#about to relive my farm dream yet again

[ncutii-gatwa]

i’m sorry but the old emma can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh cause stardew valley has an update

[jreed3842]

Guys!! Check it out!! Excited to show off the next character in my D&D Characters inspired by Disney Princesses! Introducing Memphis! He will be a Leonin Order of the Scribes Wizard! Art done by the always incredible @/cniska. (Backstory and more art in the after "Read More")

Memphis is from a little town, a quiet village. Every day like the one before? Why, yes. Because unfortunately his village is fated to be destroyed by some catastrophic disaster. In a desperate plea to save themselves, the villagers called out for help.

Their prayers were heard and answers by ... someone. A Goddess? A Powerful Enchantress? Whoever it was, the only way she could think to save them was to trap the town in a protective bubble that would have them relive the same day over and over again.

Memphis goes into town every day, exchanges a book, and is proposed to by Cordelia Thorne. She is the best hunter in the village. Popular with the village, and incredibly wealthy. Memphis is the outcast in his village. More interested in reading, and day dreaming of adventure...

But he is the most beautiful man in the village. It's no wonder that his name means beauty. His looks have got no parallel. As such, Cordelia sees him as a prize. She's so full of herself, she never excepts Memphis to say no her marriage proposal.

And she's right... Memphis doesn't say no. This isn't what he wants. He wants much more than this provincial life. But it's just him and his mom. After his father passed away, Memphis works as hard as he can to keep the farm going for him and his mom...

Marrying Cordelia would mean him and his family would be well off and his mother would never have to worry about a thing. He talks to his mom, and she tells him to follow his heart no matter what that means. After thinking on it ... he decides. Yes. He will marry Cordelia.

Cordelia, already expecting this outcome, has a huge feast prepared that the entire town attends to celebrate her marriage to Memphis. At the end of the dinner, the disaster strikes.... Time reverses... The day is relived again... and again... and again...

Now one day, after God knows how long, trapped in an endless time loop, Memphis goes into town. Exchanges his book like normal, but one book in particular calls out to him. A book about adventure, far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells...

He takes this book and is filled with a sense of power. Then the day proceeds as normal. Cordelia proposes. Memphis goes to his mom, and she tells him to follow his heart. He decides. No... He can't do this.... He runs out to the outskirts of town and sits and reflects...

As he sits down, the seeds from a nearby dandelion drift in the wind, he sees a strange ripple of magical energy reflecting in the air. As he investigates, he pushes through... He exits the influence of the Goddesses' magic. He escapes the time loop.

He turns around. His village is gone. Destroyed by whatever cataclysmic event originally destroyed them. Years... maybe even thousands of years have passed. The area is nothing but a crater, now covered by a pasture of grass. Everyone he has known is gone. And he cannot go back.

With no other choice to move on, Memphis travels to a nearby city. Vastly different than his small town. And yet he still doesn't fit in here either. People laugh at his accent. They don't expect a man of his stature to be studious and into casting spells.

One night, alone in his room, Memphis discovers the book that traveled with him out of the time loop is actually a spell book left behind by the Goddess savior. Memphis teaches himself magic from this spell book. And even accidentally summons a familiar! A sentient pocket watch!

Now determined to find his way back home, and to his mom. Memphis seeks to understand the magics of time control. Maybe, just maybe, he can return and rescue his village.

And that's the backstory! :D And now here is some additional art, also done by @/cniska! First is Miss Cordelia Thorne. Boorish, Brainless. The biggest bitch in town, and everyone loves her.

And here is Memphis' mother! Margaret (named after my own grandmother hehe) She is kind of the village crazy lady. I like to think she smokes pot. Hah. But she always speaks from the heart and is wise beyond her years.

It might be quite awhile before I can get around to playing Memphis, but very excited to have the art work completed! Can't wait to get around to playing him! Any guesses which Disney Princess he is inspired by? ;) (I told the artists I needed Memphis to be DROP DEAD Sexy. Mission accomplished cause here are some live Testimonials!) "Shit Girl. He's sexy as hell!" - Devery- "I want him to choke me." - My favorite coworker, Celina-

"Why does his hair look like mine?" -Warren-

[khfankeri]

Excerpt from Chapter 9 of A Bond Greater Than Family (A Plague Tale)

Credit to @pinkprincess717-blog1 for the pic! <3

From Chapter 9 - Short Interlude

They lay there for several minutes as Amicia started breathing normally again. She looked at Lucas who held her, and it hit her then that she had never asked Lucas about his dream in the nebula. She had been too caught up in her own grief to even think about it.

"Lucas... what happened while you were in the nebula cloud?"

He stopped stroking her back and looked away. Oh, so it was bad... but she felt she had to press. She had to know. "Please tell me."

Turning back to her, she couldn't read his eyes. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

She gulped and nodded.

He sighed. "Very well."

***************************

Lucas woke up in the the dense cloud of the nebula aching all over. "That was quite a fall..."

He looked around. "Amicia?"

She was nowhere near him in the rubble of a destroyed city. "Okay, just breathe. Remember all natural laws end here. Just keep moving forward. We have to try and save Hugo." If they could at least...

He kept moving and eventually came upon a destroyed farm. It was his old master Laurentius' farm! What was it doing here?? The farm was ablaze and he could hear screaming. He stopped his ears up, reliving the moment he had seen his master die.

"Let go of the past, Lucas. It's not needed here."

"Hugo?? Is that you??" Lucas asked looking wildly around him. No one was there though.

"Yes, it's me. Come on, you have to keep moving."

Lucas fought the gigantic urge to run into the burning building. He had to keep going. He pushed himself past the burning house towards the field they had ran through to escape the rats, walking haltingly to the windmill at the other end of the farm. It was set ablaze as it had been before.

He stopped when he saw Beatrice de Rune tied to the windmill. The Count's wife, Emilie, was holding a knife up to her neck. No he had to stop her!!

"Let go, Lucas. You have to keep going."

"But... she's my teacher..."

He watched as the count's wife slit her throat again. This was too much. It was too painful. He felt the tears threatening again. He had managed to hide them from Amicia earlier, but he couldn't do it now. Losing another teacher was too much. Keep walking. Keep going.

He pushed past with tears starting to come down his eyes. Wiping them stubbornly away, he kept going. Let go of the past. Keep marching forward.

He wasn't prepared for what happened next though.

Lucas was back in the towns and villages he and Amicia had traveled through over the last year. So many rats and guards. Amicia was calling to him from one of the gates. He had found her thank the Lord!

"Amicia!"

But he stopped. It wasn't her. Or, at least it wasn't the current Amicia. She looked like how she looked when they first met. Not as experienced and  much more scared. Younger. More innocent. He knew this was a dream, but she looked so real. Still so beautiful.

She went ahead into the gate and he tried to scream and tell her to stop, there were too many rats! "No, Amicia!! Stop!!"

She cried out in agony as she was eaten alive. His heart dropped.

Suddenly she was back at the gate beckoning for him to follow. There were some ingredients nearby. Perhaps he could save her?? He ran towards her, but Hugo appeared, grabbing his hand holding him back surprising Lucas. "Hugo?"

Hugo shook his head. "Let her go. You can't do anything. You have to keep moving forward. What was done in the past can no longer be done here."

"But she's dying! I can't... I can't lose her too... it's more than I can bare."

Lucas wanted to stop up his ears as he heard Amicia cry out yet again.

Hugo shook his head.

"Please, Hugo. I can't stand here and do nothing. It hurts..." he slumped down onto his knees, holding onto Hugo's hand as Amicia screamed out again.

Hugo hugged him then, causing everything around them to disappear. Amicia's screams disappearing with it. Lucas breathed a sigh of relief.

"You really love her don't you?"

He looked up at Hugo then, tears threatening to come down his face yet again. "More than you know."

Hugo smiled then looking much older and wiser than his five years. "Good. I need you to take care of her. I've... I've asked her to do something really terrible... and she can't do it alone."

A terrible feeling hit the pit of his stomach. "You've asked her to kill you haven't you?"

Hugo nodded. "Although, I think you knew deep down that was the only option left. Amicia... is still accepting it. And I'm not sure if she can. She may need... help."

Lucas gritted his teeth. "What... can I do?"

"Be with her. And if she can't do it..." Hugo pulled out a crossbow holding it out to him. "I need you to do it for her."

Lucas took the crossbow, hands shaking. "But... she'd never forgive me..."

Hugo looked at him with understanding in his eyes. "Yes, I'm sorry. But it's the only other option I have. I can't... I can't let innocent people die anymore."

Lucas gulped as he looked at the little boy who just wanted to live happily with his sister and family. "I understand, Hugo. I'm sorry I couldn't save you..."

Hugo hugged him again taking Lucas off guard. "You did all you could. You and Amicia are my family, and I need you to keep living. Can you do it?"

Lucas nodded against the young boy's shoulder, unable to speak.

"Good. Now go save my sister. I'm counting on you."

Lucas was suddenly out in an open area still holding the crossbow. He looked down at it and quickly put it on his back. No time to think, he had to find Amicia. There was a tree ahead of him. Oh, it was Hugo... He looked like he was in pain even from many yards away. He gritted his teeth. "I'll keep my promise, Hugo."

He stumbled around for a moment getting his bearings. Then he saw her. Gently, he called out to her as she gazed off into the distance as if she was still dreaming.

He bent down in front of her. Taking her in his arms, he held her tightly.

Her eyes started to clear. "Lucas?" Her voice broke.

Fighting tears, he held her close. "I'm here. I'm here."

*****************************

Amicia didn't have to hear the rest. She hugged him tightly crying freely. Feeling wet tears on her shirt, she knew he was crying quietly too. "My brave alchemist. Thank you. I truly couldn't have done it without you. I love you."

They stayed like that for several more minutes. Finally pulling apart, Amicia stroked back his hair memorizing every little feature to his face. For Lucas to cry meant a lot. He was the most stable person she had ever met. She kissed him and pulled him in once again, Amicia holding his head in her arms. It was her turn to comfort.

Eventually they both fell asleep too exhausted to even say another word.

Read more here! :)

[darsynia]

From your WIPs, please tell me about the one with such an intriguing title: Climbing Vines on Melancholy Walls

(and if that one doesn't involve My Beloved Stephen, please throw in a title that does as well😉)

I'll start with the Stephen one, just for you-- it's the one titled 'Dreamcatcher,' and it's only a concept, nothing is written for it yet. The idea is based on the dream worldbuilding from DS2, the idea that when you dream you are actually seeing an alternate universe, not random made-up stuff in your own head.

The OC in that story can lucid dream-- direct her dreams to see what she wants to see. Stephen finds out about it, and he wants to know if she's 'universe-surfing' or actually able to influence what she's seeing, as in, can she alter a universe just by dreaming? I loved the idea that the OC and Stephen can have an odd sort of shared experience in reliving things, and I envisioned some sort of final conflict where they needed to save someone and there was a question of whether or not he would still be around when she woke back up.

I don't know if I'll pick that one up, though-- I love the idea, but I don't have a solid theming framework for it like I usually like to, before I start something.

Climbing Vines on Melancholy Walls is a Steve/Natasha angst story set during Endgame. I liked the idea that they both cherished a fondness, maybe even love for each other, but never said anything. Then, as everything fell to hell around them, they agree to a friends with benefits situation, neither realizing that the other is just as dizzy in love as they are.

I intend to address Vormir in this story, and went through a really dark place (was frighteningly close to being gone) during 2022, so I put it on hiatus until I can tackle those scenes with a clear mind.

However, I'm intensely proud of the story. It is as much a 'how did Nat never find Clint in all those intervening years' story as it is a romance between her and Steve. My answer? She found him multiple times. He kept asking her to let him go and look again. The story starts with Nat visiting the farm and finding that Clint gathered up all the dirt he could to preserve it in case he needed the dust of his family to bring them back. Each time Clint sends her away, she dutifully tracks him down again. That's how she could find him when it mattered. She knew where he was. She was just holding off, like he asked her to.

As present in the story as angst is, there's a lot of sweetness and humor, too. They're teammates, they're real with each other, and at some point they're going to realize that it's okay to be loved back.

They agree to be friends with benefits at Tony and Pepper's wedding, but afterwards, both of them are too shy to broach the subject again. Things get tense, and Natasha decides to tease Steve about what he's doing instead of coming and knocking on her door at the Avengers Compound. Here's the playful, sexy chunk of story when they make the momentous decision to do it again.

“Running off some aggression, there, Rogers?” Nat asks him, when he sits down with his food.

Steve scratches his neck, looking bashful. “Yeah, a little. My body’s been moving faster than my mind. Trying to wear it out, I guess.”

“Running seems like the least fun way to do that, if you ask me,” she remarks, offering him a challenging smile.

“Well! Not sure I wanted to move faster than you are, either, truth be told,” he says after looking at her speculatively for a while.

“Steve, we’re alone here. The point was to be comforting, to blow off steam, to make the shitty parts of existence better, wasn’t it?” Privately, Natasha’s flooded with unexpected affirmation. If she’s reading him right, Steve’s basically telling her that he wants her, but thinks he doesn’t have the right to come right out and ask. There’s no way she would have ever predicted that, but she’s not complaining.

“Those are very good points,” Steve says carefully.

“So knock on my door sometimes, god,” she teases. “It’s going to be a slow few weeks, I could go make you an engraved invitation, if that would make things easier.” Nat looks down at her plate after catching the keen interest in his eyes. She doesn’t want him to be able to correctly recognize the desperate adoration that’s probably blazing in hers. 

“Thank you, I will,” he tells her. His four words are resonant, grateful, and obviously sexually charged. Natasha’s drinking when he says it, and her sip of fruit juice goes down the wrong way.

“Turn around, this is not sexy!” she flaps her hands at him as she chokes the words out. Natasha alternately coughs and wipes her eyes, adding, “And don’t you dare take it back or I’ll never forgive you!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” he mutters, but he turns his head and uses his hand to block his view of her while she’s in the last throes of persuading her body she’s not actually in danger of drowning.

Nat doesn’t know whether she wants to address that quietly expressed concern of his now or once she can immediately follow up with something more physically resonant. She decides to choose the latter option; Steve has every right to worry that embarking on a career (whether long or short) of sexual exploits together might cause some trouble between them. Since her very real former career had involved no small number of encounters between herself and people who had trusted her only to find that she was there to do them harm, she recognizes the validity of that worry. The best way to reassure him is to be consistently generous and willing, and she’s happy to be both.

