tide of return

“The right person at the wrong time” doesn’t exist when you think about her and the impact she has had on your life.
She’s the girl who make you believe in things such as fate and soul mates even. She makes you believe in something bigger than yourself.

The thing she makes you believe in is called love.

Her love is the perfectly imperfect embodiment of the reason why the tide always returns to kiss the shore. Or the reason why the moon is illuminated time after time in the darkness by the sun. They never give up on each other no matter how their paths are separated, they’ll always end up back together, even after all the storms that rage through the skies and the seas.

She made me believe our souls were connected before they fell down to Earth as shooting stars.
That is why there is a gravitational pull, pulling me in her direction.
To throw her away, dismissing her as a wrong time, would be one of your greatest mistakes.

She is a timeless soul because she will live forever within you. Prepare for a burning soul within her presence because you’ll feel her fiercely even after she is long gone.

—  S.S.
dailymotion

The First FOURTEEN MINUTES of Survivor New Zealand, Premiering this Sunday!

After a search of over 8000 applicants around the country, the chosen sixteen castaways are sent to Nicaragua to battle it out for $100,000. On the season premiere, two tribes immediately face the pressure when confronted with a double Tribal Council right off the bat.

40 Days, 16 Castaways, One Survivor!

Oh How the Tides Have Turned

Returning from a short detention, Siri Black was nearing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room when she spotted Jamie Potter standing by the portrait entrance.

Siri: Do you mind sharing your thoughts with the class, Prongs?

Siri: I know he’s willingly been talking to you recently, bu-

Jamie: Yup. He, um, he did.

Both girls stand in silence, individually processing this information.

Siri: I had a feeling it was gonna happen. Come on, I’m gonna go make them pay up now.

Siri: Oh hush you.


Based on this post by the amazing @asklilyluna

Thank you to the incredibly talented and wonderful @egdramaqueen​ for being my Jamie!

i could teach you - taeyong scenario - part three

Lee Taeyong - NCT

words - 3.8k

genre - angst, heartbreaker!au

soundtrack - hey violet, break my heart

parts - 1 / 2 / / 4/ 5 (still ongoing)

Originally posted by xehunted

The buzz that emitted from your pocket drawing your attention away from him. If it was Minyoung, you were not going to answer. After you called her this morning, the memory of her screaming voice was still vividly etched in your mind. That conversation was pure torture – thank god you didn’t tell her about Taeyong or you wouldn’t be breathing right now.

Keep reading

I admit that it took some time for me to embrace the Merle/Davenport ship, but I’m pretty fond of it now.

I see it as something that developed slowly, maybe unexpectedly, but without a lot of discussion or big gestures. Something like a natural and inevitable progression, over time. These two men were the oldest in the crew and felt responsible for all of these people close to them who were so smart and capable but still so young and questioning, struggling and still learning. Because of that sense of responsibility they were in a category of their own among the crew, understood each other in a way that the others didn’t understand them. They were each other’s port in the storm, somewhere safe, someone to talk to, to be vulnerable around because they didn’t have to put up any front of confidence around each other.

And it struck me how appropriate their endings were, in that sense. They’ve gone long periods without each other before, both with Merle’s repeated deaths and the memory loss, but I like to think that what they have endures. It’s a steady connection that can be relied on and returned to. Davenport sails, and Merle lives on a beach. They leave in different directions and they meet again in the middle, at a literal port this time, like the tide. And, like the tide, they always return to where they’ve been.

