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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (17/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The most difficult part for Levi was picking the best place to read.

His first choice was the oval. It was almost summer though and Levi was familiar enough with the timeline to know training must have started already. The last thing he wanted to do was run into old teammates and be forced to maintain some inkling of a conversation.

His second choice was the library. And it wasn’t a bad choice. For a while, Levi had settled on one of the desks at the corner of the library, far from cramming students or students looking for a convenient place to cool off. Seats on the corner didn’t have wide windows though and the artificial light and the artificial chill of the room had turned out to be distracting.

It was only a few pages in did Levi realize, he would have preferred some green around him and the heat of late spring wasn’t so bad. He started to wonder why he had even considered reading indoors in the first place.

He had ended up wasting a good fifteen minutes only to fall back to where he had parted ways with Hange anyway.

In front of the science building.

Hange was inside one of the empty classrooms defending her final thesis. Levi sat on one of the benches to the corner of the building, closing his eyes tight as if that would have been enough to make out the voices inside the building.

Others came to watch and he was sure of that. He had seen Erwin on the way in. Nanaba and Mike had waved at him, asking if he’d be coming inside.

Levi decided against it long before and maybe Hange would have preferred it that way too. After all, she must have left him that particular manuscript before entering the building for a reason. He read the title page, neatly printed in a very much readable and professional font.

Although it had looked like one with the thick cover and the hard binding, as soon as Levi opened the first page, the small title on the upper left had him speechless yet very much convinced.

It wasn’t her thesis manuscript.

To: Captain Levi

Captain Levi. How long had it been since he heard that name and that title? Hange had called him that months before. He had remembered writing about him. The words on the page, Hange's voice, Kuchel’s voice and his own voice all mentioning those same two words in succession had happened, he was sure of that much.

The circumstances though with each memory had blurred into each other one by one and he liked to attribute it to his hermit tendencies the succeeding months after his injury.

Life had been different since then. He had gone back to face to face classes. He had been working on his thesis. Hange had been working on her own thesis too. And they were both just too busy trying to graduate on time given the chaos of the first semester.

He stared at the title page for a few more seconds pondering that chaos, possibly trying to reach for something behind that haze to no avail. The only thing he was able to grasp then had been a bout of nostalgia.

And the nostalgia was more than enough to get him in the mood to read. He chalked up the small stint in the library to a test run and started again from the beginning.

Hange Zoe was born to a rich family within the Walls of Wall Sina…

Hange had taken great pains to describe everything from the cobblestone streets to the crystal-like bricks that lined the walls of the elegant buildings. The bricks shone with a unique glint and that alone had been enough for Hange to waste one paragraph on it.

She then used up another few paragraphs talking about the stifling life within the walls and her own curious nature.

If there’s something you don’t understand, go out and learn to understand it.

Living within the walls wasn’t in her nature so she ran away. She joined the survey corps. She was drawn to the outside world, drawn to titans.

So she became a researcher.

Levi didn’t notice it at first. Although his brain had been able to partition those few early events on the timeline, eventually the words started to shift, blur into one another and he found himself scanning through the paragraphs much quicker than usual.

He knew that much about squad leader Hange Zoe. He knew she hyper fixated on titans. He didn’t need vivid descriptions of Sonny and Bean nor did he need detailed descriptions of the outside world, the guns, the war or even her theories on the rumbling.

She had already told him everything then in the forest. She had told it to him back then in the office. Before he even knew it himself, he was flipping through the pages much faster. Suddenly his mind was pushing him to look out for certain things as he read.

There was something else he was looking for, between the lines of the descriptive narrations of Hange Zoe’s life.

“Maybe we should just live here together right Levi?”

Levi found the quote three pages before the back cover, towards the upper left of the page. He found himself running his left hand up to the corner of the page, slipping that corner between his two fingers, pressing on the ink on paper, just to make sure it wouldn’t so easily smudge with touch. Maybe it might even disappear like some sort of an illusion.

He just had to make sure it was real.

Hange’s exposition on sceneries was exhaustive. They were clear and vivid and they covered everything to the most granular bits of the large painting in his mind. If Levi closed his eyes, he was sure he would see the forest then.

Although Hange’s descriptions were detailed, comprehensive, enough to paint easy pictures in his head, they were far from introspective.

She had taken great pains to describe the darkness, the crackling campfire and the rough gashes of his face but she didn’t talk much about how it felt. Maybe it was up to the reader to contemplate them.

So Levi filled in the blanks, he filled the spaces between the lines with emotions, musings, ponderings. He couldn’t be too sure yet whether they were his or hers though, so he trudged on aimlessly as he read.