Both of them fall silent. Natasha’s fork feels wooden in her hand, the food bland and unnecessary. Part of the problem is that she’d been building up her anticipation about time with Steve, intimate time with Steve, while at the same time working on her defenses to prevent him recognizing her feelings. Nat’s been basically feeding herself a diet of calming, bland mental food, and now that dietary restriction has been lifted.

“Not hungry?” he asks her, lifting his eyebrows. It had been his turn to cook.

“Not for-- not really,” she amends, but the damage has been done.

Steve sets his fork down and looks at her, really looks. Natasha’s suddenly aware that she’s been dressing and grooming herself at the facility like it’s a reconnaissance mission, with comfortable clothes, minimal makeup. Not like she is on display, not like she has someone to impress. Sure, her outfits are tight-fitting and attractive, and sure, she knows how to make a lot out of a small amount of cosmetics, but it hasn’t been in service of anything. Still, Steve’s gaze is approving, just on the edge of captivated. For his part, he’s been sweaty and exhausted nearly every time she’s seen him lately, and that’s just been fuel for a mental image she has genuine, participatory memories she can flesh it out with.

With an expression that’s determined but otherwise neutral, Steve stands up and gathers his half-empty plate. He walks around the table and reaches out a hand. Bemused, Natasha hands him her own mostly full plate and watches him walk them into the kitchen. She hears Steve scrape the remaining food into the disposal, running the water to help grind it down and presumably rinse the plates off. The sound of the dishwasher door opening is recognizable.

She has no idea what he’s planning to do, and given her particular skill set, that fact is equal parts worrisome and novel.

Steve walks back into the dining room, coming straight over to the opposite end of the table, the one that’s closer to the exit. He leans over, resting one palm flat on the table’s surface, looking her straight in the eyes. He’s focused, with the same demeanor he uses when he’s about to lead them all into battle.

Then he stretches his fisted other hand out and knocks on the table, with the same cadence he always uses to request entry.

“Yes,” she says, her breath caught in her throat for a second, more pleasant time that day.

“Where?” he asks. It’s-- it’s still his command voice, and she never ever would have guessed he’d do this, blur the lines like this, and it’s the worst and best idea ever.

Thank you so much for asking! I really did hold off on writing Stephen in favor of writing oh my god like 500k words of Tony Stark fic, so you've caught me at the very start of my Stephen journey! It's a blessing and a curse ;)

[aurathian]

Life in a Dead World

My submission for @zelinkweek2021 day 5, prompt Domesticity: Family.

read it here on AO3!

When she gazes at the castle for the first time in one hundred years, when she takes her first good look at it in forever, she sees nothing but despair. Loss. She sees nothing but memories she once held dear, long dead and buried under the rubble. She sees nothing.

He is her guiding hand through this new, foreign world in which she is blind. The way he takes her hand ever so gently and leads her across the stepping stones of the future is comforting, but her steps are uneasy still.

“Zel,” someone calls. “Wake up.” A gentle shake rumbles her shoulder and she turns over to face the voice.

“I’m up,” she manages to say, though hoarsely, and wrenches her eyes open to meet Link’s face. He swipes a finger across her forehead, brushing back stray strands of her sunshine hair. Taking his time studying her face, his blue eyes dart around before settling on her lips. He places a chaste kiss upon them.

Most mornings spent in their house in Hateno Village were like this. She’d be woken up by him saying her name softly, like it’s a prayer, and he’d kiss her before rolling out of bed. He’d make them breakfast, something simple like eggs and rice, and then he would head out to the fields for work. She’d stay curled up inside, reading books on their bed and tinkering with whatever ancient scraps Link found on his adventures.

Zelda doesn’t really like the mornings. The sun rises and casts its bright rays on everything ugly in the world and the daytime forces her to face it. She remembers her last sunrise before the Calamity, though the memory is blurry and faded now. It was a quiet morning when she was sent on her way to the Spring of Wisdom to offer her final prayer to the Goddess Hylia, full of apprehension and fear—fears she fulfilled.

On this day, however, he makes pancakes topped with berries he had picked after work the day before. He serves her orange juice in one of the fancy glasses they reserve for company—though they never get visitors anyway—and sets the table nice, with placemats and flowers in the center.

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, finally lured downstairs by the sweet smells and clattering utensils. Sliding into the chair across from him, she takes up her fork and digs in.

“Nothing special,” he replies nonchalantly with a raise of his brows, but she can feel his gaze on her as he takes a sip of his own juice. Zelda is able to indulge in a few more bites of soft, buttery pancake before he speaks again.

“Will you come into town with me today?” he requests, his hand drifting across the table to gingerly grasp hers.

“That’s what the occasion is, then,” she mumbles bitterly. Her appetite is lost and she sets the fork down. “You know I can’t.”

The few times she stepped foot into Hateno Village, the few times she saw the faces of the men and women and children walking through town and living, she turned around and went back to their house on the edge of the village. Link would follow suit some time later and find her gripping the photo of them and the Champions, staining its glass cover with tears.

The village is bright and lively. He tries to make her see the good, but she is blinded by memories.

“Why not?” he prods, taking a step into where he’d never dared to go before, opening the door to her heart just a little more.

“You know why.” Her voice is shaky now. “When I look at them—when I see their faces, they… they remind me of the people I killed all those years ago.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.” His tone is the opposite of hers; certain and sure, and his foot is planted steady in the doorway now. Though his memories are few, they are vivid with color and life and they feel real each time he relives them, whether in his dreams or by traveling to the places he uncovered them in the first place.

“Killing isn’t just about who you strike with your blade, Link,” she scolds. “It’s about what you fail to do that causes their deaths.” Her hands rest now in her lap, leaving his empty and open atop the table. “In my case, I failed to awaken my power in time.”

“But they’re not the people you killed.”

“They look like ordinary citizens. People, innocent people, going about their lives. The very people affected by my incompetence.”

“But—”

“There is no reason for me to go into the village anyway.”

Link sits back in his chair. “Why?” he breathes. The door is closing and he’s fighting to keep it open now.

“Hyrule is dead,” Zelda says plainly. “It died long ago, with all those people. When I looked upon the castle, when we were traveling back here through ruin after ruin, I saw no life.”

“There’s life right outside our house,” he counters.

“We have experienced two different kingdoms, Link.” She stands from her chair and wanders to the stairs, fingers lingering over the banister. “You do not remember my Hyrule. In comparison, this land is dead.” The conversation is over. She walks up the stairs without a word and he can hear her shuffle into bed. Then, it’s silent.

—

He tries again the next morning. This time, he coaxes her outside with the promise of a morning spent picking the flowers growing in their yard. It’s peaceful and they can’t hear the sounds of Hateno Village from their quaint house across the bridge, and he watches her face as she plucks the white flowers from the ground. Her eyes are lidded and mouth curved into a small smile.

He wishes he could show those grass green eyes the beauty of the Hyrule he knows, from its snowy mountaintops to its humid jungles; wishes she could meet the people who helped him along his journey, the people he considers Champions of this new age.

When he’s accrued plenty of flowers in his basket, he calls out to her, “Hey Zel, come here!”

She crawls over, bringing her own basket alongside her. “What?”

“What do you want to do with all these flowers?”

She hums, then says, “I don’t know.” Pulling one out of her basket, she twirls it around by the stem.

“I was thinking we could go into the village and give them to the children,” he offers, standing up and holding out his hand.

“Is that what this was all about?”

“Well…”

She scowls, taking her basket and marching toward the house. He winces as the front door slams shut behind her.

Link, however, is persistent, and if he has anything, it’s the audacity. Every day he tries something new to get her to go into the village with him—getting water from the river, buying a new dress, even visiting Purah at the lab—but each attempt is turned down by her.

“I can do my own research right here from my bed,” she argues when he suggests visiting Purah. Never in his lifetime did he think he would witness Princess Zelda of Hyrule, ancient Sheikah tech extraordinaire and science nerd, turn down an opportunity to go study at a laboratory.

Then, one day, something strange happens. He leaves the house to go work in the fields like usual, bringing along a pitchfork and his lunch. He lets Zelda stay in the house to eat her breakfast and read her books. As he’s walking down the trail from his house, over the bridge and into the new developments that continue to creep ever closer to them, a hand grabs his sleeve.

“Zelda?” he asks when he sees her. “But I thought…”

“I don’t appreciate how often you tried to trick me,” she interjects, “but I did some thinking, and I want to try.”

He’s looking at her like she’s crazy, one eyebrow up and his mouth popped open.

“Please?” she begs.

Taking her hand into his, he nods, and together they walk into the village.

—

Zelda finds a comfortable spot on the edge of the well, legs dangling off the side and face shielded from the bright sun. She sits there, watching the children of the village run around and play, swinging at each other with sticks and throwing pebbles, while Link is off working in one of the farm fields. There are women behind the well gossiping a little loudly for her liking, but after a few hours she manages to tune them out.

One of the children approaches her grinning, missing teeth and all. Zelda’s world stops for a moment, forced to recall the faces of the children she aided in killing. She remembers running through Kakariko Village, drenched and dirty, and seeing the agonizing faces of the village youth while she desperately searched for Impa. She remembers the bodies—Goddesses, the bodies—both young and old, strewn across the cobblestone streets of Castle Town. Of all the memories she can visualize the best, it has to be that one.

“Hello, miss,” the child greets with a slight lisp.

Her world unpauses and she swallows hard, forcing herself to look into the child’s eyes. “Hello,” she replies.

“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.” There’s a booger under the child’s nose and a leaf in his hair.

“My name is Zelda.”

She’s staring at this child she’s never met before, with his big round eyes and missing teeth, and she pays special attention to the sound of his breath and the rise and fall of his chest. This child is alive, she knows, yet she can’t help but think of all the children whose blood stains her hands.

“Woah!” His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in shock. “Like the princess?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. In reality, she hates the title. It stings like a thorn even when it’s just an echo inside her head. Hearing the word forces her to recall the countless tales and rumors spread about her through the castle halls one hundred years ago, of her failures and incompetence.

“My mom has told me all sorts of stories about the princess! Like how pretty and nice she was.” Scowling, he crosses his arms. “Though my mom wasn’t alive then, so I don’t know how she knows that.”

“What are some other stories she’s told you?” Zelda raises a brow and leans in curiously. Does her memory survive on a different breath in this new Hyrule? For all intents and purposes, she doesn’t recognize herself from one hundred years ago as truly her. When people speak of the princess, they speak of a woman long dead.

“I don’t remember all of them, but she’s behind the well you’re sitting on. You could ask her.”

She glances back and winces. “Um, I think I’d rather have you tell me.” Zelda hops off the edge of the well and kneels down in front of the child. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Nebb,” he says. “Say, I don’t remember much about the princess, but I can tell you about this one guy I know.”

“Sure,” she replies, sitting on the ground next to Nebb.

“There was this traveler who came by our village a lot,” he begins, “and I asked him to show me a ton of weapons! I don’t know how he was able to find all of them, though. I think he lives in the old house outside of town.”

Zelda hums, resting her head in her hands. She thinks of Link, of the various weapons on display in their house, and there’s no doubt in her mind that she knows exactly who Nebb is talking about.

“I might know him,” she says.

“Really?” Nebb shouts. “He’s so cool, isn’t he? I’ve seen him totally demolish the Bokoblins that come too close to the village before.”

“He’s very cool,” she agrees, trailing off as a little girl approaches them. “And who is this?”

“I’m Narah!” says the little girl. “This is my brother.” She gestures to Nebb and he groans before running away to go play.

“Well, Narah, I’m Zelda.”

“I like to talk,” Narah states. “Ask me some questions!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one asking them.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh. It’s a bright and healthy laugh, one that enraptures Link as he approaches her, sweaty from a day in the field.

“Someone’s enjoying herself,” he chuckles, helping Zelda stand from the ground. Narah gets bored with the attention no longer on her and chases after her brother.

“The children are very sweet,” Zelda admits. “Apparently people share stories about me.”

“They do,” he says. “They’re nothing like the stories you heard all those years ago.”

“What do you mean?”

Her steps as they walk back to the house are more confident, and her grip on his hand is sure.

“I know how people talked about you back then, Zelda. I figured it out through my memories.” He pushes the door open for her, setting his pitchfork against the outside wall before stepping inside. “But these people… they look up to you. You’re a beacon of light to them.”

“But I didn’t do the one thing I was supposed to,” she argues. “They don’t look up to me. They look up to the princess of a century ago.”

“They know you as that princess—that princess who valiantly sacrificed herself to the Calamity to prevent it from reaching their homes. You are what kept Hyrule alive all this time.”

“I’m not a princess anymore,” she mumbles, climbing up the stairs. “It’s just Zelda now. Besides, they don’t even know I’m her. We are two different people now, Link.”

He says nothing, only steps up to the kitchen counter and rummages through the cupboard.

“What do you want for dinner?”

—

She ventures into Hateno Village with him every day now, sitting at her usual spot along the edge of the well and talking to the village children. They are healing, she finds, with their wide smiles and innocent, naive eyes. After some days, she starts playing with them, chasing them around the village and tossing balls back and forth.

She would give anything to go back in time and have the childhoods they have. To frolic in the outdoors, to have both parents, to play and wish and dream and be a child. If Zelda wasn’t so wary of the statues of the Goddess Hylia, she would pray at them once more, pray for a real childhood.

One day, she finally talks to the mothers behind the well. Or, rather, they talk to her.

“Miss,” one of them prods, “why do you come watch our children everyday?”

“Oh, um.” Zelda fiddles with her fingers. “They’re very sweet.”

The women exchange strange glances. “You’re not trying to snatch up my little boy, are you?”

“No! Of course not, no,” Zelda hastily replies. “Nebb introduced himself to me. I enjoy playing with the children.”

The women still aren’t satisfied, and she can tell, so she asks, “What’s it like to be a mother?”

“Oh, it’s something, alright,” the woman with her brown hair tied up groans. “Every day is a struggle. Wake up, get ready, yes, you do have to finish all your veggies!”

Zelda smiles a little but wonders if it is really so much of a struggle to gossip behind the well every day.

“But there are times where I relish it,” the other one pipes up. “My children gave me a purpose when I had none.” A dreamy look casts itself upon her eyes. “They are my pride and joy, as difficult as they can be. My guiding lights, so to speak.”

And something clicks inside Zelda’s mind.