Beach City Gothic
  • There is a statue carved in to the mountain. You know this. Everyone knows this. You ask, once, who the statue is of. No one knows. There are whispers, hardly spoken. It is a temple. You ask who it is a temple to. No one knows. 
  • A monster attacks the town. You have never seen anything like it. Protectors you have never met step forward and defeat it. They leave before you can thank them. You rebuild what has been destroyed. A monster attacks the town. You have never seen anything like it.
  • There is a boy. His name is Steven. You do not know how you met him. You ask when he came to the town. He has always lived here, someone says, he’s Greg’s son. You think that you have met Greg. You ask where Steven lives. No one knows. No one ever knows. You don’t know anything about Steven. You like him anyways.
  • There is no school. There is never any school. School is out for the summer, they say, but you continue to receive grades. You haven’t been to school. You have never been to school. They continue to send you grades. You’re getting worse.
  • You sit on the beach with your feet in the water. The tide pulls out. You worry that it will not return. The tide returns. It always returns. You don’t remember why you ever worried.
  • The cool kids drive past you. You don’t remember ever meeting them, but you know they are cool. You can’t remember a time when they weren’t the cool kids. You know their names. They do not know yours.
  • You don’t know your name.
  • They are holding the mayoral elections. Mayor Dewey is campaigning. You do not know who he is running against. You do not know if there is someone he is running against. He wins the elections by a landslide. He continues to campaign. He can not stop. There has always been a Mayor Dewey. There will always be a Mayor Dewey.
  • You can not name your parents, but you know that they mean well. They always mean well. You are certain you still live with them, but you don’t know where you live. You do not know your name. You are certain that your parents love you.
  • There are strangers on the pier. They do not look human. You greet them politely and treat them as if they are normal. They are normal. You don’t know why anyone would ever assume otherwise. You think that they are heroes, but you don’t know what they have saved. You treat them with respect anyways.
  • No one ever speaks of the war. You ask someone, once, and they can not remember. The world has always been this strange. There is nothing to fear. You do not ask again.
  • Every day the boats go out to fish. You have never seen them leave or return, only appear and disappear. They return with fish. They always return with fish. You have never seen anyone eat the fish. It is forbidden. You do not know where the fish go.
  • If you walk far enough you will find old places, ruined, full of artifacts. None of them have been blocked off, but you know not to enter. These places are dangerous. It is better to pretend that they don’t exist. 
  • There are lights in the sky that are not stars. Sometimes they grow brighter and fade away. Other times they grow larger. Always larger. Approaching. You do not know when they will arrive.
  • Earthquakes shake the town. There are always Earthquakes.
  • Keep Beach City Weird, the boy says. Beach City has never been weird. Everyone dismisses what he has to say as nonsense. This is normal. Beach City is normal. He never talks to you about the fact you don’t have a name. You wouldn’t know what to say.
  • Steven does something. “Classic Steven”, you say, but you can not remember what makes you say that. You know him. Everyone knows him. He always looks the same. A part of you wonders how. The rest of you replies, “Classic Steven.”
  • One of the strangers is purple. If you look at her long enough, she will shift form. You are not certain she is real. You start to watch other things, waiting to see them shift forms. Most of the time, they do nothing.
  • Half of the games on the boardwalk are out of order. You wait for the repair crew. You are always waiting for the repair crew. You do not know if they can even be repaired, now.
  • There are some plants that you do not go near. You have not seen a Rose in a long time. One day, watermelons are added to the list. You do not know who added it, but no one has eaten watermelons since.
  • They hold a parade each year. You know this. You remember having watched the parade, but you do not know what it is for. You do not know when it is held. No one does. It seems uncertain the parade will ever come. You wait for the parade.
  • There is only one empty lot you have ever seen, and it sits behind the Big Donut. Nothing is ever built there. You do not know who owns the lot, but it is empty.
  • You miss your parents. You aren’t certain when they left, or if they are even gone. You miss them anyways.
  • You are always friendly. You have always been friendly. You accept all of the strangers. Except for the ones who have been run out of town. You do not talk about them, except in rude whispers. What a jerk, you say. You are friendly. You do not want to be run out of town.
  • There are storage units. They do not look large enough to hold much. You walk in to one and you walk. You keep walking. There is no end to the storage units. You could spend your entire life in the storage units. When you finally walk out, you are not to certain as to if you’ve actually left. You do not enter one again.
  • Do not go up to the lighthouse, they tell you. You would go up when you were young, in hordes, and not all of you would come back. You see children playing in the green. You want to warn them, but you are too afraid to get close.
  • The funland amusement park and the funland arcade sit on opposite sides of the town. You tried to walk between them, but you arrived before you started. You do not know where the switch occurs. You do not care.
  • At night you sleep easily. You do not remember the things that should keep you awake at night. Sometimes, in your dreams, you will see Steven. He is not a part of this dream. Classic Steven, you think. You don’t know what anything means.
this is to say, i knew & yet i cannot forgive

This is not what I was promised.
And this is not to say, to cry I was not
warned. I did not know. I was a fool.
I knew the steps well enough,
This graceless dance, our fingers
coming closer and closer until
they are intimate enough to bruise, peach
fuzz skin turned to tart, crushed
berries along the line of our necks, my
heart squeezed until the pit pops out, a virgin birth.

The problem with loving is that you
draw inevitably closer. A moon,
faraway a silver globe floating like in a
soft, cotton dream pulls the
exhausted, but willing tide up until
that ichor shine turns instead to
pockmarks and battered, old skin,
peeling like a sunburn.
In this story, the tide doesn’t return. It is
Too tired. It does not have the
strength, to wash away and scour the
slowly healing wounds, to cleanse and make whole.