Everything happened in fast forward from there. Although Hange never left his side when she could, she was still fighting, suddenly she was strategizing.

Of course she would, she was a commander. He was just an injured soldier.

There was another quote, towards the last page on the upper right and Levi found himself running his pointer finger through it and he pressed on it hard, hard enough to crumple the pages of that corner. He ran his nail through it leaving a noticeable crease before he closed the binder and took a deep breath.

Dedicate your heart.

Just like every other page, there was no introspection into the character that made Hange Zoe, only words, more words then vivid descriptions of everything that happened after.

He didn’t need white spaces between the lines to figure it out for himself. Even if the pages had all been black, save for the words and the emotions they evoked, he felt it then like a weight.

But he shook it off, opened the book once again and continued to read.

Hange flew up. She fought titan after titan. And the fight had ended with her burning up in the air with the one last quote below.

“Titans really are incredible.”

Levi had half the mind to close the book again there, except that time, with no intention of reopening it. If he didn’t hyper fixate on that last sentence towards the end of the page, towards Commander Hange Zoe’s last words, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed the faded grey at the back of the last paragraph.

It was particularly noticeable on the white, between the lines of paragraphs. Once again Levi played with the creases just to make sure he hadn’t missed it. It was the last page, he was sure.

There was something written on the other side of the page. As much as it had ached to read on, Levi willed himself to flip the page.

It was empty, a blank white page. Fortunately, Levi was desperate enough to stare at it a little longer and he soon realized, he was focused on the center, somehow he had expected to find some sort of resolution there.

Hange had left the last line towards the upper left corner.

See you later Hange. Watch over us. Next to it was a shabbily drawn airplane and unlike all the other pages, it was smudged. The ink had blotted, sending light streaks of gray towards the right in such a predictable manner, Levi could almost imagine the way she had held the crease of the corner between her finger tips.

Once again, he shifted the weight of the page, moving his thumb and his pointer to that corner, reproducing the motions of how she must have messed up something so simple. It was easy to imagine and Levi found himself smiling.

Below it, towards the lower part of the page, he saw it. It was written with the same gel pen that bled through the other side of the page.

There were so many things I wanted to tell you but I never got the chance.

“Then why didn’t you say it? You had ten pages to say it.” Hell, you had five years to say it.

The next line read as if Hange had already predicted what he was going to say next.

I was the commander. You were the captain. We had a war to fight.

But you know, I thought when everything ends, once we retire I could let you know.

In a moment of dissonance, Levi started to wonder who those words were for. For all he knew, he could have been telling her the same thing.

Even if you don’t remember, I hope you at least felt it.

Please remember. Even if I wasn’t able to tell you anything, even if I couldn’t stay by your side.

I was watching you until the end.

Commander Hange Zoe

“Commander Hange Zoe,” Levi said it out loud a second time. Those words were ambrosia to his lips and he probably mouthed it a few more times as he stared at the blue sky above him.

Levi let his shoulders fall and he looked back down at the binder. He didn’t even notice he had closed it. “There were so many things I wanted to tell you too.”

You said it already. Commander Hange heard you. The answer came as a whisper. A quiet whisper that blew into his ear, caressing his neck.

And it had him jumping on his seat. “What the fuck Hange.”

“Are you done being sad already?”

“Why would I be sad?”

“Because Commander Hange Zoe died and you were staring at the sky like this for a good few minutes.” Hange let her head fall back playfully and Levi could have sworn he didn’t look like that. When she looked back at him a second later, she gave a knowing smile, an almost mocking smile.

That was enough to get Levi a little abrasive. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was watching you,” Hange said. “You looked like you were concentrating so…”

“I was.”

“So I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You could have announced your presence like a normal person at least, maybe drop a greeting?”

“I had to look for you and you weren’t answering your phone then I got impatient.” Hange seemed unperturbed. “Come on, I’m treating you guys out to dinner.”

Levi opened his phone to see an hour had passed since he last checked the time and beneath it five missed calls, all from Hange. On the upper right of his phone, the silent mode sign flashed like some sort of reminder. “I was in the library so I had to put my phone on silent.” Those words in defense of his actions were instinctive. Soon, as Hange looked back gesturing for him to follow her, he started to realize that maybe that defense was useless.

“Okay Levi,” Hange said. Her tone was reminiscent of a know-it-all. Her pace was insultingly slow. Levi found himself angrily quickening his pace to catch up to her.

Hange’s pace was at least slow enough that even with his recovering leg, he found it easy to catch up. The moment Levi walked past her, he felt familiar arms on his shoulder. They weighed on him and in a way, they had prevented him from overtaking her.

He had no intention of doing so anyway. “How was your defense?” Levi asked. It was an easy question to start with.