Link picks her up again at the well, sweaty and hot and tired as he normally is after a long day of moving hay and harvesting crops, and as they walk over the bridge to their house she stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looks over to her, frowning with concern.

“Link, I want a child,” she states, and his jaw drops.

Normally, he would try to keep her out of bed for as long as possible. That night, however, he wastes no time in helping her into it.

And so their life continues on exactly like that—days spent working or playing with the village children, rubbing her belly in the hopes she may have one too, nights spent panting in bed, kissing, hot and sweaty and intimate. They’re not strangers to making love, but they are new to doing so with a purpose.

Zelda is suspicious when she misses her period, but what solidifies her hypothesis is when she wakes up one morning with a sick feeling in her stomach before leaping out of bed and rushing outside to dispose of last night’s dinner all over the grass. Link awakens only moments later, finding her outside hunched over and gripping one of the house’s posts. He holds her hair back while she retches some more.

“Zelda…?”

She can only look back at him and smile, nearly laughing with joy, before jumping up to hug him.

“I still don’t get it,” he says while she peppers kisses all over his face.

“Link, I missed my period a while ago,” she explains, finding her footing on the grass. “And feeling sick in the morning, throwing up… do you not know what it means?”

His face contorts in thought, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His blue eyes drift off to something in the distance as he racks his brain for a possible conclusion.

Zelda whispers into the ear of her lover, “I’m pregnant.”

She can’t see his face light up because he hugs her so tight she’s struggling to breathe, but she lets it happen. Her wish, her one prayer she had ever bothered to offer to the Goddess after the defeat of the Calamity, comes true.

—

The nine months go by like a breeze, her bump growing week by week, having to stay home and rest more often because of it, but she’s happy. She spends her evenings in the rocking chair Link constructed for her, singing to her belly as she rubs it with her soft hands. Her cravings get weirder, too. One week, she’s asking for delicious fruitcake, and the next, she’s asking for soup but instead of meat, it’s monster parts.

Still, Link obliges, going out and picking (or slaying) whatever he needs to to satisfy her. Eventually, the doctor they visit in the village has to start coming to them when it becomes too backbreaking for Zelda to walk, and by some will of the Goddess, the doctor is present when she goes into labor on a rainy autumn morning.

Even as she’s pushing and screaming and grunting, Zelda thinks Hylia must be apologizing, because according to the doctor, it was one of the easiest deliveries he’s ever assisted with. He hands Zelda her baby, wailing and wriggling, small and pale, with a head of soft, thin hair, colored like Link’s. The doctor leaves them alone, lingering downstairs in case anything else needs to be done.

Link kneels by the bedside, watching as Zelda coos at the baby and pokes at her tiny hands. “What will we name her?” she asks him.

“Do you have any ideas?”

She hums, but her eyes never leave the baby. “I would like to name her Impa,” she says.

“I think that’s a great name.” His voice is a whisper now, quiet and hushed as he marvels at the sight of Zelda and their child, and for the first time in a long while, his beloved’s green eyes shine once more.

She smiles down at her baby, because even in a Hyrule she thought long dead, new life still prospers.

[chidoroki]

TPN ch181

(spoilers! AAAHHhhaha..my children!)

Okay, so remember in my last review when I said I was impressed how Ray, Gilda and Phil managed to narrow down where Emma might be in the matter of a couple months? Well, I take it back because it hasnt been just a few months, it's been two damn years! Oh my god, I can't imagine how hard it must've been for everyone, especially our two boys, to search for so long without even getting on single clue about Emma's whereabouts. Some of the children still doubt whether she's alive or actually in this world with them or not.

(image limit, so imagine the panels of the Goldy Pond kids discussing the lack of clues and Thoma and Lani doubting the reward again)

Thankfully, Gilda gets the idea to search in forbidden zones which is where we see her, Ray and Phil. Speaking of which, oh my poor boy. This is the longest Ray has been without Emma by his side. I thought the one month after Goldy Pond was hard enough on him, but two whole years? Damn, I can't imagine the stress and anxiety he's been experiencing. He's still so frustrated too and gets so close to Emma without even realizing it. Then, surprisingly, his beloved family steps in to help? The people he personally couldn't save now come together to help him save the one person who originally saved his life. Like, hello?? I love this! Conny, who was another sibling he had to use in order to put his initial escape plan in motion to save Emma and Norman's lives, is now assisting him in saving Emma from being alone. Yuugo, who knows firsthand how important Emma is to Ray and how close they are. Isabella, knowing her son kept his promise as he's always set out to do whatever it takes to protect his entire family. The fact that Ray's lost family members can feel how strong his bond with Emma is and they jump in to help reconnect the two of them again.. just, wow. It may be all the rayemma week feels getting to me but that's like a damn soulmate occurrence if i ever saw one!

The two unknowingly pass each other again but thanks to Emma conveniently losing her necklace and finding it with perfect timing, they all finally encounter each other. Everyone expresses their complete shock and relief that they had finally found Emma, and while I am happy they their search ended up a success, the mood changes fairly quickly due to our girls lost memories. She hasnt the slightest idea who "Emma" is, who these people are or why they're so excited to see her. The kids wonder if they have the right girl, as they take notice of Emma's bare neck.

One look at the necklace in her hand though and Ray finally puts the pieces together. Honestly, I'm not at all surprised he's the one to figure out the true reward, as Ray has been very perceptive since the beginning. He's also always been openly honest and blunt when things get serious, so naturally he's the one who has to let everyone know this because while it's a sad truth no one wants to hear, or even believe, they all need to realize it, including Emma. Even Ray has trouble coming to terms with the sacrifice Emma made. He understands how hard it must have been for Emma to accept the heavy price of her forgetting the family she loves so deeply and he looks so broken when he realizes that. He must be feeling so guilty that he couldn't have been there with her when she made the new promise. He still puts the blame on himself and he's so upset that his failure lead Emma to live in a world alone without the family she cares for more than anything.

I wasn't too satisfied last chapter when demon god told us the real reward and Emma's response was a simple "okay," so I'm grateful we learned more about the conversation now in this chapter. She really did want to live her family. She even knew some of them might get mad at her for keeping a secret. She says it's a selfish request, for her to place such a heavy burden on herself, but what mattered to her back then upon accepting the reward is what has always mattered to her, and that's her family's happiness and safety. It wasn't just her loved one either, but for all the demons and cattle children. This girl truly has a heart of gold and demon god himself is left surprised. Of course I wish she didn't think she was being selfish since everyone did agree to follow her as their leader but aahh.. my poor girl.

Spoiling the very end now, but we dont get one last fullscore trio hug. Of course that upsets me since I thought it would've made such a perfect ending, but it makes sense now given how everyone's reunion with Emma happened. While their happiness and relief is completely understandable after searching two years and finally finding Emma, they overreact and this visibly freaks her out. Come on guys, last time I said to gently remind her of her past, not bombard her right away. Having a ton of strangers surround you and tell you such outlandish things is quite jarring. I'm glad she takes the chance to listen to everyone, but she just doesnt know these people well enough to suddenly hug them. I imagined a hug would've happened upon her recalling some of her memories somehow and feeling relived that she met the two boys she often once dreamt about, but oh well.

Norman takes this time to step in and ease some of the tension, saying how happy he is that Emma's alive and even reiterating some of the things he said to her during his shipment scene. While this chapter soon shows how well the escapees have adapted to the human world and changed, it also puts an emphasis on the boy's true personalities that they showed since the very beginning. I've already mentioned above how Ray stayed true to himself, about him being open and honest to the others with the truth and even his own feelings. With Norman, I don't know the word for him really, but his speech about their family and his feelings remind me of ch1/ep1 where we see him trying to calm Emma down after seeing what they did at the gate. He stayed by her side and remained hopeful even though he was just as scared. Right now, I get the same vibes. He's just as upset as their family upon learning Emma lost her memories, but he still wants her to be apart of their family.

Although it seems like a very rushed way of tying up loose ends, I'm happy to hear about how well the children have been adapting in the human world. They're attending school and following their passions. They all look so happy! The entire Lambda crew is healthy and Cislo even has a prosthetic leg! The medicine made from Adam's dna was successful and also helped those children from the mass production farms. Mike Ratri and the clan are actually being helpful and trustworthy. I absolutely love Norman's comment about Ayshe not killing him! It really makes me smile and I assume that means she's forgiven him.. maybe. Her dogs were indeed able to cross over to the human world too and now there's even more! Chris is finally awake! They seriously have to fill the poor boy in on so much news though.

I get it. It took the entire story for me to understand but now I get Norman's intense feelings. He's been infatuated by this girl since childhood. He told us/Ray his feelings at age 11 then "gave his life" to give her a better chance at survival. He kept living just for the slight possibly to see her again. After almost two years, they reunite, only for about a week or two before they all cross over into the human world and Emma is no where to be seen. Another two years pass and while they all find her, she's almost a completely difference person. Yet Norman's feelings remain so sincere for her that he accepts this new Emma. He lets her know that the bright future she wished for came true. (me? speaking of noremma? even im surprised)

Her head might not have the slightest idea who these people are, but her heart surely remembers! Emma's feelings for her family were so strong that they persisted throughout these entire two years, even after she stopped having those dreams about them. Deep down, and without even realizing it, she loves them so much that it makes her cry.

“Why am I... Even though I don't know them. Though I don't know anything. Though I can't remember. Why... Does it feel warm, but also so painful in my heart? I wanted to see you.”

Seeing everyone else get emotional and expressing their feelings to her right back and having all of them accept this new Emma.. yeah, that has me in tears! Demon god truly underestimated these kids and how deep their love for each other went. Emma's family was never going to give up looking for her because, thanks to her influence, they also didn't believe anything was impossible. “Screw destiny” indeed! (also we never did learn the old dude's name or Emma's new one hm? odd.)

Did Emma get her memories back? No. Did Ray pat her head again so I could die from nostalgia? No, because I'm still here. Did we get a fullscore hug like I originally hoped? No, sadly. The ending isn't picture perfect but honestly, this is still okay. Our precious girl is finally reunited with her family again. Most importantly, they're alive. The trio are teenagers about 15/16 years old now, which amazing since they once believed they wouldn't see a day past the age of 12. Yet here they are, living happy and free in the human world without fear and killing, which is exactly what Emma wished for.

I can't believe the manga is truly finished. It feels like it all went by so quick, but perhaps that's only because I haven't been in the fandom as long as others, like if you've been here since the manga started then I applaud you and can't imagine how sad this must be after four years. The anime is what caught my attention and my love for this series only grew when I jumped into the manga right after season one ended. I must have binged all available chapters at the time in like three days, all the way up to ch129. Since then I've waited patiently week after week to see how this suspenseful story would pan out for out lovable and very large cast of characters. Each new twist and cliffhanger made my brain crazy and stressed me out but it was so great to experience them with everyone.

Also, big thanks to all of you who share your comments on these reviews of mine! Even though I started writing them pretty late into the story and at the most stressful time, it was great to hear so much feedback and experience the exciting finish with everyone. The manga may have ended, but don't let that make the fandom quiet! We still have future manga volume releases to look forward to, the live-action movie that is still set for this December along with a live-action series that was also recently announced. Most importantly, season two of the anime is still scheduled for January 2021! You can bet I'll do reactions for each episode as I normally do with other anime! The series still has so much more content to give us, especially if the anime continues to recieve future seasons over the upcoming years, so of course I'll give my thoughts on all that I can.

I give all my thanks and appreciation to Shirai & Demizu for such a wonderful and suspenseful story, for all the memorable characters and the stunning artwork. The series has truly become my favorite. That's right, I said it! My favorite. TPN has taken over Black Lagoon as my favorite series. (Revy can still keep her spot as my favorite character but I'll be damned if Ray isn't a really really close second.)

[rjhpandapaws]

I Will Always Love You

Ch 1: You Won't be Alone This Time

Names/Translations:

Hank: Sealgair, Hennek

Connor: Curiosity, Feorachas

//TW: Death, memories of death, unrequited love

Curiosity wasn’t ready to see him again. That wasn’t to say that he hadn’t been happy to. He just hadn’t been ready. Curiosity had just gotten used to the idea of him being gone; and then there he was, like he had never even left. In another place and time as seemed to be mostly customary of these things, but he largely looked the same. Just like before his vibrant blue eyes were what drew curiosity in all over again, as it seemed he had not learned his lesson. Curiosity tried to stay away, but as they would eventually come to say: Curiosity killed the cat. He couldn’t stay away, not when Hennek looked at the world with so much wonder, the desire to know it in ways that books simply could not provide. Curiosity couldn’t ignore that, he had a hard time keeping his distance from overly curious humans as it was; but even then, with Hennek it was different. It felt like something bigger than the both of them, like Fate had written that wherever Hennek went Curiosity was to dutifully follow. It was an odd feeling, to think that as a being of Fate himself that his actions would seem so prewritten.

Like the predetermined beings he helped govern over, he gave into the pull and followed Hennek. By this point humans were trying to determine or create a god for themselves. Why; Curiosity could only guess. He would assume it was to help them understand the things he and Wisdom hadn’t yet shown them the answers to. The Beginning had told him to leave it alone, so for now he planned to. Hennek didn’t practice this newfound faith, but he was curious about it. Curiosity hadn’t given himself a form yet, he was only watching for now; just like last time he supposed. Perhaps Hennek - Sealgair in this life - would be better off like this; if he didn’t interfere. Sealgair was always alone; not truly though, since Curiosity lingered; but there were never any people with him. Solitary, he supposed would be the word to describe him, he wasn’t lonely. He seemed content to watch those around him rather than participate. Curiosity could understand that, humans were incredibly fascinating. HIs favorite creatures honestly, but they were not meant to be alone. That was what worried him. Sealgair made no moves to even be social, he was always on his own.

Curiosity started snooping, it couldn’t be helped really. He was the embodiment of curiosity; but moreover there had to be a reason. He had found Sealgair well into adulthood, there had to be something he had missed. Something he hadn’t gotten to see. There were always answers to these sorts of things, it was only a matter of digging for them. It took him months, closer to a year if he was honest, to start finding the answers he wanted. They were well hidden. Whatever had happened. Sealgair didn’t want anyone to know. Curiosity wasn’t a person so that was fine. Sure, he took his human form to interact with things, but that was more because as a mere presence he couldn’t open books. It was the principle of the matter. Sealgair had a family once, a wife and a little boy. The thought that Sealgair had loved someone else had stung, but it wasn’t like he had been there. According to the journals, he would dare to call them diaries he found hidden away, the relationship had crumbled rather quickly. Their child had been born ill and hadn’t made this fourth year. That was the start, the end of things had been Sealgair’s drams and ramblings.