& like this; I did not mean to be so
tired. It is only that I asked for a
shelter and received a pile of rubble,
a collapsed tree still damp from life. I
knew that from a distance the tide
too, glitters a hard shine, blue green
blade relentless in its white fury.
With its heart cupped into your hands
like hummingbird wing and sapphire
I waver and become weak. I only wear hardness
like a lace dripping from my
tongue. I knew this, and I knew that distance
blurs the moon until it is that
perfect world once again.
I knew, but let myself believe.

Have the crushed flesh shell of my
past. At least I owe you that, past love.
I must grow anew from this pit, grooved and lined, natural
imperfection.

/// tidewinds

We could always swim, we were just afraid to leave the shore, scared to be another tide returning to familiarity. Maybe prayers do grow gardens, we just learned how to nurture the thorns more than the rain. It hurts more to feel you breathing in sentences that are pushing out my name. that’s all this is - words we should be saying to the sun, yet we keep getting tied up in the present. I hold onto my hurt because I feel like it’s the only part of me I have left. I apologize for every smile because happiness is a currency I never have enough of. I wake up lonely because this silence holds too much space to grow hands. One thing is for sure - you are meant for better things.
—  Broken
Fic: Grief is the price we pay for love

A/N:  A little one shot that has been sitting half finished on my laptop for years, that I’ve dusted off and done because 2017 is the Year of Finishing Unfinished Fics.  Post-FOTJ, Luke Skywalker and Ben bonding and grieving and hashing things out because damn they really needed to.


Luke had never felt at ease on Coruscant.  It had been Mara’s home for so many years, her bones were made of steel and chrome, the lights of the city reflected in her eyes, and she could disappear into a crowd like the tide returned to the sea.

He still thought about her in the present tense, as if unable to relegate her to the past.  She was gone, and yet he felt as if she was beside him always.  She’d gravitated to rooftops; whenever he’d wanted to find her he’d only have to look for the highest possible nearby point and she’d be there, in quiet contemplation with the sky.  In her absence he’d found himself doing the same, and had to admit the city was more tolerable from above.  The buzz and bustle was muted, the oppressive sense of millions of life forms was kept at bay, and from a distance the patchwork of lights lost their glare. Of course Luke always found himself drawn to the beauty of the natural world, which on Coruscant left only red and pink hues of the sky.  But he didn’t mind - he’d always liked sunsets. 

His peace was disturbed by heavy footsteps, and Luke looked over to see his son crossing to rooftop to where he sat on the ledge, leaning against the wall.

“Hey, Dad.”  Ben sat down next to him, swinging his legs over the edge of the roof.  Luke nodded in answer, his son always welcome to join him, although his instincts tended towards action over reflection and so he rarely did.  Even having just sat down he was unable to keep from moving entirely, drumming his heels against the duracrete wall in a staccato beat      

“Were you thinking about Mom?” Ben asked as he looked out over the city Luke had been musing over.  

“What makes you say that?” Luke wondered if his son had felt where his thoughts were dwelling, or if it was because Ben was thinking of her also.  Turning back to the horizon, Luke felt the setting sun pinch his eyes.  “A little.”  His thoughts often strayed to her.  What she would have said in a Council meeting, how she would have reacted to some event or another, what pointed remark she would have thrown his way when he said something stupid.  It was impossible not to think about her.  

They’d had a nice little family; Luke, Mara and Ben.  Not perfect by any means, they’d had their differences, but they’d been so bound together by mutual love that Luke’s heart had never been so full as when they were all together.  He and Ben had butted heads the most, but Mara had been there to ground them both, a constant reminder of the affection beneath any conflict.  Quite contrary to the attitude of her youth, she had become a peacemaker.      

But then she had died and he and Ben had flailed, like two sides of a triangle unable to fully connect to one another without the third, vital dimension.  And yet it had forced them to grow closer, to accommodate one another without Mara as intermediary.  The odyssey of the past year had brought them closer still, and Luke finally felt he was near to having the relationship with his son he had always craved.

“Everyone acts like they need to remind me of her,” Ben spoke into the dwindling light.  “They’re always telling me that I sound like her, or what she would have thought about something.”  Ben stilled his legs, the beat he’d been drumming out stopping abruptly.  “I mean, I like to hear about her,” he added.  “But…only when I ask, you know?”  

Luke looked at his son, already a man at seventeen.  His face only held a hint of boyishness; his hair, once brilliantly red, had settled to a more sedate auburn as a consequence of the time they’d spent cooped up on the Jade Shadow .  His built was slight and compact, as Luke’s was, but he was no longer an ill-proportioned teenager growing into his limbs.  He was fully grown, in body if not in mind.    