“Better late than never but I’m getting a diploma.”

“Late? You’re graduating with all of us.”

“I’m the last one among my batchmates who presented.”

“Believe me, I’m more amazed that you managed to get something out even after redoing your thesis three times.”

“I should thank Kuchel, it was her sources which got me here. I’ll probably send her a copy of my thesis as a thank you. You think she’ll appreciate that?”

“She probably will. Something to help her pass the time when she goes on leave.”

“Leave?”

“In our last session, she told me she’s expecting.”

“Oooh? A baby?”

“She ended up opening up to me about it after our session. She was pretty nervous about having a child for a while and recently, she managed to get over that fear.”

“I guess we all had something to deal with…” Hange said as she pulled him towards the gate. “You think we’ll get to meet the kid one day. I’d love to see Kuchel as a mother.”

“She’ll be a great mother…” Somehow, Levi knew it. He only had to look back at her words, her refined tone and the way she easily shifted between professional and motherly to be almost jealous of the child growing in her womb.

Hange gave him a toothy grin. “Let’s visit her together?”

“Why not?”

The conversation died as they turned the corner of one of the buildings along the path, a corner that opened up to a large courtyard and beyond it the gate of their university.

“Wait, where are we going?” Levi asked,

“I told you, I’m treating you guys out.” Hange answered matter-of-factly.

“Where Hange?”

“We’re having grilled meat.”

“Hange? For the third time… Where?” Levi asked.

It wasn’t Hange who had ended up answering the question. By the gate, Moblit and Nifa were waiting and they looked like they had been waiting a while. Nifa was tapping her feet impatiently while Moblit had seemed genuinely concerned.

“You guys okay? You looked like you were fighting,” Moblit said as he approached them.

“Where are we eating?” Levi asked.

“The Korean grill just a few blocks away.” Moblit said.

Levi didn’t need any more clarification from there. They were all from the same university and the restaurants around the area were a common language among them.

“That’s how you answer a question Hange,” Levi muttered coldly.

“Well, I didn’t think the location was important. I was leading you there already anyway,” Hange responding mirroring that same cold tone with her own. She went ahead and put one arm around Moblit muttering unintelligible words save for the quick congratulations at the start.

“Congratulations?” Levi asked.

“He got nominated for best thesis and everyone's pretty convinced he’s gonna win it,” Nifa answered. She had fallen back behind the two and matched Levi’s pace.

Moblit eventually raised his voice, loud enough for even Levi to hear. “No No… That was your data Hange and it was your idea. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“Still…” Hange’s voice trailed off. She was far enough, her voice was garbled enough that with that few feet distance, her words were unintelligible. Her smile though was very much still perceptible, a genuine golden smile.

“Levi, you agree right?”

Levi looked towards the voice, Moblit’s voice. “Agree with what?”

“If Hange had submitted her thesis early, she could have won ri---.”

“Moblit, stop downplaying your nomination.” Hange interrupted, giving him a strong push n the back.

Moblit wobbled and held onto Hange’s shirt to keep his balance “But it was a good thesis right?” He asked as soon as he recovered. He looked at Levi expectantly.

It was only then did Levi realize, despite the five months together, he never really thought too much to ask what her thesis had been about. With his own hectic schedule, his physical therapy sessions, his sessions with Shela, maybe it just never peaked his interest. He was starting to feel guilty at such a reminder and before he knew it, he was finding excuses for it.

She spent a lot of the past few months cooped up in her room if not in class, save for the few moments when she would accompany to therapy sessions or to meet with Shela.

His thoughts flew back to the document she had shared with him.

To: Levi Ackerman.

And if that document was half as good as her thesis, he was sure she did well. So he returned Moblit’s approval with one of his own. “It was a good thesis,” Levi said. “But don’t downplay yours. You won fair and square.”

That was all there was to it. Hange didn’t win. But she didn’t seem to mind either. Hange had snuck what looked to be a grateful smile and she continued to playfully poke at Moblit then, probably whispering inside jokes, reminiscing about their life before.

Her mood was unwavering all the way until the restaurant

It turned out Mike and Nanaba were in the restaurant already and they only joined Hange at glomping Moblit for his nomination. The four childhood friends created a world of their own in the restaurant, a world full of inside jokes, long gone memories and maybe even discussions on future plans.

Levi deemed it appropriate to sit on a chair at the edge of their long table and just quietly listen.

Mike was selected for the national team.

Nanaba wanted to go back to minor league volleyball after college.

Moblit was going to medical school

And Nifa, who had joined their conversation then, was going to take masters.

Hange’s plans were either long-awaited or they were intentionally avoided. He couldn’t tell.