Sealgair remembered having been Hennek, and him in a sense. He had vivid recall of the last  moments of his first life, down to Curiosity’s own presence, so he was aware that something was amiss. It was the rambling though; Sealgair trying to explain himself; that drove his wife away at long last. That was when Sealgair had made the choice to be alone. To observe. To try and find other like him. One of the journals went into detail of how Hennek had died. He was following someone that he had believed to be Curiosity, but he could never get close enough to get a good look. Every time he had called out Curiosity had only run faster. Of course; it hadn’t been him because he had been waiting for Hennek to return. Which made it one of three things; and age induced hallucination, Death dressed as him as she was known to do, or Balance luring him to his end. To where Death had been waiting. For the first time Curiosity cursed his own nature, he wished he had never learned any of this. He burnt the book as he held it, and it had taken a lot of his concentration to manifest his hurt and rage as a flame, but he wanted the book gone. Destroyed. When he looked up again Sealgair was standing in the doorway. His expression was an odd mix of recognition, fear, and awe; perhaps even anger for a moment.

“Its you.” Sealgair breathed, “I’ve seen you in my dreams. Beside me on that cliff. Why did you let me fall?” Curiosity was still processing the fact that he had been caught. He was certain he hadn’t been making that much noise, Sealgair wasn’t a light sleeper as it was. So Curiosity wondered what it was that had woken him. “Answer me Feorachas!” There was the anger from before. It rumbled in his voice and sharpened his eyes. “Why?” He pleaded, “Why did you kill me?” “That wasn’t - I didn’t... It wasn’t me.” He tried to explain, but the words caught in his throat, “I can show you that day from my perspective if you would like.” He tried to collect himself, but when the hurt persisted he decided that it wasn’t worth the effort, “I love you - loved - you. I wouldn’t have done that to you, even if The Beginning had threatened me with the end of the world.” He pleaded next, “Hennek, I need you to understand that. Please.” He wasn’t sure when he had reached out, or when he had started crying for that matter; but when Sealgair took his hand the memory took over. The sensation was a bit like free falling, and Curiosity was certain this was against all kinds of rules. He needed to do this though; Sealgair deserved to know.

Reliving that dat was not something that Curiosity was emotionally ready for. He had avoided thinking about this one day for centuries, so having to actively do so was difficult. Sealgair deserved to know; to understand. Curiosity would never hurt him, not then and not now. That was why he had tried to stay away. He watched Sealgair as he watched the memory. Observed as the emotions washed over him one by one in the same way they had done to him. Watched as he heard the words that version of Curiosity had said to him. The sight of his old body, even in that state, didn’t seem to bother him. He had long since come to terms with that death. What seemed to shake him bout it had been Curiosity’s reaction to finding him. When they were back to the present, to the real world as it were,  Sealgair stared back at him. “Who was it then?” He asked with a note of desperation to his voice, “Who was it that lead me to my death?” “I don’t know.” Curiosity replied with defeat in his own voice, “You were unwell so it could have been that, or my brother, or his... compatriot. There is enough that I don’t know and I can’t give you an answer. I’m sorry. I would like to know as well, who and moreover why. But that was an old life. It shouldn’t keep you from living this one Sealgair. Let go of it. I am with you now.” He squeezed Sealgair’s hand, “You aren’t alone this time.”

Curiosity stayed after that. Sealgair could use the company. There was no love this time, not from Sealgair; he was busy processing. So curiosity loved him privately. The village judged them harshly and Sealgair remained an outsider. If anything, Curiosity’s sudden presence might have made him more of one. Curiosity was lonely in his company, but he stayed. Sealgair deserved to no longer be alone. They were friends at the very least, and Curiosity helped when he could with what Sealgair allowed him to. Sealgair kept his distance and Curiosity got good at pretending that it didn’t hurt. He couldn’t blame him though, learning the things he had was probably unsettling. Humans weren’t meant to deal with their own mortality, and Curiosity probably should have been gentler in unloading it on him. Sealgair got to see old age, but farm work soon became too much for him. So Curiosity took over, he had learned how to do these jobs from observing Sealgair. Curiosity had aged only in appearance so he could handle the jobs just fine. He helped take care of Sealgair in the evenings, though Sealgair fought him the entire way. It was a matter of trust, the first time he had given Curiosity any form of faith he had died. Curiosity of course didn’t blame him. Even if he wished Sealgair would be a little less stubborn about it, but that wasn’t in his nature. Sealgair was many things, and stubborn was the first of them.

The years came on and eventually Sealgair was no longer aware of himself. He was kinder to Curiosity now, but it was brought out of not recognizing him and that hurt more than the distance ever had. Curiosity had retired the farm some years ago, he looked far too old to be doing that kind of work. All of his time was now spent with Sealgair. He was asleep more often than he was awake now, and Curiosity spent a lot of that time running his fingers through Sealgair’s age whitened hair. With all of the time he now spent with Sealgair, he was there when he died. It was a peaceful affair this time. She came for him in his sleep, a rattling exhale and then nothing. Curiosity had been ready to let him go this time so there wasn’t as much pain. He had kept his promise, though Sealgair had not made it easy to. He saw to it that Sealgair was properly buried then vanished. He hoped Sealgair might love him again in the next life. For now though, he had questions for Balance, and he would be getting his answers if Balance gave them to him or if Death did.

[whereflowersbloom]

Questions

Damian found his girlfriend standing out on the lovely vine-shaded balcony, dressed in civilian clothes and staring out into the city. Night turned Gotham into an endless sea of luminescence. Skyscrapers around the city glow with the light of thousands of residents inside, creating trails of brilliance that ascend up towards the starry sky. It is quite beautiful, in its own way. The soft evening breeze caressing her ebony hair, creating wafts of lavender and rosemary in the air. Had she always been this breathtakingly beautiful? Slowly, Damian set his gaze towards the stars above. The precision that Raven studied the sky with passion, it fascinated him. It was as if she was reading lines from a story book, but instead there was a mass of speckled lights as she was connecting them, tracing invisible lines.

Raven took a deep breath of fresh night air and sighed, a mix of contentment, and something else, she couldn’t point it. “Have you ever considered what your life would be like If you had taken a different path?” Her breath hitched on the last word but her eyes had glance sideway to his large calloused hand still in hers, for someone who appeared to be controlling and unapproachable, Damian was surprisingly gentle and affectionate. The question caught him off guard. He felt a bubble of longing as he remembered her words that night at the carnival when she had called him kind and generous, nobody had ever spoken that way about him. That night something inside him changed, high and fenced walls began to crumble down.

Soaking in the view a little longer, Damian waited a few minutes before deciding to speak. He supposed that the saying that one’s life flashes before their eyes must hold some kind of truth, though he was not dying, and yet he had been dangerously close to the gates of death several times. Raven was his anchor amidst the unpredictability of their life as titans, always bringing him back from the turbulent waters. He couldn’t stop himself from recalling the most memorable moments of his unusual and complex life. He exhaled a long audible breath as he begins.” My life had been long decided before I was born into this world.” He murmured to the whistling wind, his words sounding faraway, even to his own ears. He would rather not relive any of the horrors he’d seen, the terrible acts he had committed in order to build a new world, make it better. What a blind and naive child he had been. At some point he had been ready to surrender his sword, his Robin suit, his claim to fight for others, offer her perhaps a normal life if that’s what she wished for. He would give her anything she asked for in a heartbeat. He squeezed her small hand tighter, Raven immediately noticed way he’s gripping onto it, like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. “After some time coming to the tower, I contemplated a rather uneventful, ordinary life. If my parents had conceived me under very different circumstances. If mother loved me more than her own insatiable ambitions. If father wasn’t the eccentric, mysterious millionaire Bruce Wayne or a vigilante consumed by his thirst to serve justice.” There was a tone of melancholy in his voice, the promise of a different retelling of a story. His story. “It wasn’t all bad. Mother…she used to read to me, every one now and then, nights like these. Tales about the greatest leaders in history, others about the origin of the Al Ghul dynasty. I treasured those moments.” He looked over at her, and he didn’t seem to recognize her for a moment, like the memory had been so strong it had actually confused him, taking him back to that instant. This was the most he’d ever really said about his mother. His past as an Al Ghul. Sure he’d shared some stories, about certain things he enjoyed and disliked. But he never spoke about Talia with such profound emotions. This was personal and precious to Damian. It saddened her. Saddened for the pain in his emerald eyes that he was trying to hide. Another long breath was blown between his full lips, and he deflated again, like he was accepting the undeniable truth. “Perhaps I would have met Jon at a local school and we would play basketball after classes and Greyson would be the team’s coach. Maybe we would have crossed paths at the extensive and valuable Gotham Public Library. I would have offered to treat you a cup of Earl Grey tea. A part of me believed I’d have picked Veterinary medicine as my bachelor degree.”

She looked at him with such intensity and Damian thought her violet eyes grew deeper, darker, more reflective. She was weighing her own reflection in his eyes, trying to see through him like she always did. And they both were visualizing, a different life consisting of trivialities, a simple lifestyle, maybe in the countryside, a rather nice and quiet house, perhaps similar to the Kent farm with some slight but substantial improvements. “What about you?” He abruptly asked her, startling her. Oh she had never been sure about her own future. “As the daughter of an inter-dimensional demon. I didn’t think a future was possible for me. A happy family, a stable romantic relationship, loyal friends. Everything was endless blackness when I was trapped by Trigon. What I have right now is more any blissful future I could have imagined.” She muttered softly. This companionship between them, the mutual care, the tender loving, the sense of equality between them, the feeling of belonging to each other beyond any outer interference because they chose one another. Their family and friends. Everything was more than enough. Damian was unconsciously too absorbed at how she looked at the whole world as one precious thing, values life in every form and shape. Her unnatural powers gave her the ability to look into something and see what others can’t. It was fascinating. He was thankful too, sincerely appreciated what he had. His father, troublesome siblings adoptive or not, his teammates and Raven. He is product of the flames which burnt him, his actions, his choices and the will that made him grow formidable instead of breaking. They both were. This woman was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his human days with.

“There’s something that wouldn’t change. You. It’s always been you, Raven.” He’s got a dazed look in his eyes, a familiar bright gleam to them that hadn’t been there earlier, but he flashed her a dazzling smile at her, one that make her insides jump. Raven let his words sink in. He wanted her even if things were different and joy seeped through her whole body.

She just felt greedily wanting more time with him, every moment and experience. She loved him, from the possessive way he held her or how he kept on touching her the instant they are alone and he felt he same. They have been together for a few years now, it took them some time to announce it to their significant others. No matter how things turned out, they have this genuine, real and consuming love. That emotion when you felt like your lungs are out of air when your lover is away from you, everything was so intense and yet so tender, you were worried it would break between your fingers like crusty autumn leaves. She focused on him.

Damian looked out of his depths. He’d always been so controlled and measured, knew the weight of his every word and was completely unflappable despite whatever life threw at him, but now he didn’t. He seemed as if he was nervous, unable to spell out his own feelings. Hesitant. Could be her imagination but she sensed a slight agitation awakening in him.

“Marry me, Raven.” The words are said with his whole heart. They are genuine and honest and very him. He couldn’t hold back the words any longer. Why wait anyway? theres simply no time when you’re busy saving the world day-to-day. There’s no question to calculate when is the right right or your fated person, no formula for the correct time. Timing. There’s no use reminding about the past or the life they would have dreamed to have. The present was a gift and ultimately what matters the most. They have been romantically involved for 4 years now. He knew she was the one the moment he gathered courage to ask her out, court her properly the way he had been taught. Initially, he planned to propose differently but it felt right. This conversation only strengthened his resolve to make a Raven his wife.

“Damian.” She breathed with astonishment.

“No buts. Marry me.” He commanded with an eyebrows raised stopping her from coming up with an unnecessary excuse, content filling his veins and the marrow of his bones, flooding him with a blanket of warmth and hope. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He wanted her, now and tomorrow and the rest of his existence, and she loves him. Like he knew she’s always had her doubts on if she could be loved or she did before they started dating.

Her bottom lip trembled momentarily. She felt a bit like she can’t breathe properly, but then Damian is reaching up and gently cupping her cheek, and she exhaled shakily as he runs the pad of his thumb over her lips. He was looking at her dead serious, asking her to marry him. “I’m not taking the chance to wait too long.” Damian whispered urgently. His tone more serious than before. Her heart was hammering in her chest. They moved in together about a year ago. Were they ready to take the next step?

It felt too real all of a sudden. Too damn real, and she wants to drown in it this moment, in this bottomless sea of feelings for him. She wanted to pretend that this is real and more than that, she wanted to say yes. Damian Wayne didn’t take a no for an answer. When he was determined, he did everything posssihke to get it, one way or another. And she loves him nonetheless. Raven felt her heart flutter, her chest tightened ever so slightly as she finally exhaled. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Damian.”

“I love you.” Her voice breaking as tears are rolling down her cheeks and the small smile on her lips. It was easy to find herself gravitating toward Damian, falling back into that wordless sync they had. To feel herself being pulled into his personal space as he crowded hers. Until they faced each other with barely inches between them and her breath hitched as he snaked his arms around her, emerald eyes softened, glowing against the moonlight, they didn’t leave her, and his arms made the distance between them disappear. Their lips are barely touching but he can feel the softness, the plumpness of her mouth, like an overripe fruit. She brushes her lips against his and Damian rapidly kissed her fervently. His lips breathing silent ‘I love you’s. The low giggle that rumbled up through her could not be contained though she tried. She knew several language but no words could describe this ecstatic happiness.

Damian is overwhelmed by the sweet taste, the delicious scent, the warm feel of her. He was intoxicated and drunk off their hungry kiss. He trailed his hand on her waist up her back and feels her heart hammering against her ribs and wonders for a moment if she’s feeling as consumed by the kiss as he is. If she is as incredibly happy as he is right in this moment. He didn’t need a different life, this one was exactly what he wished for.

Damian made a mental note to ask Jon to accompany him ring shopping tomorrow. Tonight he had plans to celebrate his engagement with his gorgeous fiancée.

His lips brushed hers in a soft, tender rhythm once again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Harder, and a little bit hungrier than before, until her fingers are intertwined in his hair and his solid body is pressing against her frame. He lifted her up effortlessly, taking a few steps back, taking her back to their bedroom. Two figures bathed in tranquil starlight disappeared.