He sometimes wondered if it had been a mistake to make Ben a Jedi Knight so young.  Luke had been so proud of his maturity and growth, and it had seemed the logical step to take to reward his son who had already accomplished so much in the face of great odds.  Ben had been the one to talk sense into Luke following Mara’s death, and had shown not only prodigious skill in the Force but a keen determination that Luke recognised as similar to his own.  In his pride perhaps he had overlooked Ben’s youth, and yet he’d been acutely aware that his boy hadn’t had much of a childhood.  As a baby he’d already felt more pain and death through the Force than most did in a lifetime, he’d been conscripted into a war barely into his teens, had been brainwashed and almost dragged to the dark side by the only person he’d opened himself up to, and had spent the years since trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of conflict.      

At seventeen Luke had been fixing vaporators.  His son had fought monsters.

It was a battle that had left him scarred, and now when he looked at Ben he saw the child inside he’d been ignoring for so long.  Luke realised had been so consumed with relating to Ben man to man that he forgot his son was still a boy who had lost the mother he adored to the cousin he had worshipped.  And that boy needed comfort and commiseration.  

“People are always saying how sorry they are for me,” Luke said, knowing Ben was perhaps the only one who would understand.  “ I’m sorry for your loss, Master Skywalker .  That’s what they say – as if I misplaced her in my robes.”  

“They’re always telling me great she was,” Ben added, looking down at his hands, “but I know that, I’m not going to forget.”

“People don’t always know what to say,” Luke counseled him.  “They want to make you feel better, and even though they know they can’t they still need to try.”

“Yeah, sometimes I feel like I end up comforting them .” The barest hint of a smile appeared, and Ben shook his head slightly.  

“That’s because you have a good heart Ben,” Luke said, reaching out to pat his son’s shoulder.  “And you understand that we weren’t the only ones who loved her.”

He sometimes wondered if Mara was out there watching them, and whether she was surprised at just how much she’d touched other people’s lives.  She’d probably be annoyed that she’d been so unsuccessful at keeping people at a distance, and it made Luke smile to think that despite his wife’s best efforts to cultivate only a small group of loved ones, the impact of her death had been felt far beyond their family.  

“I talk to her sometimes,” Ben said softly, and the way his mouth twisted on the words reminded Luke so much of Mara his heart felt fit to break again.  

“I talk to her too.”  He leaned back against the wall, bending a knee and propping up his foot on the edge of the roof.  

“I wonder what she’d say about that,” Ben smiled wryly, but also looked relieved. 

Luke considered for only half a moment.  “She’d probably say that we were both being lunk-headed and that we should talk to each other instead.”

“Yeah, probably,” Ben laughed, and ran a hand through his hair and seemed to relax.  “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Smashball’s always a safe topic,” Luke suggested.  “But I suppose that’s the point.”

“Not that safe,” Ben said with a grin, “with the way the Dreadnaughts have been playing.”

Luke chuckled lightly, but caught Ben’s eye.  “After years with your mother I can recognise a classic deflection technique.”

His son stared back at him, the quirk of a smile on his face as he inclined his head in acknowledgement.  “I learned from the best, and it wasn’t Mom.”

Luke couldn’t deny it - he had Ben rarely talked about Mara, but when they did he always tried to keep it light, to impart some fond memory of the time they’d all had together, an inadequate attempt to claw back Mara’s part in their trinity as if that would help he and Ben to grow closer.  More often than not, he changed the subject as quickly as possible, but now understood that Ben needed more from him - something he’d never told anyone else.  

“When I was in the Lake of Apparitions, I saw her again,” Luke said softly, looking out where the sun had almost dipped below the horizon.  “Abeloth was dead, but I’d been injured in the battle.”  His hand came up unconsciously to the wound in his chest which still ached on occasion.  “I was ready to die, Ben.  To sink beneath the waters and be with your mother again.”

“But she wouldn’t let you.” Ben’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.  

Luke swallowed heavily, remembering the strength of her beneath him in the waters, refusing to let him give up.  “No.”

“Did she say anything?” Ben asked plaintively, and when Luke turned back there was pain etched deep into his young face.  His meaning was clear - did she say anything about me ?

“She said not yet ,” Luke told him.  “I’m sorry, Ben, I forgot about you, about all my responsibilities, all I wanted was to be with her again.  But she didn’t.”  He smiled to himself at the memory.  “She said too bad , and sent me back.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.”  Ben looked at him with large blue eyes that so often seemed like a mirror.  “I’m glad she did,” he said, a catch in his voice.  “I don’t…know what I would do if I lost you too.”

Luke felt his heart ache with Ben’s bare confession.  He’d always thought his son so strong, and in those moments in the Lake of Apparitions he hadn’t even thought what making Ben a true orphan would mean.  He’d been so tired, worn down by the battle which seemed to have been raging his whole life, taking him apart piece by piece.  But Mara had known - protecting Ben had always been her first priority, even in death.  