By the time the question came, it had come as a casual question by Moblit who had always been sensitive with the way he phrased things so his intention had been something Levi couldn’t read either.

Before Hange could open her mouth though, Nifa chimed in greeting. “Doctor Erwin!”

“Sorry I’m late. We were discussing the nominees,’ Erwin said.

And the topic shifted from there, even before Levi could get answers.

Erwin never spilled who the winner was, but it was apparent in his gaze that shifted to the side and the smile that curled up his lips that it was one of them. By the time Hange had started being too vocal about it, Erwin had spilled more than enough for the students to guess for themselves.

“You’re free anytime next week for an awarding ceremony right?” Erwin asked.

“Anytime sir! Thank you for this opportunity.”

Erwin shook his head. “You wrote a great thesis. It was well deserved. Will you be inviting Elijah?”

“I think I should treat him out, I’ve wasted a lot of his time this past year... He’s been pretty busy training with the national team though… But I’ll talk to him.”

Their long table was already a conglomerate of conversations and Levi struggled to keep up.

Somewhere between conversations, the charcoal had been added to the grills, the sides were served and Levi found himself listening intently to Erwin and Moblit’s exchange in particular while he played with the spinach on his plate.

Elijah swept the high jump. He swept the other events. He came out winning the Most Valuable Player Award for the High Jump. And he recently started training with the national team.

The Olympics isn’t a far off dream at this point. It’s probably just another step for him.

Moblit had shown up for the first training and he had started to describe Elijah’s skill with the bar then. His coordination with the take off food, his wide penultimate stride.

He was using lingo most track and field athletes wouldn’t have thought twice to use and Levi had used and heard them more times than he had counted through the years. Having not thought about high jumping in months, listening to such a conversation peppered with such words that used to be home for him, seemed surreal.

So surreal that for a second, Levi lost his grip on a reality. Enough to not have noticed the waitress who served the drink in front of him

It was a short and stout glass. The contents looked particularly ---almost dangerously--- colorful and the red stick on the side was enough for Levi to deduce what exactly it was. To confirm it, he took one sniff.

“Nanaba, why the hell did you order alcohol?” Hange asked.

“It’s a celebration right? We should be drinking. Cheers!” She raised her cup up to no one in particular.

Moblit and Nifa had been nice enough to join albeit a little uncomfortably. Levi found himself making eye contact with Erwin who was still slowly mixing the cup in front of him, seeming unsure of what exactly happened.

Hange seemed flustered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with us drinking but more people are coming and---”

“Sorry we’re late Hange!”

Armin? That was Armin’s voice. But it wasn’t just Armin, tailing behind him were several other very familiar people.

Armin continued. “None of us wanted to go alone…”

Of course none of them would want to go alone, they were high school students and around them were a group of college students and a college professor.

A group of high school students among college students. Levi noted. He eyed the cocktail glass in front of him then. Was that what Hange was worried about? Levi found himself downing his cup a little quicker.

“Blame Connie here, He was the one wasting his time on extra batting practice until god knows what time,” Jean said as he followed behind Armin.

“Shut up Jean. At least Armin didn’t have to cover my subway fee.”

“I just didn’t have change on me.”

“Calm down you two, you’re eating here for free.” Historia went in between the two, and walked up to Hange who had stood up to guide them to their seats. “I could pay for my share.”

“No, no. I set aside money for this. I just wanted to express my thanks for the past few months and I wanted to meet you guys again. I hope we can keep in touch even after...” Hange pulled Historia to the side and Levi couldn’t make out the rest of their conversation.

So he focused elsewhere.

“Is this… unlimited?” It was Sasha who spoke up that time. It was great timing that the moment Sasha had come in, the first plates of meat were starting to be served on the table. Expectedly, she had been the first one to sit and she started cooking on her end.

“Yes it is,” Levi answered

“No way… Right after a long day of training? Is this heaven…” Sasha could have been tearing up at that moment. She had been too focused on the meat so Levi couldn’t confirm it for himself but the crack on her voice had been evidence enough.

Hange squeezed herself among the high school students who had settled on the nearby seats. “No no… This is a thank you for helping me with my thesis. I got some good data from you guys so really, thank you for taking the time to fill out those forms and dealing with all my messages and calls,” Hange said.

“You didn’t have to. You did more than enough for us.” Jean sat in front of Levi towards the edge of the table. “You helped me fix my dunking position.”

“Ah Jean, you mentioned last time, you’d be going abroad for college. Will you?”

Jean grinned. “Basketball isn’t too big of a sport here so I thought of going somewhere where I can go pro. I got a full ride in a pretty good university.”