Oneshot because I need fluff. Final edit

Thank you to @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @deep-in-mind67 and all my readers for motivating me to write. This might be the last chapter for a while. 💜💜

[regrettablewritings]

I, u, y for bodhi rook please!

As the words process in my mind, a tear rolls upon my cheek . . .

Could it be? I dare wonder. An lo: It is.

He has returned, after so far away in time . . .

I = Impression (What was their first impression?):

Well, he certainly wasn’t what you had expected, that was for sure. Defecting from the Empire was no easy feat, even for somebody as unassuming as a delivery pilot. To the enemy, every literal body counted — even if only to assure complete dominance over the individual. So when you had learned that one of their own had not only detected, but potentially played key in helping to locate Galen Erso?

You couldn’t help it: Your imagination went wild. You imagined someone big and strong, teeth gritting from years of pent up anger towards the unjust causes of the tyranny spreading across the galaxy.

What you got was a scrawny, sheepish, possibly traumatized (thanks, Saw, you absolute nerf-herder) slip of a man who seemed to be afraid of taking up any space he happened to exist in. It was...disappointing to say the least. But you had to commend him regardless for defecting and even surviving Saw, and there was no gain in looking down on him.  

And then came the Scarif mission.

Nobody had expected him to go -- well, nobody was excpected to go, given that the Alliance Council turned down Erso’s idea, but least of all you expected him to be willing to go and do it. You expected the blind guy to go sailing off to a certified death mission before you did this guy! And honestly, that had you worried for him. Unfulfilled expectations or not, he wasn’t someone who had incurred your ire or even your indifference; you may not have gotten the chance to actually know him beyond a few words exchanged during the very brief time he’d been on base (“Welcome to the right side.” “Uh, y-yes . . . Thank you . . .”), but he certainly didn’t strike you as someone who needed to go on this type of outing. Enough people died unnecessarily in this damned war . . .

To learn, eventually, that he wasn’t one of them was therefore all the more shocking to you.

While the mission to steal the Death Star blueprints had been successful, it clearly didn’t come easy. Everyone who had survived had been wounded to some degree, with Captain Andor appearing to receive the worst of it as he was carted off to the infirmary. Bodhi, to your relief, wasn’t especially harmed. Roughed up, certainly, and clearly shaken from the experience, but that didn’t change what you now knew for certain: Bodhi Rook, this timid bean pole of a defector, was one of the bravest men you had the pleasure of knowing existed.

Even though he apparently was intimidated by you when you two first met. Granted, everyone intimidated him: He had just went AWOL with the government he’d been employed by, he was “taken in” by people whom he’d been taught by propaganda to fear and be distrustful in, he was still trying to regain his frazzled sanity after being interrogated by that . . . that thing, and he’d just witnessed his home get bombed. Needless to say, the anxious-by-nature man was simply not in an especially welcoming mood.

Still, he tried to be civilized (maybe because he feared getting beat up if he didn’t). He wasn’t sure what to say in response to your, er, “greeting” when you hustled up war-battered clothes besides an awkward thank you. He really wasn’t sure what to make of you that would separate you from his overall feelings towards nearly everyone in this whole operation: You were strong, you had been through enough and were surely hardened by it, and you could probably snap his spine over your knew if you particularly cared to.

Of course, he’d spent next to no time with you when he thought these things of everyone involved in the Rebellion. He had no time to: He had to fly around the Maker’s galaxy and back! It actually wasn’t until after the Scarif mission that he was given ample time to readily wipe his impressions and assumptions clean. He felt he needed to, given what dedication he’d seen on those beaches.

Besides, you approaching him afterward certainly helped. You picked up that he wasn’t fond of crowds during evening mess when he quietly slinked away from the group gathering to hear retellings of the infiltration on Scarif. You figured perhaps a one-on-one situation might’ve sufficed. Better yet, inquiring about his current state might’ve been preferable to reliving the experience.

He appreciated the gesture on your part. Maybe . . . you weren’t nearly as ice-cold as he’d thought you were. At the very least, definitely not as bad as Cassian.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?):

Bodhi is a naturally anxious person, and the hardships and experiences he’s encountered haven’t exactly made that any better. Sure, he’s a lot braver now and more willing to act, but he’s still nowhere near as gung-ho or fiery as his companions.

He’s had some methods in the past that clearly didn’t work out in his favor (fun fact: he’s got a record for gambling), but one of the best tried and trues is simply going somewhere quiet. His thoughts are in a constant buzz, he benefits from a lack of outside stimuli when he feels overwhelmed. The problem is . . . quiet is so very hard to find when you’re in the middle of a war. As an Imperial cargo pilot, you could just plain forget about the idea of having time to yourself: You belong to the Empire, your time is the Empire’s time and you are in no position to use it up.

Being a part of the Rebellion is better by legions, but the base on Yavin IV leaves much to be desired in terms of privacy and quiet. Luckily, the planet is lush and forested: If Bodhi is on base and feels the need to sit in the quiet and gather his thoughts and calm down, he need only walk in any given direction, find a tree to sit under, and just stay there for a while. The places he chooses are far enough to where he can relax and not have his thoughts and heartbeat disturbed by the banging of machinery or the hollers of drill sergeants, but never so far as to be unable to get help should he need it.

It wasn’t long before he began to incorporate you into these relaxation methods, however. As it turns out, as much as he may enjoy being able to sit by himself in the brush, he very much likes being able to sit with you anywhere. You’re almost like a walking calming center for him, especially when you touch him: Hold his hand, rub his back, let him lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair . . . It’s like a missing link he never knew he’d been missing to begin with! They’re seemingly small things, but they make a big difference. You can always feel him losing his tension beneath your touch, often announced by quiet sighs or tiny shudders. It’s truly the cutest thing and you’re so glad to be the cause of it and help him calm down. Just not nearly as glad as he is to have you there to calm him.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?):

The thought of marriage has switched on and off throughout Bodhi’s life; really, it depends on the exact moment. As a child, he certainly thought about it more, if only because children are want to do such things. But as an adult, it begins to falter. By the time the events of the story show up, he can go long stretches without even once thinking about his stance on whether or not he should get married. Because really, it’s more based on the exact moment: If he’s in a surprisingly good way or even in a moment where he must think about how short life can be, the certainly he gives it some thought.

But in his usual misery and anxiety while serving the Empire, such silly concerns are the furthest thing from his mind; they’re so far on the back burner that they may as well have fallen behind the stove, forgotten, dusty, and moldy!

Even when he meets you, the thought surprisingly doesn’t come up for a while. It’s not that you don’t make him happy or inspire any intention of long-term romance -- far from it, actually! You make him feel the happiest and most comfortable than he’s felt in literal years! In fact, that’s honestly probably why the subject of marriage doesn’t pop up to him so immediately: His life as of late has become a bit of a balancing act, what with him now being a part of a rebellion he hadn’t planned on joining and, consequentially, trying not to get him or his new comrades killed. Normally, this sort of thing would’ve sent him into a panic-induced coma. But with you present in his life, giving him a sense of calm and someone to fight hard enough to come back to, you actually make him start to enjoy the present. (Well, the calmer ones, at least.)

He’s not as caught up about the past or afraid of the future as he used to be; he’s actually enjoying the moment with you as is. Sure, every now and again, if he does (or doesn’t) mean to think about it, his mind does slip and he finds himself thinking, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind being with them after all this . . .” He even dares to dream about the two of you sharing a life together on a nice, simple planet with lots of trees and greenery. Maybe somewhere quiet. A farm might be nice: He can so some gardening there and you two can build a house together, all big and roomy like you’d always wanted instead of cramped and stuffy like the living quarters you always complained about . . .

But then his attention would be dragged elsewhere (to a meeting, to training, to you calling him to join you for dinner). He doesn’t mind. He’s not brushing aside the possibilities of proposing to you and marrying you, but the dreams can wait: All in all, you’re here right now and he’s perfectly content being there with you. For now.

Thank you for asking and for being patient!

[wwwafflewrites]

Imagine Meeting the Winchesters in the Apocalypse

It had been days since you'd seen a real person.

You had holed yourself away in an old home, a few miles from where you used to live. You would peer out at the landscape, letting your imagination create dystopian pictures over the silent empty roads and overgrown grass. You hardly dared to leave, only when you were in desperate need of restock on supplies.

You were actually debating on going out today. The sun was strong and the sky was clear, and there were no signs of the zombie-like creatures being anywhere near this side of the country. You had checked everything twice. You had to be thorough when your life was on the line.

You had placed all your necessities in your drawstring bag, prepared to hike over to the nearest plot, a humble farm which hopefully still had some resources left, if hunters hadn't already wiped the place clean.

Hunters, you'd called them, were scarier than the zombies. They would pick a place clean, knives and guns at their sides, and move on to the next house. You had come across two parties of them, so far. The first set hadn't been very friendly, and you had nearly died to someone eager to shoot you. Luckily, they missed.

You had been more careful with the second group, hiding behind a convenient pine tree until they had satisfied themselves. You had been collecting mostly edible apples just a few meters away, and you don't know what you would have done if you had been in the house at the time. What if they had seen you?

You were fine as you were. It was a little lonely, but the solitude was better than constant anxiety over friends and family. Here, you were watching out for yourself and no one else. It helped you clear your mind. You really hoped to never see anyone again. It was a useless wish.

Exactly two weeks after your incident with the first group of hunters (you had been tracking days on a calendar, afraid of losing your sense of time), and nine days since the other sighting, your heart leapt in your throat. A pair, two men, both burly and muscular, and oh god they could kill me with one blow— were walking up the driveway and to the front door.

You could hear them: not what they were saying, but the muffled sound of them talking. The only slightly short man—he's still like six foot, god help me—was going on about something in a subtle southern accent.

Your heart was galloping right then. You were two stories up, had seen them through the window of the bedroom, and you were now debating on taking a brave leap out the window. If you didn't, there was no doubt they would find you. Even the best hiding spots were searched carefully by hunters. It was this and take the chance of a broken ankle, worst case a broken neck, or take the chance that these men weren't all that bad and risk a potentially fatal confrontation. Neither options were very attractive.

You steeled yourself. The window jump was more predictable, and you could estimate the overall damage you would take from this height. Below the window was mostly concrete, but if you could just maneuver yourself off to the right a little, it was possible that you could hit the overgrown grass with little injury.

First step, open the window. You did so, with shaky hands, the wind calmly breathing on your face. You could hear them downstairs—okay, okay, okay, just get out a little bit— you climbed out, leg first, clutching onto the steep roof with what little it provided you. Your stomach clenched as you eyed the ground below. You inched your way to the right a bit, straining to hold on and not fall just yet—

The bedroom door opened and you panicked, your feet digging in while your hands released and scrambled at the side for another grip, clawing like a rabid animal at the shingling.

A hand, not your hand, a strong hand, shot out the window and seized your arm. But a voice spoke through your panicked haze, "Hey, hey, you're alright. Easy, easy. It's okay." His voice calmed at your fluttering heart, like a break on a speeding car. His other hand reached out to grab you, keeping you steady against the side of the building. "Alright, now reach your leg through. Yeah, y—just like that. It's okay, you're not going to fall, I've got you."

Your breathing was erratic, reliving your terrifying experiences with past hunters.

The man directed you back in through the window until you were fully inside, where you sort of collapsed into his arms. He didn't complain, he just held you as you suffered through one of the worst panic attacks you'd ever had. Eventually, he sat you down on the bed, and you were faintly aware of his companion, probably his brother now that you thought of it, was watching the interaction silently from the doorway.

The man who had saved you from a poor escape attempt was watching you a space away, his eyes concerned and round. His hair was long and soft, and you had felt it brush against your arms as he had pulled you in. Distraction was a practice you often found useful nowadays when you battled anxiety.

You hadn't had anxiety before this… this apocalypse, you supposed, but times had changed. You had to adjust, understand your environment, and most importantly, understand yourself. It meant researching at the nearest library on anxiety disorders and how to manage them (and also grabbing several books on survival and tossing them into your drawstring). You guessed it was fair; people often got disorders from traumatic experiences, and with your past pretty-vanilla lifestyle, this dramatic change was no short of traumatic to you. You had to learn how to adapt to everything because everything was out to kill you.

Except these guys, apparently.

The hand that had probably saved you from a broken leg or worse was still planted on your shoulder, and you tried to remember that. You were safe, or at least at the moment.

You didn't know how long it had taken you to calm down after that, but you were impressed with their patience. The attack left you exhausted, which set deep into your bones and throughout the rest of your body. Suddenly the bed seemed very welcoming. You didn't let it show, though.

Finally, you broke the uneasy tension (your tension, but tension nonetheless; they seemed pretty calm about all this, though maybe a little concerned for your sake), "What's your name?" You decided to start off light.

"Sam."

"Dean," said the one at the doorway.

You stated your name and then sighed. "I haven't seen a real person in days."

Sam's eyebrow quirked, showing his confusion but not unkindly. "Real person?"

"Not a zombie."

"Ah," he answered. He took this pause to look back at his brother (or, at least you assumed), and they shared this knowing look.

You risked a question. "Have… you two seen anyone else? I mean… real people? It's been really quiet. I'm used to it so… quiet."

This time, the other man spoke up. "Nah. We actually haven't seen anyone besides you yet. We've been on the road for a while. Mostly silent. We think the virus is… um… done."

"Done?"

Sam was wary as he answered, "Well, the virus, uh— well, it…"

You gave them a look. "Can you not tiptoe? You obviously know more than I do. And whatever you tell me, I'm bound to believe you. We're in the freaking apocalypse, I don't think much is out of the question anymore."

Still, they sent you dubious looks.

"You could tell me it was unicorns and I'll trust your word. You probably saved me from a bad few fractures—"

"Oh, trust me, that fall would have more than fractured—" Dean cut in.

You glared at him to shut up. "I just want something to blame for screwing up my life."

Sam was hesitant, but he nodded. "It's a demonic virus. This one seems to have lasted a lot longer than… well, previous experience, but eventually all the Croatoans just… they just disappear."

You blinked, surprised but believing. "Huh," you breathed. Not what you were expecting, but you accepted it. It was better than anything you had dreamed up.

"Yeah," Dean huffed, scratched his head. "Pretty fricked up."