“I know I haven’t always made it easy for you,” Ben continued, looking down at his hands and nervously drumming his heels again.  “Spent most of my life trying to prove that I was better than you, or at least just as good.  But you were right Dad.  About Ves.”  He cleared his throat, hands clenching into fists.  “I mean Vestara.  There was no hope for her.”

The words struck Luke painfully.   He’s more machine now, than man.  Twisted and evil.  They had been words spoken to him long ago; words of finality and resignation.  Words he had chosen not to believe.  

Maybe I’m too set in my ways to believe that someone who was born Sith, raised Sith, and grew up surrounded by Sith can set that aside enough to become a Jedi.

They were Luke’s words only recently, his refusal to see past the corruption in another, to believe that they could renounce the dark.  

When had he stopped believing in redemption?  Perhaps when the Vong rampaged through the galaxy, slaughtering thousands and bending planets to their will.  Perhaps when there had been one conflict after another, the Killiks and the Swarm War, the Second Galactic Civil War, Abeloth.

Perhaps when the nephew whom he had dearly loved had turned his son into an assassin and brutally murdered his wife.  

And yet…there had been some good left in Jacen.  Perhaps not enough for him to save himself, but it had been there, the love for his daughter enough to reach out to her with his dying breath, rather than take his sister’s life.  In the end, Jacen had won, and Caedus had been destroyed.    

“No, Ben,” Luke shook his head.  “I was wrong - I forgot the lessons I learned when I was young.”

He’d become just like Obi-Wan before him, beaten down by years of anguish that he’d only seen hope in death, rather than love.  It had been the guiding principle of his life, and yet he’d dismissed it, driven by fear for losing his son too, and suspicion of those who may take him away.

“Everyone describes the dark side as a fall,” Luke mused, thinking of his father, of Jacen, even young Vestara.  “But you cannot fall forever - eventually you have to hit the bottom, and you either stay there, or you climb back up.  So, there’s always hope.  They always have the choice - and the way back may be steep, but it is never barred, not completely.”

Ben sniffed, clearly trying to hold his composure as he stared out where the last rays of sun were filtered through the steel towers of the city.

“I wanted to save her,” he said, his voice tight.  “Like you did for Mom.”

Luke sighed – in many ways Ben was a child, still.  “I didn’t save her, Ben,” he explained softly.  “She chose the path of light herself.”

“Yeah, because of you,” Ben insisted, turning his head and nodding towards him.  “She told me.”    

Luke looked at his son quizzically.  He had always known Mara to be brutally honest and willing to give no quarter.  Except, it seemed, with her son.  Although Luke knew he had helped Mara realize the truth about her service to the Emperor, she of all people would have insisted that her failures were her own, and therefore so were her successes.

But how could she explain to her son that when she first met his father, she wanted to kill him; that it took time for hate to fade to begrudging respect held in check by cool indifference, and years for that to turn to an unconventional and prickly friendship, and finally, to love?

Perhaps she couldn’t.  Perhaps their journey had been too difficult to explain to a child who had only known his parents deeply in love.  So she had embellished and softened the story.  Quite uncharacteristically, she had made it romantic.

And perhaps there had been a glimmer of truth there.  Perhaps they had been drawn to one another since the day she’d found him floating in deep space.  Perhaps a part of her choice to serve the light had been because of him; because of that connection they had denied for so long, but he now knew had been there the moment they’d met.    

It was difficult for Luke to consider the matter objectively.  The love he had for her was so strong it seemed he had always felt that way, even though he remembered the other women in his life.  Callista and Ankanah, consumed by Abeloth, Gaeriel Captison and Jem, many years dead.  He had loved them also, and yet they had not been the other half of his soul as Mara had.  He promised Callista he’d save her, and still had that lingering affection which had given weight to the promise, but the devotion he’d once felt for her had long paled in comparison.  

“All I can tell you is that you’ll love again,” Luke said finally.  “And maybe it will hurt just as much, but that’s part of being alive.”

“Do you think you’ll love again?” Ben challenged him, lifting his chin in the way he always did when provoked.

Luke’s hand came to rest over his heart again almost unconsciously.  The wound he’d sustained should have ended his life, his insides all but torn from his chest by Abeloth’s tentacles.  Then again, he should have died fifteen years earlier when Shirrma’s amistaff had struck him in almost the same spot, but Mara had been there to heal him with her tears, as she had been there in the Lake of Apparitions, refusing to let him sink.  A part of Mara had lived within him since the caves on Nirauen when the Force had bound them together, until the day she’d died and half of his heart had been ripped away with her.

He wondered whether the wound from Abeloth had not killed him because what she’d carved from his chest had been empty anyway.