“Jean! Congratulations!” Their side of the table had exploded into other conversations.

They were all going to colleges, some abroad, some local. Levi had turned to their side, ready to passively listen for details. He was starting to get invested in their plans too.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Mikasa Ackerman. He instantly recognized her voice. “Ah sorry, I didn’t notice you there.” Levi said.

Mikasa remained standing. She stared at Levi expectantly and pointed to the seat next to him. “So, I can sit here?”

“Go ahead.” Levi scooched over on the bench. He eyed the filled cocktail glass next to Mikasa and pushed it casually towards himself. The last thing he wanted to do then was enable a minor.

Mikasa didn’t seem to notice the drink at leats.. “I talked to Elijah,” she said as she started placing meat in the grill... “He welcomed me during my first training.”

“Didn’t he move on from collegiate jumping already?”

“He had some free time. We had a long talk about prospects after college. I’m guessing coach put him up to it. Some extra persuasion points maybe?”

“You’re not gonna change your mind.”

“I don’t plan on changing my mind. I submitted my documents, signed the contract and I’ll probably be moving to the dorm next week so I’ll be nearer to the oval.” Mikasa paused to eat an egg roll.

“To think you were so against it before.”

Mikasa shrugged. “I guess it’s just easier now since Eren’s starting to prepare for entrance exams. I’m actually convinced he’s gonna be fine. He’s been taking review classes and he’s been studying a lot outside the classes too.”

“Entrance exams of Paradis University?”

“That’s his first choice,” Mikasa said. “Are you still staying in the dorm? Maybe we could go through drills together on off-days and you could give me a few pointers.”

“I’ll be in the dorm for a week more or so... I’m not exactly sure.”

“You’re gonna wait for Hange?”

Is it obvious? Levi avoided her gaze then, looking back at his empty plate. He soon realized he hadn’t even started cooking himself. So he dropped a few slabs of meat on the grill in front of him to feign at least some disconnect. “Maybe,” he answered.

“It would be nice to get a few pointers from you,” Mikasa said. “You really were one of the best jumpers out there.”

“I won’t be able to demonstrate a jump if that’s what you’re expecting. Besides Hange is much better at giving pointers. She’s a lot more observant than I am.”

“I’m sure there are things you can teach me that Hange can’t. I wanna improve my vertical jump. And maybe try some of the other events as well.”

“This is a complete 180 from you months ago..”

“I’m stuck training twice a day. I barely get to talk to Eren and Armin. So I ended up finding happiness in just jumping… And I thought to myself, might as well make some jumping goals for myself right?”

“So what’s your goal?”

“I wanna beat your high jump record. Even Elijah hasn’t beaten that yet,” Mikasa said.

“That’s some character development,” Levi mumbled.

Mikasa ignored it though or maybe she didn’t hear it. Levi never really figured out how loud he had said it. “.. And the only person who can teach me how to beat your record is you.”

***

Levi had eaten too little and had drank a little too much. But he would rather not have told anyone that.

So he had made the journey to the rooftop of the restaurant alone. There was a toilet conveniently by the staircase where he had ended up dry heaving on the bowl. A few dry heaves and a few sets of stairs later, he found himself sitting back on the metal wired fence that lined the roof.

Just long enough to get my bearings. Levi reassured himself as he leaned further in.

As time passed though, he managed to convince himself that maybe he could stay there long enough to just wait for everyone to leave. The last thing he would have wanted to do was puke on anyone on the way down.

He checked his clock. 9:30pm. Most college students wouldn’t even be leaving for the party yet at that time. His strict athlete schedule meant he never was a normal college student though.

He graduated college already anyway. With that realization, Levi was a little more merciful towards himself. So he rode out the high of his inebriation. He counted out the stars above him, treating it as some sort of countdown to sobriety.

It probably wouldn’t work. After the tenth star, his head was still pounding, the stars were starting to show signs of blending amongst one another and he could feel his face warming up.

He was starting to feel the beginnings of dry heaving—or possibly wet heaving—again. Unable to sit up any longer, he lay on his side.

He didn't know how long he had lain there, waiting for the pounding to subside before he heard footsteps. His first instinct had been to force himself to sit up. His mind though was quick to recognize those footsteps, that natural mix of fast, loud and even as they made their way up the stairs and somehow, he ended up relaxing instead on the cold concrete floor.

How many times had he searched for those footsteps before?

“Hey, you know you’re lucky we’re here on a weekday during off season. If this were a weekend, the rooftop probably would have been full and they would have kicked you out already.”

“How’s everyone?” Levi asked. He kept his question to two words but the amount of syllables he had to pronounce then only garbled it.

