was a v that gave more than a hint at cleavage, but still left a lot to the imagination. So, the front was awesome, but not really revealing. Then I turned. It was backless, with the exception of a few inch-thick strips that crisscrossed, leaving almost all of my back exposed to just before the swell of my ass. Somehow the thick fabric and cut of the dress managed to fight gravity and keep my breasts up and out, enhancing the cleavage. And the best part? It had pockets!

“Holy shit, Nat! I’m in love! And it has pockets!!”

Natasha laughed. “Well, let’s see it.”

I came out, striking a pose with my knee pressing the slit open a bit, hands in pockets. Nat grinned. “You look stunning, Elizabeth. Really. Barnes is going to… well, just make sure he doesn’t hurt the dress when he rips it off of you.”

I felt the blush heat my cheeks and chest. “Yeah. Good plan.”

“Okay, now we just need shoes.”

I changed, putting the dress carefully back on the hanger before following Natasha to the shoes section. She immediately found a pair of dark gray wrap heels that fit perfectly. I, on the other hand, hated heels. I was having trouble finding a pair that I wouldn’t end up taking off in the first hour just for the sake of comfort. Maybe if I painted my toenails to match my dress no one would notice? Nat keeps having to try and drag me away from the boots. I picked up a pair of black slip on boots and she lost her patience.

“Comfort isn’t everything, Elle. You can tolerate heels for one night, right?”

“I’m just going to try them on. They’re pretty.”

“They don’t even have a heel. They are in no way meant to be formal.”

“I know, aren’t they perfect?”

Nat glared at me, hoping I would crack. When I didn’t she rolled her eyes at me. “Fine. I’m hungry. Lunch?”

*********

“It isn’t too…dark? I know I tend toward dark colors and black, if my closet is any indication,” Bucky confirmed, turning back and forth in front of the mirror. The suit itself was an almost shiny black. The shirt was a dark blue, that was only noticeably blue because it was next to the black of the jacket and tie. Steve had talked him into suspenders.

Steve shook his head at me. “It looks great, Buck. Ella’ll love it. You sure you don’t want to get some dress shoes?”

“I’ll just shine my boots. Let me keep a little comfort, yeah?”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve sighed. He checked his phone. “Nat’s asking if we want to meet them for lunch. Ella is apparently demanding tacos as a treat for making it through shopping.”

Bucky grinned. That’s his girl. “Tacos sound perfect. Let’s get out of here.”

*********

Steve saw the exact moment Ella noticed them. She ran at them, launching herself at Bucky, who caught her with a grin, burying his face in her neck and letting her momentum spin them around before setting her on her feet, but keeping hold of her. Natasha stalked over, her eyes on the couple, a smirk curving her lips.

“Hey,” he greeted, still being ignored by Ella and Bucky.

“Hey yourself, Rogers,” Nat snarked, bumping her shoulder against his. “Think they’ll remember that we were getting tacos anytime soon?”

Ella twisted in Bucky’s hold. “Tacos? Yes please.”

He caught Nat’s eye and smirked. She returned it before looking down with a blush. Wait, what? He didn’t realize he was still standing there staring at where Nat had been until she called from the door, Bucky and Ella already making their way inside. “Coming, Rogers?”

“Yeah, yeah… coming…”

*********

“So, did you happen to notice…”

Bucky was brushing his teeth and paused to meet my eyes in the mirror.

“There seems to be… something. Between Steve and Natasha. I’ve noticed it before, but now it seems… more intense?”

Bucky tilted his head at me, eyes narrowing, before leaning over the sink to spit. “What is or isn’t there is not our business, Ella. We shouldn’t meddle.”

“But they would be…”

“Yes, it would be great, but that’s for them to figure out. And I thought you said Nat and Bruce,” Bucky circled his toothbrush at me before rinsing it and reaching for the mouthwash.

“Yeah, but Bruce left. And I don’t think he’s coming back, Bucky. I love him and all, but Natasha deserves some happy,” I cut my eyes to him, leaning against the counter. “Just, think about it? Please?” I said, giving him puppy eyes. “Crap, I need to go wash my face and brush my teeth and all. I’ll be back in a few.”

“You know, you could always bring some stuff over here from your room. I know it’s not far, but I want you in my bed, and having some of your stuff here would be more convenient,” Bucky seemed to study me for a reaction.

“Well, you do have a double sink and all, but I don’t want to be in the way,” I said, pretending to consider it while fighting a smile.

“Alright you little shit, go get your stuff. I’m ready to get you into bed,” Bucky grinned, smacking me on the ass.

“Yes, sir,” I laughed, strutting out of the bathroom with a wink.