*

Ben watched his father, his quick pique as always fading into regret.  Luke was far away, staring unblinking and unseeing at a spot above Ben’s shoulder.  It happened from time to time.

“I’m sorry,” he said nervously, a twinge of worry that his father’s silence was due to anger.  It had been a presumptuous and unfair comparison, and he had wanted to take back the words as soon as they had left his mouth.  “I know that Ves and I…it wasn’t anything like what you had with Mom.”

“It’s alright Ben,” Luke reassured him, his eyes clearing as his gaze returned to his face.  “I was just thinking.”  He was silent for a few moments more, before answering; “I guess I don’t know.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Ben said, albeit somewhat grimly.  “I want you to be happy, Dad.”

His father smiled, and it almost seemed indulgent.  “Thank you Ben, but at the moment it’s something I can’t imagine even thinking about.”

Despite himself, Ben was relieved.  “Well, for when you are,” he said, sweeping his hand in a nonchalant gesture.  “If.”

“Well I’ve told you something,” Luke said, bring the conversation back.  “It’s your turn.”

“What do you want to know?”  Ben was happy to play his part, it was only fair after what his father had told him.  

“Well I know that you feel partly responsible for your mother’s death,” Luke said.  “But I don’t know why.”

Ben was surprised by the question, not only because he found it hard to believe Luke didn’t know the truth, but that he would ask him at all.  He was silent for a while, looking out at the horizon where the sun had fallen, leaving them with the glowing lights of the city.  

“Because of Gejjen,” Ben said finally, the name that still haunted him.  “I was the one who killed him, in cold blood, because I was asked to.  I knew it wasn’t right, and I still did it, and afterwards…I woke up to what I was doing, who I was becoming.  But I was too scared to tell you.”

“But you told your mother.”  Luke’s voice was soft, and full of understanding

“That’s why she took off after Ja-.”  Ben cleared his throat and looked down at his hands.  “Caedus.”  He didn’t deserve to be thought or spoken of as Jacen anymore, not after everything he’d done.  

“It wasn’t your fault Ben,” Luke assured him.  “I don’t know if there’s any way we could have avoided tragedy - he could have killed you instead, and I know your mother would trade her life a thousand times over for yours, just like I would.  It’s a parent’s prerogative.”

He knew that, intellectually, he knew his mother was fiercely protective of him, that she would have gone after Caedus at some stage anyway, but it was far too easy to draw a line between events, with himself at the epicentre.  

“And Gejjen?”

“It’s something you have to learn to live with, Ben,” Luke said, but his voice was kindly.  “All you can do is follow the right path now, and one day learn to forgive yourself.”  

Perhaps that was partly why he’d been so desperate to bring Vestara to the light, perhaps he’d wanted someone to walk that path with him, knowing how close he’d come to the dark under Caedus’ influence.  But in doing so he’d treated her badly, he hadn’t shown the compassion the understanding his father had once shown his mother - he’d fallen far short of the example of both his parents.  

“You know Ben, I was always so happy that you were close to your mother,” Luke said drawing is attention again.  “But if we’re being honest with each other, I can’t deny that it hurt a little that we weren’t as close.  And I’m not saying that’s right, or justified,” he added before Ben could interrupt.  “But that’s how I felt.”

Ben had known that, and also knew it was an old wound, long since covered by other, more painful scars.  His father had always seemed like this incredible being, impossible to live up to no matter how desperately Ben wanted to.  Perhaps that was why Mara had told Ben that Luke had saved her – knowing that Ben’s own relationship his father was strained and that he feared disapproval.  Perhaps it had been Mara’s way of telling Ben that she’d done much worse in her life, and yet Luke had not only accepted her, but loved her unconditionally.

“It’s not that I didn’t love you, Dad,” he explained himself.  “But Mom…understood.  I just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

Luke was clearly hurt by the answer, his browns coming together and a pain in his eyes.  “I never wanted you to feel like that, Ben.”

“I know,” Ben nodded.  “It wasn’t anything you did, it’s just who you are - the great Luke Skywalker - you can’t escape that.”

“Mara was always pretty good at helping me forget.” Luke smiled wistfully, looking at that place beyond again.  “She always made me feel just like anyone else, always willing to puncture my ego if necessary.”

Ben thought about the past year they’d spent together, how much his father had come alive when he’d joked with him, how they’d felt like any other father and son on a family trip rather than a journey through exile.

“Well, you know if you want someone to point out your mistakes, I’m your man,” Ben said with a grin.  “Starting with that haircut, it’s at least twenty years out of date.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Luke said dryly, “and make sure we take a stylist on our next trip.”

“Promise me no immortal, soul-sucking tentacle monsters and I’m there.”