“They left already,” Hange slid back on the metal fence and leaned back on it. “It’s just you and me now.”

“Okay,” Levi said. He would have wanted to say more. The pounding headache only made something so simple as speaking, a game of Russian Roulette and he didn’t want to figure out which word had the bullet, and which word could have him throwing up on Hange then.

“It’s just you and me,” Hange repeated.

You said that already. Levi would have wanted to say. Instead he kept his own response at a hum of understanding. She should interpret that as a yes at least.

“You don’t wanna talk? Or are you just too drunk?”

Levi didn’t respond.

“Didn’t you just have two cups?”

Levi raised up three fingers. He wasn’t exactly sure how many at that point. But he was sure it felt like more than two.

“Okay, that still isn’t enough to be deadass drunk you know.” Hange seemed impatient. And maybe a little disappointed.

So Levi took one risk. “Just keep talking. I’m listening.” Maybe that had been enough to get some bile up his throat. It had done more than enough to aggravate the pounding in his head and he found himself leaning on Hange’s shoulder.

As she held him closer, her hand gently guided him deeper onto her shoulder. Within seconds, Levi found he had rested his head on her lap and was staring up at the sky above.

The night was clear, the stars were shining and Levi was counting the stars again, a little ticked that he had lost his pattern and his train of thought of a few minutes ago. He was starting from the top again and he could have sworn the stars were constantly moving. There was no way he would have been able to guess which line of stars he had already counted.

“Hey, talk to me.” Hange only made the ordeal of counting stars worse. Her big head of all things was obscuring the view of the patterns he was starting to form as he counted.

Get out, I’m counting stars. That’s what he would have wanted to say then.

Hange could have heard it. Or maybe she didn’t. She bent a little more forward, so unnaturally, Levi could have sworn she had done it out of spite. She stared at him with wide eyes, her lips curled up into a playful smile. “Let’s talk Levi, one more hour and they’re gonna close. Besides the view here is nice, it’s breezy and…”

“And?”

“You’re probably too drunk to move now. We’re gonna have to get a taxi home.”

“Later,” Levi mumbled as he turned on his side and buried his face into Hange’s polo which smelled unavoidably like beef. He would have complained then if his head wasn’t pounding and if it didn’t dawn on him then, he probably smelled worse.

“Okay, Wanna talk about my work?”

“Thesis?”

“That… and, the binder I gave you, the one with the stories.”

“What about it?” There was a lot to talk about. But it wasn’t like there was much Levi could have contributed then but one to two syllable answers.

“What did you think?”

“Good.”

Hange pouted. “No, not about the quality. How did it make you feel?”

“Good.”

“Okay, how did Commander Hange’s death make you feel?” Hange had taken pains to pronounce the word death a little more clearly than everything else. Enough for Levi to almost think throwing up on her would be a good idea.

So he took another risk. “If you had so much more to say, why didn’t you say it?” Levi asked. His voice would naturally slur so he willed himself to enunciate every syllable even if it could make him look like an idiot in the process.

“That’s what Commander Hange should have been asking Levi,” Hange said.

“Captain Levi didn’t wanna let Commander Hange sacrifice herself. It was obvious.”

“No it wasn’t.” Hange shook her head, quickly enough to get even Levi dizzy. “You wrote something before, right? Your descriptions of everything were incredibly vivid, like I remembered the views, the appearance of the titans, the way you weaved words together but you know half the time, I couldn’t even be sure of what Captain Levi was thinking.”

“That’s how it felt reading your work. Squad leader Hange, Commander Hange… all they described were titans.”

“But Commander Hange explicitly said she wanted to live with Captain Levi. It was obvious too,” Hange said.

And for a second, maybe they were engaged in some mental sparring, a game of tug of war. Levi was still a little too incapacitated, he couldn’t take the initiative.

So Hange spoke up, loud and clear. “I thought being with each other, doing all that was enough of a love letter. Did they need words? A mad declaration of love?”

“Maybe, no one can be too sure unless somebody says something right?”

“Hange was the commander. Levi was the captain. With the war going on, I don’t think they could have left their post right. They couldn’t be too selfish. I think the commander was planning to wait until retirement to say it.”

“Retirement never came.”

“We’re both retired now,” Hange said. “I’m done with this whole academic stint. You’re done with your whole athletic stint. We have the time to make it work for Commander Hange and for Captain Levi right?”

“Are you saying we’re Captain Levi and Commander Hange?”

“My dreams tell me yes.”

“Dreams huh? That’s pretty objective.”

“Hey, I think I did enough research on this to make a theory about it. It was part of my thesis.”

“And you do realize you’ve never told me what your thesis was about?”