Sam stood, gave you some space. It was appreciated, but you wouldn't lie, their presence was nice. They were kind and gentle, everything you hadn't expected the two large men to be.

Later, you drifted to sleep with the rumble of the Impala and their muted conversations in your ears.

[aviewfromtheclouds25]

Tell me your other theories on his return. I’m intrigued if you say it all fits together.

What’s you feelings on a reunion in the future? How would it happen?

Oh don’t be intrigued haha! That was really just in terms of the Luke aspect (because he has to have a bigger purpose, because otherwise his introduction and role in this storyline is such an utterly perplexing choice even for the current state of ED) and the timeframe, in that I expect Luke to have some knowledge which he’ll reveal eventually - not any time soon, because Aaron needs to spiral (and breakdown please) and he can’t even start that until he stops suppressing his feelings and distracting himself with Cain’s drama etc (all the while Vic and Luke will be progressing I imagine) - and this could help to change Robert’s sentence from murder to manslaughter, or even the original GBH with intent, and therefore shorten his sentence. So with time served, Robert could be out a fair bit sooner (how much, I don’t know) than the 14 years he was given… Which just helps me reaffirm to myself that half the reason they gave Robert the longer sentence in the first place (aside from the plot of tearing him away from Aaron obviously) is because ED are prepared to wait a few years to see if Ryan wants to return. With the potential of being able to change the charge and sentence, it means their options are relatively open for the time being to see how things develop both on and off screen. (If I’m wrong, just let me stay here please.)

I don’t have any fully-fledged theories yet, it’s a bit too soon for that! All I have at the mo are vague thoughts which aren’t that exciting… I’ve seen quite a bit of talk about “affair 2.0” but I have to admit I’m personally not interested in seeing that. Because 1) The drama and angst and intensity of the original affair just could never be emulated again, even by the very same and always amazing Ryan and Danny! 2) How would nobody pick up on it this time? 3) The whole point of everything that happened in 2017 and the creation of “Robron 2.0” was that their marriage has been built on far more solid foundations than those forged during their affair, and I would hate for all the progress they made together to be taken backwards. 4) It is madness to me that anyone could even contemplate that if Aaron is with another dude (if ahem), that he wouldn’t just drop him as quick as Alex the incompetent doc in that club. Regardless of whether he was prepared to take Robert back or not, if the love of his life has returned, I just don’t see any potential new guy sticking around. (Unless there’s a plot.) (I also say all of this in the hope that no new guy becomes serious or long-term.)

I’d like the reunion 3.0 to be dramatic and angsty, but at the same time I want it to be true to Robron and where they were in their life together before they were torn apart. I don’t know that I can really form any theories on what I expect to happen so soon after Robert’s gone (I love that he’s been gone a week and all we can all talk about is when he comes back haha), but I can offer you a vision of what I personally would quite like..? :P

So I have no clue on the timescale - I guess that depends on Ryan! :P I always thought Vic would be the natural choice (for the show, not me haha) to bring Robert home, but then @nooneelsecomesclose17’s post put the image of Jimmy greeting Robert outside that prison in my head and now I can’t unsee it (nor would I want to, it’s genius). So I’ve decided to tie that image to a long-held dream of mine…

So in this dream Aaron will have signed the divorce papers once he’s finished spiralling because we need wedding 3.0 obviously, but in his heart he still won’t have given up on being reunited with Robert some day. So I’d like him to spend much of the time Robert’s locked up doing things which remind him of Robert and help him feel closer to him - things like ripping people off, scamming them and trying to get his hands on Home Farm. Because my old dream which I think I’ve covered before (although probably just in my tags haha) was for Robron and the Kings to own Home Farm together; for it to become the hub of Home James once more, for the sheer comedy of having these two power couples and their chaotic families getting under each others’ feet, making it more relevant to the rest of the village than the house on the hill with its panto villains, and for it to actually become a home. So in terms of this new dream, I would have Aaron and Jimmy team up on this endeavour - and they’re actually the only ones left from that original portacabin quartet! So Aaron because he needs a goal and a focus and if it’s one in which he feels more connected to Robert then even better, and Jimmy because Nicola is always going to be up for improving their lot. I also quite like the idea of Aaron being able to do what Robert never could, and I have no idea who will be at Home Farm x amount of years down the line but if it was still the Tates (although could we at least get rid of Kim + co. and bring back Joe instead?) then I would be delighted to see the Kings take it all from them once more! :P

So I would have Aaron and Jimmy very close to achieving their goal by the time Robert is about to be released. And because Robert still hasn’t had any contact with his family and is nervous about how they’ll feel towards him, who does he contact? Jimmy! And Jimmy of course is a great oaf and would immediately let it slip to Aaron. And regardless of what’s passed, I think Aaron would have some understanding and empathy of how daunting and overwhelming it would be for Robert to return to the village after so long of complete isolation, from the world and from the people who are his world… So he and Jimmy would hatch a plan…

Cue Jimmy driving Robert back to the village, chewing his ear off or “pecking his head”, when they suddenly happen to “break down” in the lay-by… Robert would get out of the car to get away from Jimmy’s incessant talking and because it’s obviously a small confined space, but then he would realise where they actually were and become overwhelmed by that too - and since this is my dream world, they would treat us to another little montage of memories to come full circle from that too! :P Meanwhile, Jimmy would be “phoning for a mechanic” before joining Robert outside because he might be an oaf, but he cares… And then much quicker than it should be, Aaron of course turns up. So then he would step out of the car and we would get the delightful combination of intense Robron eye contact and a very obviously awkward Jimmy… And because it’s still my favourite thing, I would like a wordless embrace with alllll the emotions similar to when Aaron was released. At which point Jimmy would clumsily make himself scarce and drive off (in the vehicle which very obviously had not broken down, bless).

So then we’d be left with an awkward, tense Robron because neither of them know what happens next, only how good it feels to be even breathing the same air again… Perhaps at this stage Aaron would be in some kind of relationship (because he tried to convince himself he had to “move on” and because I might be able to accept it for a few weeks if I have the guarantee that Robert’s on his way home already :P), so we’d obviously get a conversation with a lot of callbacks and then Aaron would just dump that chestnut in there and we’d get something along the lines of; R: So why are you still here? A: You know. [But Robert doesn’t respond. Unsure of what Aaron is saying, he waits.] A: Because I love you, that’s why. I never stopped. And they can both be emotional, not knowing the next step, so Aaron could fill the silence with some quip about also needing to give Robert a lift home now Jimmy’s gone which Rob, bless him, wouldn’t even have noticed. And then Robert and I would both be left pondering what exactly Aaron means by “home”. But on the journey home, Robert will find his watch in the car (yeah, I’m really going with that old theme and sentiment of the cars here!)…

Beyond that I would have Aaron finish with this new dude and then for him to have a proper conversation with Robert about where they stand, once Robert’s started adjusting to the outside world again. And in this conversation we’d see that they’ve both been hardened by everything that’s happened since Robert went away, that Robert in particular has some issues he needs to work through before they even contemplate what the future might look like for them, but I’d want Aaron to tell Robert that line “I’ll wait for you. ‘Til you’re ready.“  And then I’d like them to embark on friendship…3.0?…with Aaron being supportive to Robert and helping him through the process of adjusting back into normality after x years of total isolation on that island. (The phrase "no man is an island” would definitely come into play with all of this, especially with Robert having cut all lines of communication.) And gradually they’d grow closer, and I’d be reliving the good old days of “It’s going to happen soon! It has to happen soon!” :P Meanwhile, Aaron and Jimmy would have one last big job to do to have the means to get Home Farm and naturally Aaron would have told Robert all about the scheme. So Robert would want in on this last stretch but Aaron would put his foot down, reminding Robert that if it all went wrong he’d end up back inside. But if Aaron’s getting mixed up with dodgy people and risking his life, there is absolutely no way Robert is going to listen to that of course. So he gets involved and the two of them help Jimmy escape before they themselves get stuck in some life-and-death situation and acknowledge that they absolutely cannot live without each other ever again. They both live, the dodgy people either get carted off to jail or die by their own ends (I have no specifics on the deadly situation, you know), and we get settled for wedding 3.0 and years more of Robron…

This is a ramble which serves absolutely no purpose except to distract me from the current Robert-less situation, so if you actually committed to reading all of this, I’m sorry haha!

[something-in-the-seas]

November 18th, 1968 (Part 1)

I thought I would share the Aftershock one shots. They’re on AO3 as well here. There is centered on the Bioshock 2 cast coming to the surface, basically it’s a long ass night and everyone is suffering. Our lord and savior Booker isn’t here yet but Ryan is suffering. 

I thank @frangstfontaine for inspiring me to finish this last night after those riveting Area 51 discussions 

TW: For pregnancy (Liz is pregnant with Ziggy). 

7:15 PM

The beginning of the holiday season had always been Jack’s favorite time of year. From what little he could remember during his time in Rapture, trapped in Fontaine’s laboratories and stuck under the eye of Suchong, besides New Years, everything else was heavily frowned upon. There were no organized religions in Rapture, so no Christmas or Hanukkah, unless you celebrated it in your own home. From what he could gather, Rapture’s founding, November 5th, was supposed to act as a stand in for the more commercial aspects of Christmas.

And Thanksgiving?

“Being thankful for what you have is for parasites! Propaganda made up by the hacks in Washington! Tell me, why do I have to thank any of you? For my accomplishments? No, I did that on my own, no invisible man in the sky helped me. For the displeasure you’ve all caused me for the past ten years? If so, yes, thank you-”

Well, Andrew Ryan made it very clear what his thoughts on Thanksgiving were, and he made sure everyone knew it every year during the big feast. Whether you wanted his opinion or not, you were going to get it. This Thanksgiving was going to be no exception.

So, he never got to celebrate the holidays as a child. The most he got was a piece of candy from Tenenbaum that he cherished. But, there were other memories jumbled in: of times when he was small, chewing on a turkey leg, saying grace with a family so large that the table could fit nearly a dozen people. He could vividly remember sitting on his father’s shoulders to put the star on the tree they picked together outside their farm in Kansas. He and his mother used to spend a day building an army of snowmen, and then spend the night snuggled by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate, listening to the Christmas radio dramas.

But, those weren’t real. The loving and gentle mother and father he remembered from events that never even happened had never existed. His whole life was a lie. At first, it was a lot to take in, and he had a hard time accepting it.

Getting able to recreate those moments with his children, though, made up more than enough. Their first Christmas, he barely had anything, but the joy on their faces when they saw the few presents he could afford under their tiny, dying tree in their uncomfortably small apartment somehow made it the most magical one of all.

He didn’t have a farm in Kansas, but he managed to work hard enough to afford a large, spacious house in a nice suburb right outside of town. He had that big table in their big dining room that perfectly fit a big, happy (for the most part) family for Thanksgiving.  Every Christmas marked more presents under their huge, ornament full tree, the stockings hanging on the fireplace practically being dragged down by how full they were. And even though Masha chose to celebrate Hanukkah, which they all celebrated together, she also did very well for herself when it came to gifts.

If he had the means, he was going to spoil his girls rotten. After everything they had gone through during the first few years of their lives, they deserved the world.

But, the material things weren’t why he loved the holidays. It was nice to give or receive a gift, the decorations in town were always beautiful, and keeping the dream of Santa Claus alive as long as humanly possible was special, of course. He used to say the holidays were his favorite because of how excited his girls would get when the time rolled in. How he was able to start new traditions with them like playing out in the snow or decorating the house as a family.  

Every year, more picture frames were added on the fireplace. What started as one lonely photo of them all standing at the steps of the lighthouse, squinting from the intensity of the sun and exhausted, turned into school portraits, memorabilia from family vacations, graduation pictures, it went on and on.

As Jack finished placing the garland on the fireplace, his eyes moved to one frame in particular; a photo of a stunning, beaming young woman with light brown hair, pointing at a letter she held out by the kitchen table. ‘Berkeley bound!’ was written on the white, wooden frame with purple paint.

Janice, his eldest, who used to be a gangly, awkward girl in a torn, dirty pink dress that didn't even go to her knees, was twenty-one now. She was on her second year at Berkeley Law. She earned it. She studied for weeks, stayed up multiple nights to achieve it, even when people doubted her, she never gave up, but still, he missed her. California was so far away from New York.

And Rosie, his not-so-little spitfire, was an hour away in NYU. Freshmen weren’t allowed to bring their cars onto campus, and if she ever wanted to come home for the weekends, he would have been at the train station to pick her up in a heartbeat. She just chose to stay in the city. The Big Apple was much more exciting than little, old Saratoga Falls. She had always been attracted to the bustle of the city and was happy living the nightlife with her friends. It must have been nostalgic for her.

With his girls all grown up and beginning to go their own ways, the holidays now meant something else to Jack. It brought them all home. He got to know them, not just as their father, but as their friend. He’d learn all about Masha’s family as they celebrated Hanukkah, Janice would tell about her time in California and everything going on at college, Rosie always had some crazy stories to share, and the younger girls ranted to him about their classes.

“Janice called.”

Jack turned his head to see his wife leaning on the doorway, a soft smile on her lips. She must have been watching decorate for a while.

“Do you know where she’s at?” he asked. He couldn’t have contained his excitement even if he tried.  

“When we talked, she had just picked up Rosie at the station and they were stopping to get gas and some drinks.” She walked towards him and wrapped her thin arms around his thick, muscular waist. “She said she needed caffeine and had to save her quarters for the vending machine, so she couldn't stay on for long.”

“I told her if she was too tired from the flight I would have picked her up at the airport,” Jack replied. “I don’t like any of the girls driving on Hamilton at night, you know how bad deer season is right now?”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk. “They’ll be fine, Rosie’s got enough energy in her to power a small army.”

“Liz, I had five cars coming into the shop from deer accidents this week alone. Completely totaled! I don’t even know what to do with them.”

“You know how careful Janice is, she moves at a snail's pace when there’s an inch of snow. They’ll be home, perfectly safe in a half an hour.” Elizabeth paused. “Ten minutes if Rosie gets pissed enough to take the wheel.”

He shook his head. “God help us.” He took her hands and rubbed his calloused fingers over her smooth skin. “So, who is this guy Janice is bringing over? Dennis?”

“David,” she corrected, playfully scolding him. “And from everything I’ve heard about him, he is a very nice guy, and he makes her very happy. Oh, and he’s in medical school.”

It was as if she was warning him, and Jack sighed, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “I’m sure he’s a good kid. She’s just so young. She’s only twenty-one!”