“With our luck next time there’ll be two,” Luke smiled, leaning over to punch Ben lightly in the shoulder.

“One for each of us then,” Ben gave an answering grin.  “Looking forward to it.”

*

It felt good to laugh and joke with his son again, to help shake off the sadness that was always there under the surface.  But this time Ben didn’t use the moment to deflect, he quickly sobered again, looking out into the dark sky above the glow of the city.  

“Tell me something about Mom I don’t know.”

Luke was surprised at the question.  Ben was blessed with a near-eidetic memory, and so probably recalled much about his mother that Luke did not.  And yet Luke had the advantage of time - he’d been married to Mara for seven years before Ben had been born, and had known her for ten years before that.  

“I can’t remember the last words she ever said to me,” Luke began after a moment’s thought.  “I’ve tried to, but it escapes me no matter how long I’ve meditated on it, and search for the answer.  But I remember the first - when she was working for Karrde and sensed me through the Force - she saved me, all the while thinking that she would kill me when she got the chance.”

Ben’s interest was clearly piqued.  “What did she say?”

“It was over the comm, she said: unidentified starfighter, this is the freighter Wild Karrde.  Do you need assistance ?”

“Ah.”  Ben looked almost disappointed.  

“Hardly profound, or even memorable,” Luke conceded.  “And yet I do remember it, like it was yesterday.  Funny how the mind works, at the time I would have had no reason to store than moment away, and never thought about it until after she died but there it was, as if it had been waiting thirty years for that moment, when I needed it.”

“Maybe it was more profound than you think,” Ben suggested, shifting his position to face Luke fully.  “I mean, you did need her assistance, beyond the kind she was offering in that moment.”

“I suppose I did,” Luke said softly, surprised by Ben’s insight.  “I still do, really.”

“You have me.”  A muscle twitched Ben’s cheek.  “I know it’s not the same, but I’m here for you Dad.  Like you’ve always been for me, even when I didn’t understand or appreciate it.”

Luke rose to his feet, taking Ben’s hand and pulling him up and into a firm embrace.  “I know, son,” he said, holding him tightly.  “Thank you.”

When he pulled away, he cupped Ben’s cheek in one hand, like he used to do when the boy was small.  There were tears in his son’s eyes, and he felt the tremor through the Force that he didn’t try to conceal.  

“I heard someone say once that grief is the price we pay for love,” Luke said.  “It may surprise you, Ben, to know that I once thought that price was too high, and decided to close myself off.  Your mother of course told me what an idiot I was being, and said that I should never let my fear of losing anyone prevent myself from getting close to them.  She gave me the courage to love her, and I am forever thankful for that.”

He swallowed heavily, the pain of his loss always there, ready to overtake him but kept at bay.  “Even when those fears were realised, I knew that she was right, because I wouldn’t trade a single second of those happy moments I had with Mara to spare myself the pain now.”

“Me either.”  Ben sniffed but managed a smile.  “I just miss her.”

Luke embraced him again, and for perhaps the first time they shared their grief together, sorrow mingling through the Force.  But somehow it the burden was shared, and therefore lighter to carry.  Luke promised himself that he would make an effort to share more with Ben, to let his son know the woman she’d been before they were blessed with him, and in turn hope to hear some of Ben’s memories.  Mara was still there, he realised, connecting them them blood and time and infinite love.  

Ben pulled away and ducked his head, wiping his nose with his sleeve.  “Are you coming to Aunt Leia’s?” he asked.  “You know how she gets when we’re late.”

“In a few minutes,” Luke told him, needing a little while longer to himself.  “I’ll see you there.”

“Okay,” Ben smiled and nodded.  “I…love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Ben,” Luke told him.  “More than anything.”

He watched his son walk away, his step seeming a bit lighter.  Luke turned back to the city beyond the roof, and the stars beyond that.  The light breeze touched his face and brushed back his hair almost like a caress, and Luke spoke his wife’s name into the night, thinking of his son’s words.

He knew that he would never love another like he had loved Mara, but did that mean he would never love again at all?  Luke knew that Force willing he could live for another fifty or sixty years – and that was a long time to be lonely.

And yet he wasn’t alone.  Luke again pressed his hand to his chest, over his heart, and knew that he’d been wrong, before.  It was as full as it had ever been.

Mara was still there, inside of him.  She lived on in Ben.  Her saw her in his niece, the Sword of the Jedi who moved so much like her in battle, style and technique she’d picked up from her Master, and in so many others Mara had taught, or lives she had touched.  But mostly she lived on in his mind, in the Force which had formed an irrevocable connection that could not be severed even by death, reminding him of the truth.

If grief was the price one paid for love, then memory was the reward.