“Sorry about that…”

“So you knew? I always thought I was an asshole for not asking.”

“You asked a few times, not directly, but I think maybe you wanted to go in that direction,” Hange said. “And I admit, I ended up digressing every time.”

“Why?”

“I guess I wasn’t too comfortable telling you yet. I was writing my thesis side by side with that story and ever since I got serious about it, after a few dreams, after that night in the hospital, I wanted the memories to be as raw as possible, untainted by whatever story Captain Levi told me before. It was Commander Hange’s story, not Captain Levi’s. So I guess that’s why I wanted to avoid discussion on it.”

“Thesis is done. The book is done. You can talk about it now.”

“You're gonna get bored. So I’ll just read out the title.”

Hange twisted towards her side, jostling Levi in the process and Levi had to bite his lip not to aggravate the dull headache then. He heard the sound of a zipper and the sound of books pushed against one another.

After what felt like a lot more than a few seconds, it stopped. Hange opened the book, she turned on the flashlight of her phone.

The glare was sudden and for a good few seconds the glare of the light could have been right on him. Maybe that was what had made it particularly painful for Levi then.

He buried his face further into Hange’s shirt and let out a taut curse.

“Sorry,” Hange whispered, seeming distracted. After flipping through the pages for a few seconds longer, she read it out loud. “Nature and Nurture as Determinants of Athletic Potential, A Case Study on High Performing Athletes… Okay you know, maybe I was a little biased towards ‘nature,’’ she added cheekily.

“Why nature?”

“Dreams… Past life. What if… You’re Captain Levi and I’m Commander Hange Zoe. Right? We have the evidence. Captain Levi was humanity’s strongest and he was really good with fighting in the air... Commander Hange Zoe liked strategy and research... And the fact that we had the same dreams?” Hange trailed off.

Levi was in no state to respond.

So Hange continued. “You wrote a lot Levi and maybe you’ll write it again. But I can swear, from what I remember about your works, and what I remember from mine, They’re the same story. And Kuchel had something similar right? What if past lives are real?”

“I don’t think you’re wrong..”

Hange pulled another book from her bag then.

Under the dim starry night, Levi made out the thin binder, the one he had read that afternoon. She started to flip through the pages, much faster as if she memorized the exact page and maybe the exact position where the paragraph was.

“Maybe we should just live here together, right Levi?” Hange read out loud.

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us… I know you’re not able to stay out of the action. Those words echoed clearly in Levi’s mind then. Captain Levi was still alive inside him and he was whispering.

Clear enough to convince Levi. Maybe past lives are real. Levi thought to himself. He was in another life then, circumstances were different so he changed the script a bit, a script fit for soon-to-be graduates Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman.

“Where to, Hange Zoe? What’s the game plan?” Levi asked.

“What’s the game plan of an academic washout…” Hange asked. “Well first things first, thank my parents for their grad gift, you know, the money to pay for the all you can eat beef… I’ll probably get a full time job, save up money then decide if I wanna go to med school again but at this point, I might just be better off pursuing a research track.”

“Didn’t Commander Hange wanna study plants?”

“She did,” Hange said. “And you know maybe she’ll get the chance now. Didn’t Captain Levi wanna own a tea shop?”

“I think that’s a viable career option for an athletic washout. The Olympics and the national team are out of my plate anyway.”

“So what? Teashop and research?”

“Teashop and research.”

“Well first things first, we’re gonna have to save right? My parents and I have been reconciling our differences lately already but I don’t wanna borrow too much money so our best option would be to get a place outside the city? You think we’d be able to afford that?”

Levi forced a slight nod. “Maybe a place with lots of green. You’d probably enjoy the trees and you’ll find lots to study during your days off. The commute to work is gonna be a bitch though.”

“We’ll find a job nearby or we’ll make it work. Just long enough to figure things out.”

Figure things out… The conversation died then. But maybe it did because Hange had started to do a little more research then, he saw in the glare in her glasses, the natural green over the white background.

Was she researching houses? Levi asked silently. It wasn’t worth asking anyway. They had only a few weeks before their contract ends and they’d be forced to vacate the dorms. Maybe it was a good idea to search much earlier.

So Levi endured the bright glare of the screen and searched for the beauty in the green glare on the white screen on Hange’s glasses then, and maybe he found it underneath in her eyes that seemed to be smiling.

If eyes could smile… No, they were definitely smiling.

“I’m sorry, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave. The restaurant is closing soon.”

Just like that, the moment was broken.

“We’re going down. Just give us a few minutes to fix our stuff.”

“Let’s go, Levi?”

“I would've wanted to stay here a little longer. It feels like a dream. I feel like Captain Levi here.”