“I was twenty-one when I met you,” Elizabeth replied. “Besides, you were-”

“No, don’t even go there.”

And now he was playfully scolding her, and they both chuckled together before they found their wedding picture on the mantle. They stood outside the church, arm in arm, with their girls, who were much younger than they were now and wearing matching little dresses, with several good friends such as Dr. Tenenbaum.

There was a guilty pang in his stomach when he saw her in the back, looking awkward and like she didn’t belong. He could tell Elizabeth felt the same way, especially with how things were for the past month or so. It was a looming elephant in the room that had to be addressed soon, but they wanted to ignore it for just a little while longer.

He had to say, though, he looked quite dashing in his tux and Liz, of course, was gorgeous in that dress, but he was biased. His wife was the most beautiful woman alive.

And then, there was a more recent photo beside it of he and Sally, beaming from ear to ear after one of her cheerleading competitions last spring. It was closer to the city, and when it was over, they got ice cream. She wasn’t that cowering seven-year-old in the bathysphere anymore. Today was her birthday, and she was sixteen now.

“I miss when they were that small,” Jack said, his full of melancholy as Elizabeth rested her head on one of his broad shoulders. “It’s like they don’t even need us anymore.”

“They still need us.”

“Yeah, but they’re not coming to us anymore if they got a scrape or had a nightmare, or asking me to read them a bedtime story-”

“Isn’t this what we wanted, though?” Elizabeth asked. “Them to grow up and be normal, independent women with their own lives?”

“I just didn’t realize how fast it was going to go.” He faced his wife. “I miss when they’d run around the house and play dolls right here. Or, when they’d sit at the table and paint. I mean, what’s the point of having this big house if it’s empty?”

She smiled softly, leading his hands to the growing swell of her stomach, just beginning to poke out from her dress. “Just think, we’ll get to do it all over again soon.”

And the thought of reliving all those moments again and passing down those holiday traditions with someone entirely new- a little boy or girl who would be the perfect blend of them both- gave Jack chills. Good chills, but chills nonetheless. They both had dreamed about this, tried for years. There were so many tears shed. Doctors had told them to give up, that it just wasn’t possible, and they were ready to, but here they were now. Cradling their unborn child, who’s birth in just a few short months would mark the beginning of spring, and with it, a whole new chapter of their lives.

He may have been excited for this Christmas, but he was already looking forward to next year.

As he cupped his wife’s cheeks, Jack could only be amazed that she was somehow even more beautiful carrying their child than ever before. God, he loved her. He loved his family so much. Rapture and Fontaine may have tried to take everything from him, but they gave him even more than he thought was possible.

Their lips inched closer together, ready to share a passionate kiss, but their moment together was disrupted by the shuffling of feet. A small cough from near the doorway made them separate. Their youngest girl, fifteen-year-old Leta, glanced between the two as she rubbed her arm. Her cheeks were turning a light shade of pink.

“Grandpa wants to know if we’re doing cake soon,” she began after she was finished gawking. “He says that his show is coming on, and he does not want to be bothered while he’s watching it.”

The couple raised a brow at each other and scowled. “Did you tell him it’s up to your sister?” He asked.

“Well, yeah, but he told me that her birthday doesn’t give her superiority over him.” The bespectacled girl shrugged. "I didn't want to get into a debate with him."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes while Jack exhaled slowly. He placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulders. “Alright,” he said as father and daughter began to make their way to the kitchen, “let’s take care of the old man.”

“I’m going to see what Sal wants to do.” Elizabeth motioned upstairs. “It’s her day, she’s the birthday girl.”

Jack nodded, though, he felt a pang a jealousy that his wife didn’t have to deal with his father. Stress wasn’t good for the baby, and Andrew Ryan had the magical gift of raising blood pressures. He didn’t even need to open his mouth to do it, Jack could feel the inevitable migraine starting and there weren’t any arguments yet.

Yet.

[littlemisssquiggles]

It seems like the majority of the FNDM, even the folk at RWBYRW plus Shannon has taken the notion that Ozpin will take over Oscar or that the merge is parasitic in nature. How do you feel about it?

Honestlyanon-chan,I’ve never viewed the Merge that way. I acknowledge that the Merge is a seriousphase that both Oscar and Ozpin will essentially have to go through once thattime comes. But if I’m being completely truthful I’ve always leaned more towardsthe positivenotion that Oscaris going to be completely fine by the end of the change. It’s whyI’ve never quite dug the idea of other fans treating Oscar as Ozpin or as ifhe’ll just come out as another carbon copy of Ozpin. Technically… any mannerisms we’veseen Ozpin do that Oscar adopts as well came from Ozma. I’d like to think that theWizards inherited traits from their past lives, not just Ozma. Just as how theyall adopted Ozma’s formal way of talking, my belief is that the Wizard personais comprised of traits inherited from all past lifetimes.

Anyways,I’ve always first and foremost viewed Oscar as his own character with his own personality, story and journey to take in this plotthat differentiates him from Ozpin. It’s mainly why I’ve been vocal about thecanon fleshing out Oscar a lot better. Thus far, RWBY hasn’t frankly done muchfor Oscar, despite having source material that’s practically begging on itshands and knees to be used. I’d love to thinkthere is a lot more to be desired of Oscar as his own character besides hispart to play in the Ozma Reincarnation Cycle.

I’deven like to raise the point that there has been canonical evidence to highlight that Oscar isn’t the one who isexpected to change with the Merge. I talked about that in this musing post right here. Backin V5 when Ozpin was explaining his curse to RNJR for the first time, hedescribed it more along the lines as something he has to go through.

Ozpindidn’t even talk as if he was one person. He described himself as culmination of men—ofall the lifetimes that the Wizards have spent combating Salem and her forcestrying to save humanity.

Ozpintold the group that with each rebirth, his soul iseventually merged with another and he is changed but his memories remain.

Ozpintold RNJR that hewill change. He never once said that Oscar is going to change. Hedidn’t even describe it as if he and Oscar are going to change. Ozpin is theone destined to be affected the most from the Merge. For this, I stick with myown theories. My theory is that the closer the Merge approaches, it’s going toaffect both Oscar and Ozpin in different ways.

ForOscar, he’ll probably start to have frequent, dreams that involve him reliving memoriesfrom the lives of past Wizards as if the memories were his own. I’d actuallylove to see Oscar dream about the Great War with the King of Vale because he’sone life we have yet to learn more about.

Andas for Ozpin, Ozpin is going to begin to look more like Oscar physically. Forthe longest while I’ve been hoping that the CRWBY would give us a visualrepresentation of what the inside of Oscar’s mind looks like. When Oscar told the JNR_QRWBY that Ozpinlocked himself deep inside his head, I got super excited at this because Ifigured it would mean Oscar ultimately deep diving into his mind to bring Ozpinback home.

Y’know have Oscargoing on his own little journey to Oz  tofind the Wizard locked inside his lonely Emerald tower deep within theuncharted corridors of Oscar’s psyche behind curtained doors that contained themost cherished and forgotten pages of Oscar’s past.

Theidea I had was that the CRWBY would reveal more about Oscar’s life through his memoriesas we looked at his mind. My idea even was that Ozpin had hidden himself behind a painfulmemory thatOscar had repressed; buried so far in the back of his mind that hedared not look at it again because it’s a memory he hasn’t come to terms with;even as a teenager.

Mytheory was that Oscar was going to have to face his past in order to findOzpin. AJourney to Oz about a farm boy in search of a wizard who he wants to take home. That was my hunch and it’s one I hold dear to myheart because it’s a Pinehead headcanon Irefuse to let go of.

Although we got Ozpincoming back briefly in the V6 finale, I’m still holding out for this. Why Iwant the show to highlight Oscar’s inner mind palace or the Dreamscape as I dubbed it is because I personally want to seehow Ozpin appears inside Oscar’s mind.

Howdoes Ozpin look to Oscar inside his head? Right now I’d like to believe that ifOscar were to meet up with Ozpin inside his head, the old Wizard would probablytake the shape of his previous form—the one we’re most familiar with. The personaof Professor Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon Academy.

Butmy idea is as the Merge draws closer, Ozpin will come to physically resemble Oscar as aclear indicator. I got this idea from Ozma’s lifetime as Henkle. During that moment withHenkle having dinner with his family, you could see Henkle kind of acknowledginghis other soul—the past Wizard before him but what was very interesting to meis that the past soul looked exactly like Henkle but exhibited all the seriousnessof past Wizards before him.

Whenwe first met Henkle, he and the past Ozma before him has already co-existedlong enough that they were now working together in unison. The last time we sawHenkle, it was when he was an old man, possibly years after the Merge hadhappened. So by this point, the two souls has become one.

I am notscared for Oscar with this Merge. I stand firmly by my hunch that Oscar is notgoing to lose himself to the Merge. Ozpin is not going to take over and all essenceof Oscar won’t be erased. I don’t think any of that is going to happen. On thecontrary, all this talk about Oscar becoming someone else he doesn’t recognize—thatmore sounds to me like a reflection of Oscar’s fears of the Merge. Oscar is the one who believeshe is going to disappear while in reality, I think he’s going to be made whole.

Besides,even if I’m proven to be wrong and the Merge does become as serious as everyoneelse imagines it to be, nevertheless, I still stand by my hunches and anotherone I gave is that Oscar’s experience with the Merge is going to be differentthan any other Wizard before him.

MyPineheadheadcanon is that Oscar is meant tobe the last life. He is one I expect to change it all or at leasthelp to end it all. There are a few canonical signs pointing to Oscar’sscenario being different.

Oscaris the youngest of the Wizard reincarnates. There is also the titbit in theseries to suggest that Ozpin’s pairing up with Oscar might have been unexpectedand premature. The villains all reacted profoundly surprised that Ozpin wasback so soon.This is why I shared this musing post talkingabout the Ozma Cycle.

Thenthere is the detail about Oscar and Ozma—the first form, sharing the same VA.This could be just a coincidence here but…again I am sticking to my guns. Mytheory is that Oscaris special. He is meant to be the last life because I think Oscar is one truereincarnation of Ozma.

WhenOzma was first revived, he never got back his original form. Instead it’s been his soul that’s been revived and paired up with the souls ofother chosen warriors throughout the years. Although Ozma’s soul returned timeand time again, his body never did. Or…so we believed.

Iknow this assumption sounds like a stretch however this squiggle meister stubbornly believes that Oscar is the reincarnation of Ozma’s originalform reborn in Modern Remnant. I have watched too many anime overthe years where a character who was another person in a former life gets rebornas someone else in modern time. Although RWBY has brought its own spin toreincarnation with the merging of souls, the thought still remains. It ends where itall began. Ozma was the first. He was the one who started all this. Butthe Gods never granted him back his old body. The unfortunate thing about thecycle is that the Gods had Ozma rope other innocent men and people into his warwith Salem which is where all the guilt and mistakes lie.

Butit began with Ozma so naturally it should be him tofinish it. If Ozma was the beginning then Oscaris the end because Oscar is not like the others. He’s not another life for Ozmato life. He is the last life. Oscar is Ozma. His true reincarnate.

Iknow in a cycle where one man has been paired off with other men to the pointthat we don’t know if it’s either him in control all the time or him plus allthe other men in there, putting all that into consideration, this hunch soundsweird. Buuuuut…dagnabbit, I’m running with it. Even if I have to stand alonewith this theory, I’m sticking with it. You can’t deny that there is somethingvery unique to Oscar’s situation that will set him apart from all the others.

Anotherinteresting detail that I liked that connects Ozma to Oscar is that Ozmasignature colours that he can be seen wearing during his scenes in the LostFable are the colours that correspond to Oscar’s name. Ozma is wearing pine green with oscar gold. Coincidence, I think not.

Ican’t sit by and join the brigade in saying my precious freckled farm boy isgoing to end up just like his predecessors when the very show itself has toldme otherwise. So until then, I’m on the side that believes Oscar will be justfine in Merge and I’m also (probably all by myself) on the side that believesthere will be a twist to Oscar’s story with the Merge. 

The twist that he is Ozma’s trueincarnate. He may not look like it now but I have a feeling as Oscargrows older and matures into a fine, young huntsmen, he’ll begin to resemble Ozma.But y’know, as always, these are just my views.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[haunteyed]

at crossroads

FATES TASK 002: A DREAM THAT FEELS TOO REAL

“ Hekate Einodia, Trioditis, lovely dame, of earthly, watery, and celestial frame, sepulchral, in a saffron veil arrayed, pleased with dark ghosts that wander through the shade; Perseis, solitary goddess, hail! ”

— Orphic Hymn 1 to Hecate (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.)

for the first time in years i woke up with a start, immediately propping myself up. the clock on the wall stared down at me, its constant ticking ominous to me who could barely catch my breath. sweat beaded at my forehead and my hand moved to wipe it away but the unease that had already seeped into my heart could not be so easily removed.

no matter how i tried to shake it off, the feeling of dread was constant. ever since the start of high school, my sleep had always been dreamless. receiving one now would have been inconsequential if not for how so much of it felt like a distant memory; shelved away, forgotten and left to collect dust. until now.

tender-hearted hecate, they called you, who heard persephone and took pity on the sorrowful demeter who had lost her daughter. with a torch in each hand, you kept companion to the distraught goddess in her search.

the concept of reincarnation was never thought to be uncommon. many a time, grandmother spoke fondly of the animals that visited the farm like they were her old friends. the japanese waxwing she showed me when i was seven, she introduced it like it was someone i had met before: the friendly auntie who used to come over to share food. i had attended her funeral years before that. it was a curious thing, i knew the woman had passed on but with little to no persuasion i believed my grandmother.

the cycle of rebirth seemed to be endless, but it seemed to bring relief to those who sought comfort in it.

however, gaining memories of a past life had always felt to me like a bad omen, and to receive ones that were as vivid as mine just felt unsettling. my gaze shifted downward to my empty palms, scrutinising its lines as if i understood the past, present and future it begged to tell. my fingers curled into fists then opened again. what had i held for my pale, soft hands to be such a jarring sight? 

calloused hands blackened by dirt and soot plead for you to remember; in one moment you bore torches and in the next, swords.

the smile that curved my lips upward was bitter and self-loathing. to think of it as a bad omen and yet here i was, trying to remember by virtue of my inane curiosity. i sighed, nestling my face into my open hands. was it mere fantasy conjured up by my wandering imagination, taking influence from the books i chose to read? or was it, as i feared, something more menacing --- a sign that i was cursed? my throat made a dissenting, guttural sound at my own thoughts. for all the knowledge i had accumulated thus far, i was scared.

it scared me that there was a possibility that the person i dreamed about could have been someone i used to be. it scared me that it was the first thing i thought about, all things considered. i couldn’t even think about it logically because my emotions were in such disarray. it scared me because what i had seen felt eerily familiar to me as if someone handed to me videos of my life and forced me to relive those moments.

when persephone was returned from the underworld to demeter, you embraced her again and again like she was your own flesh and blood. and from that moment on, you became minister and companion to persephone.

but if i gave in to the urge to admit easily, if i were to accept that the lady in my dreams was me, then what would happen to my identity now?

what would happen to heidi liu?

the karma i had accumulated in this life, all the things i had held dear to me in my 29 years of living --- what meaning would they have? my fingers gingerly prodded at my face before i was left staring at the darkness of my room once more. at least this body was real, not a dream in a dream. leaning back against the headboard, my eyes turned to the open window. the late-night breeze gently caressed my face; moonlight trickled in through the glass panes, casting shadows of the trees outside. 

i took a deep breath in, then out in an attempt to calm the barrage of questions floating around my mind. emotion was good, but it wasn’t exactly an excellent idea to rely on it just to determine what my dream meant. it was just one dream, think rationally. a gut feeling was one perspective on the subject, logic was another. looking at the big picture was just as important as noticing the details. maybe it was better to decided what to make of it later, after another dream, after gathering more information.

not now. later.

as i reached that conclusion, it felt like there was the briefest of moments of clarity which then quickly disappeared. sighing again, this time out of relief, i stretched out to grab my phone off the nightstand. as shaken up as i was, falling back to sleep was a difficult thing to ask of my body. i quickly unlocked it and dialed the numbers i had memorised by heart, bringing the phone close to my ear.

a part of your soul ached at the decision to sit on the fence, to wait and see. however, it mattered not if it was mere mortal folly, you had never been one to make snap decisions. the fact would always remain that she is you as are you are her.

the other line picked up on the fourth ring, and i smiled out of habit.