She waits for him at the water’s edge, waves lapping at her ankles. She, like the tide ebbed and flowed, showing up like clockwork as the moon began to climb into the inky murk that was the sky. Waits, she waits and every night she would call for her love.

Some think she’s a ghost, pale as moonlight, something ethereal about her.

There was something magical about the evening, the beach like a ghost town, heart hammering so loudly against the curve of her ribcage that she knew he could sense it—sense her.

And then he would come, slithering and crawling, beaching himself against the sand, writhing mass of tentacles and pulling himself up by his arms.

“ C̲̫̞ l̛̻̗̭̘̟͕ ę̼ a̬̘͈̳̫ ” He would rasp, voice hoarse from disuse.

“Stephen.” She would greet, before leaning down to kiss her love.

And they would spend the night there upon that beach, curled into each other until the moon began to descend once more and he too, like the tide would return to the sea.

                        ↪ Alizarine King  Aesthetics for @abz-j-harding

i. 

the elegance of two loves 

                     pressed together, running dry from her amaryllis hands 

     she pulls into the sky her memory, 
redshot, pulsed, heavy with the ochre of night 

no more mighty than her irascible tendency to falter backwards 


ii. 

i am dropping seaweed on your back. it is may. it is the Ever here, all grey and struck with the scars of a thousand mornings. the television hurts up all the currents moving through an elegiac house. 

in every lake’s reflection, your eyes blur into a black line. i wonder what that means. i wonder why you never smile when we’re together. some answers aren’t worth holding. go back, go back. 

iii. 

the third. her honeyed crown 
     crumbles at the last beat. 

i hold up my hands 
     to receive an offering of ash. 

of ash, of finality, 
    of an unattended tomb. 

keep going, the colors run, 
    you remember how we got here. 

iv.

be softer. the heart is crude. the tide returns, 
bringing buried secrets. –and you, in all, in all. 

From the sea on which they sailed
they were cast ashore
Stranded
Distance between measured
in mere yards
But in their state
yards totally impassable
They say time & tide
wait for no man
But wait is all they can
Until the tide returns their sea
And blissfully they’re reunited
Once more
Bobbing along happily

—- picture is Lytham, UK today
One day, one rhyme- Day 821 'Jaxx'

Jaxx is a planet with two moons
That fight over his seas.
High tide marks in the afternoons
Can cover up whole trees,
But trees on Jaxx are clever things
And they’ve learned how to cope-
Each tree picks its roots up and brings
Them farther up the slope.
These moving forests seem quite strange
To those who on Earth stay,
But people on Jaxx see this change
Come twice every day.
The tide lowers and they return
To replant in the sand,
Back where they were ‘ere their adjourn
In manner almost bland.
Two moons make the nights rather bright,
It’s hard for owls to see
And so nocturnal creatures might
Go hungry frequently.
But good old Jaxx has up his sleeves
A way this wrong to right,
And so a shady web he weaves
To darken up the night.
During the day this web he stows
So that the sun shines free,
But as to where this dark web goes
You’ll have to wait and see.

Nothing is ever truly lost
The world is like the tide
Returning, for an instant, to the place it occupied before
Or leaving that same place once more
Celebrate, then, for what you lose shall be returned
Smile, then, for all good deeds you do shall be visited upon you
Weep, then, for all ills you do shall return to you
Or your children, or your children’s children
What is reaped is what is sown.
What is sown is what is reaped.
—  Robert Jackson Bennet, “City of Stairs”

anonymous asked:

I'm kinda worried we won't get many Ross and Demelza scenes next season. 😭with ross going to London, doesn't Demelza stay behind for the majority of the time. It sucks, because they're the most interesting part of the story for so many people and we only have a couple seasons left. Didn't she only go to London once with him in the books over the course of a couple years? I was hoping we'd get to see them work on their marriage next season.

I wouldn’t worry too much, anon. Though Ross is away quite a lot, he’s also at home a lot, and most of his time in London is basically skimmed over or omitted all together. The Angry Tide starts with him returning after a period of months in London, so I assume what we’ll get in s4 is him going at the end of one episode, and coming back at the beginning of another. Things like that. And yes, she goes to London with him once, but it’s a big deal - it’s not something that’ll be confined to the smallest part of one episode. Or at least, I hope not!

He is in Cornwall a lot, they are together a lot, they are still the focus of the story. There’s other stuff that happens, particularly with Drake and Morwenna and with Dwight and Caroline, but Ross and Demelza get plenty of pages together.

We all come from the sea, but we are not all of the sea. Those of us who are, we children of the tides, must return to it again and again, until the day we don’t come back leaving only that which was touched along the way. Frosty Hesson