“hello? i’m -- yeah, it’s... heidi.”

[zageekyunicorn]

A Servant’s Dream Ch 1 “Going to The Palace”

The sun was slowly sinking over Egypt as I over looked the beautiful capital city of Lower Egypt from the balcony of my new home, the palace where the pharaoh lived; I am his queen. I admired how the people smile at each other, how the people have hope at last, and how the sun's rays glistened over the Nile River as if proving that the bad days are truly gone. As the pharaoh approached me, I smiled at the peace that has finally overcome Egypt and softly laughed at how a few years ago I was nothing more than a low class servant who was affected by the war that brewed between Upper and Lower Egypt. The memories of those years were so vivid that I felt like I was reliving those years all over again. It all began when I was working as a servant at a young age for an implacable middle aged man. He would beat me and yell at me if I didn’t follow his orders to the word. I didn’t like working for him but he was the only one who took me in when I had nowhere else to go to when my family died. I thought this was a punishment from the gods for not being able to take care of my family properly; but one specific day he surprised me. “Mira..!” His voice rang through the house. The house might look small, but when you step inside you will see a different sight; everything is handcrafted and the rooms were fairly big but the most eye-catching view is the garden located behind the house. The palm trees grew tall and large, the grass blanketed the ground, and the flowers covered random areas. “Mira...Come!!” Master yelled again this time furious. I scurried over and bowed down against my will, he doesn’t deserve to have anyone bow down to him, fearing he would beat me again. “My apologies, master; I was cleaning the house,” I spoke while keeping my head down. “Next time you come from the first time I call you. Understood?” He ordered with anger dripping from his mouth. “Yes master,” I simply replied. “I want you to go to the market and buy me a bottle of perfume and oil; they must be of good quality because I am meeting the pharaoh later today. Can you do that or will you screw things up like you always do?” I nodded my head as he gave me a small animal skin pouch filled with a few golden coins and warned me about making a mistake before I ran out of the house towards the busy market. Many people would go to the market to buy or haggle or to socialize; it was a fun spot to be.  Ra’s light was shining brightly in the clear blue sky as I walked through the streets of the village. Usually the streets would be filled with children running around and people rushing towards their destinations; basically livelier but ever since the war everyone preferred to remain home and only leave when it is necessary. I was interrupted from my thoughts when I heard my name being called, “Mira..! Wait up!” A familiar voice echoed through my ears. “Femi..!” I laughed as my close friend ran up to me and hugged me tightly. “I missed you!” She said with a huge grin plastered on her bronze skin. Femi was a good two inches taller than I am with darker skin and darker hair; hers was a dark brown while mine was a lighter shade of brown, and like me, she’s a servant to one of the middle classed families. “How are you Femi?” I asked while we walked together towards the market. “I’d be better if the war was over; it’s so boring staying inside all the time,” she whined like a child. “I know what you mean; my master is becoming more violent by the day,” I smiled. “He didn’t beat you again; did he?” She asked with a sorrowful expression. “Not today; at least not yet.” I was suddenly stopped when Femi grabbed my arm tightly, “I don’t understand you, why don’t you just leave; run away.” I sighed looking at my torn slippers, “I can’t. I owe him. He took me in when I was lost in life.” I whispered before smiling widely. “Besides, think of it that way, this way I’ve secured a place for me in the field of reeds.” Femi just sighed irritably before hugging me again, “I’m sorry for making a big deal out of this but you’re my only friend, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” “I'm not going anywhere, Femi,” I smiled softly and hugged my friend back. Soon enough we were at the market and inside the essence shop searching for a perfume for my master. “We shouldn’t be in this shop; we should be at the farm,” Femi said while looking at the bottles. “Why so?” I asked while smiling at the familiar scent of my master; I have found his perfume. “To get him the scent of sweaty animals mixed with their droppings.” I stifled a laugh before looking at her. “That was not a nice thing to say,” I smiled while thanking the lady owning the store and left to the oil shop. “Whatever. He deserved it,” Femi muttered softly while crossing her arms. After I was done purchasing my master’s things I asked Femi if she had something to do. “Yes, my mistress wanted a new bracelet to wear when she meets the pharaoh today.” “You too!” I said while walking towards the jewelry shop. “Your master is going?” Femi asked and I nodded in reply, “I wonder why?” I asked myself as Femi was done with the jewelry. It took her a while because everything was crafted beautifully; beads and rare stones created into bracelets and necklaces of many colors. We were now walking back and stopped where we were supposed to separate. “I’ll try to see you soon again,” I smiled while hugging Femi. She hugged back tighter and smiled widely, “See you soon then.” We waved at each other before making our separate ways. “You’re late! Can’t you do anything right?!” My master shouted before violently grabbing the bags from my hand and pushing me on the ground. “I advise you to get dressed into something good and clean yourself because you are coming with me,” he said before walking off. Did he just say I was coming with him… to meet the pharaoh? I quickly ran to my very small room and took out the best dress; it was old and belonged to my mother, but it was the best dress I had. I ran towards the watering hole and washed myself the best I could and got dressed. The dress was simple and went well with my skin color for it was a pale blue in color; I wore the sandals that I left for occasions, brushed my hair, and tied my bangs to the back using a ribbon given to me by Femi. “Come on girl! You’ll make me late!” My master yelled. I made my way towards him and we rode a cart towards the palace that is so magnificent, so huge, and so radiant that some people would stop and stare at it in awe.  I can’t believe that I was going to step foot in the place and get to actually meet the pharaoh! We were in front of the palace walls, making our way inside when we were greeted by a priest, judging by his clothes. “Welcome, the pharaoh is waiting for you,” he said in an unemotional tone before leading the way to the throne room. “If you do anything to lower my image I will give you a beating you have never seen in your life; not even Ra can save you,” my master whispered quietly in my ear before we entered through the giant doors leading to the throne room. I was in complete shock at how the palace looked like. I have never dreamt of such beauty in one place. The room was huge with one giant chair in the end of the room; there the pharaoh sat looking at the both of us. “My Pharaoh…” my master said before kneeling down. I copied my master and stepped behind as I looked at the pharaoh for a split second; it was a sign of disrespect to look at a pharaoh in the eye, but I just couldn’t resist! I was taken by the priest to another room so I could not hear what they are saying. It looked like I was in the dining room or something because there was a large table with many chairs. I sat down on the floor because a servant was not allowed to sit on a chair let alone in the pharaoh’s palace, or in anyone’s palace! It wasn’t long when I saw someone coming; I stood up and saw none other than the pharaoh’s son walk up to me. I collapsed on my knees and greeted the heir to the throne. I stayed down until I felt a hand on my chin pulling me up until I faced the pharaoh’s son.

Chapter 2: https://zageekyunicorn.tumblr.com/post/182293983991/a-servants-dream-ch-2-atemu-son-of-mehmet

[shelby77gt]

Just a dream - Shelby needs to be near Dreadwing after a blast from the past.

I was at base when I first found out. I was at one of the armory's checking some weapon equipment I had designed. They had just been brought back from the range, being tested. I got a lot of good remarks on the new equipment. So, I was in a pretty good mood. Now I was just checking them to make sure they were cleaned properly and if they had sustained any damage. I had been in for about 4 years now. I just reenlisted and got assigned to start designing equipment instead of just building it or testing it. It took me 4 years to get to this point. I could not be more excited. My parents seemed to be happy for me, when I told them. They just asked if I could come home more. I hated going home. I was the only one to do something with their life instead of staying at the farm. Why would I want to go back? I never really had a good relationship with any of my siblings or my parents.  But of course, I told them I would try.

As I was in the middle of checking the second to last weapon, got a call from my Staff NCO, telling me to come to regiment immediately. I was very confused. I usually never had to go to regiment. But I did as I was told. I left the last two to one of the lances under me and ran out the building. I quickly made it to my truck and drove fast out of the parking lot. As I pulled into regiment parking, I barely had my truck in park as I jump out of the cab. I made my way in and almost ran into my SNCO. "SARGENT! Thank God your here. Come with me" He tells me. I follow him to the regimental CO's office. It must be something huge if I'm hearing it from the CO. I walk in behind my SNCO, the regimental CO, the company CO, my LT and one of the other Sgt's were standing by the desk. Though the regimental Co was sitting behind it. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand. He looked up quickly as he heard us walk into the room.

"Sgt Bishop, you might want to take a seat." The regimental CO says to me. So, I do as I'm told and I take a seat in front of his desk. I'm nervous now. "I'm afraid I have bad news. And I'm not sure how to tell you this. But..."

*Scene change*

There I am, a week later, at the funeral home, before the actual funeral took place, looking down at a body. Not one body but two. My brothers. The two oldest in the family. You could barely recognize them. I barely listened when they told me how they died. From what I did hear, they were tortured. Why? I don't know. No one is really telling me to much. Probably because they don't know themselves. I'm standing there in my blues, next to me are the rest of my family. They are all in tears. I'm the only one not crying. I don't think I ever did cry for the loss. I knew I needed to stay strong. Especially for my parents.

Fingers were missing. Each were missing an eye. Hair was missing from their scalps. Cuts and gashes and bruises covered their body's. It was a very hard sight to see. One of my brothers had a very large gash, from assuming a large knife, from the top of his thigh running down his leg to his foot. I can't imagine the pain he must of endured. There were rope burns around their wrist and ankles. Digging into their skin, leaving deep cuts. One of my brothers has rope burn around his neck. But the coroner doesn't know if hanging was how he died or blood loss. Their faces didn't look like them anymore. Covered in cuts that haven't been able to properly heal. Black and blue circles formed around their eye sockets.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, but most of all, I wanted to find who did this.

That's the last thing I see.... Then I wake up.

She sat up fast, causing herself to get dizzy for a few second. She was panting, breathing hard and heavy. She felt as though she just relived that moment. She brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Not realizing where she was at that moment. Until she heard a voice come next to her.

"Shelby, are you okay? You were acting weird." She looks over and sees Ratchet, looking at her with worry in his optics.

That's when she realizes that she is laying on the yellow couch in the secret base of the Autobots. She turns away from Ratchet, moving her legs down off the couch. Her elbows on her knees and hands covering her face. Trying to wipe away the tears that were forming.

"Shelby?" Ratchet asks again.

"I'm fine, just a bad dream." She says without looking at him.

"How's Dreadwing?" She asks standing up and finally looking at Ratchet.

"He's in recharge still. It’s the middle of the night, you should go back to sleep." He suggests to the girl. She shakes her head.

"Can I sit next to him?" she asks her eyes pleading to him.

She felt she needed to be near him. Afraid she might have to rebuild him. Even though she only just brought him to life again. She did spend 3 months repairing him. She needed to protect him. Even if he was a giant dangerous Decepticon. Everyone kept telling her to be cautious around him. That he was very dangerous. She has yet to see that side, besides the few times he was scared and yelled at her.

"I don't think that's a good idea, if he wakes and doesn't remember right away who you are, he might hurt you." says Ratchet cautiously looking over at the sleeping giant.

"He won't hurt me." She says confidence ringing though her voice.

"And how do you know that?" The doc scoffs putting his servos on his hips.

"Because I just know." She looks him straight in the optic. He scoffs again but brought his servo up for her to get on. Then he carried her over to Dreadwing and let her get off on top of him. She sat down on his armor that was covering his new power source. Her knees to her chest. Head resting on them. Before Ratchet could leave. "Ratchet?" Shelby calls.

"Yes?" He asks.

"Why are you awake?" She asks the medic. He thinks about it before he answers her.

"I don't usually recharge well anymore. And I was checking on Dreadwing. That's when I started to hear you talking in your sleep." He says turning back to her.

She sat up straight. "What did I say?" Fear could be heard in her voice.

"It was pretty mumbled. But you did scream no, and I heard don't cry. a few times." Ratchet shrugged. Shelby seemed to relax as he talked.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He tone lower than before, moving closer to her.

"No!" She says immediately. He backs up in defense.

"Sorry, it’s just not something I like to talk about." She explains quickly.

"I understand. I am going to try and recharge. I will talk to you in the morning." He tells her and walked off down the hall.

"Just you and me again Dreadwing. I didn't realize how lonely I was until I found you. I'm glad I did find you. I hope you don't go back to Megatron." She whispers to Dreadwing as he recharges. She didn't think he was listening, but with her head down, she doesn't see him peek at her and smile.