“Because you are Captain Levi,” Hange said as she started to stuff the books back into her bag.

“Alright, Commander Hange.”

Hange chuckled. “You seem very disappointed.”

“Do I?” Levi couldn’t really tell the face he was making there. Hange’s face wasn’t the clearest either under the dark light. So he considered the possibility that she could be right. He might have been disappointed.

“Fine, I’ll give you something to dream about,” Hange said slyly. “You know, if Commander Hange Zoe wasn’t fighting a war, there was something else she probably would have done.”

“Wha--?” Before Levi could even complete the question, she had answered it herself.

She answered it with a quick peck. Or at least it should have been a quick peck.

With Levi’s mouth half open then, it morphed into something else in that split second, lasting a little longer. Their lips locked, their tongues touched and it had taken a few seconds longer to let go.

It probably could have taken a minute, an hour or even an eternity longer and Levi wouldn't have minded.

He continued to replay it in his head again and again as Hange helped him up, slung his one arm over hers. His surroundings changed, from the starry rooftop, the restaurant interior then the taxi on the way home.

And it ended with the sofa of the dorm lobby, the wooden ceiling and Hange leaning on him on the sofa.

He was still thinking about it then. In the silence, in the peace even with the changing surroundings, he had been on cloud nine the whole time.

He was convinced, Captain Levi wouldn't have minded that eternity either. Hell, he probably would have loved it.

***

There was a hiking trail near their house. Luckily it wasn’t too steep.

So Levi deemed himself well enough to brave it. It had been almost a year since his surgery, six months since the last tear and most days, as long as he wore his knee brace, his knee wouldn’t give out on him.

Unbuckling happened. Swelling happened. The dull aches never left. Levi had learned to just live with it, ride through the worst days.

It was as if his knee knew then that that day in particular was special. Or maybe Levi had chosen that day because his knee was feeling better. That day, Hange was notably freer and on the days leading up to autumn, it was only gonna getting colder and colder and he didn’t wanna have to wait another year to hike.

“Just tell me if anything hurts,” Hange said as they made the almost perilous journey up the hill.

The steeper it got, the harder it would be on his knees. He noted that, it would get worse particularly on the way down.

It was still far from the steep incline in the reserve Hange had brought him to more than a year ago.

There was a peak that overlooked the small town they had settled in. The incline, the climb albeit longer, was friendlier for his aching muscles and his bum knee.

Levi was counting his blessings. So through the worst of the dull aches, the worst of the pains as they climbed up, Levi gritted his teeth and clocked it as ‘bearable at least,’ not worth a complaint.

Hange probably could tell though. He didn’t figure out by her eyes since he kept walking behind her. She hadn’t been particularly pushy either. He had figured it out for himself when she started talking, and she never stopped.

“How’s Petra?”

“She’s working towards a PT Certificate.”

“How’s Isabel?”

“I heard she’s starting her third year of high school already?”

“And Farland?”

How do you even know them?

“I visited Erwin a lot in his office in the hospital you know. And I talked to them.”

But it hadn’t been just that. Hange had an emotional investment extending far beyond that. He slowed his pace, appreciating her seemingly interested voice then. With that, Levi was reminded, they were Commander Hange’s friends too.

So he continued to answer questions as they came. They were a good distraction from the specter of exhaustion that loomed over him.

And soon, he took the reins. "So how's Moblit?" It had only felt natural to ask too.

"He's in his first year of med school...How's Mikasa?"

"Her first college competition is next month.”

Conversations shifted quickly from topic to topic, person to person before dying somewhere at the peak when they attributed the death of such to speechlessness at the view before him or just utter exhaustion.

Levi knew it was neither of it and he became sure of it as Hange guided him to the bench that overlooked the rolling hills behind them.

She kept one hand over his knee. "Your knee did a good job not swelling."

"Even if it does, I won’t regret it. I wanted to do this for a while."

"Is this because you couldn't join me up the peak last year?"

"Probably," Levi said. He turned to her. "You didn’t get to the top then right?"

“No, I didn’t. I went back down as quickly as I could when I heard you scream my name.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what came over me. But Levi knew, so he kept that last part to himself. “You know, maybe I am doing this for you. You still wanna fly right?"

"Yeah, I do. Even if I remember everything then, after writing everything out… Sure I know how it ends for Commander Hange Zoe but... I still wanna fly. Maybe because I just wanna enjoy the freedom that comes with it.”

"Then I guess we made a good choice." Levi grabbed his backpack from behind him and unzipped it. "I wanted to give this to you. And I thought you might enjoy reading it in a place with lots of sky."

He had binded it the same way and he had titled it similarly.

It looked like Hange knew what it was. "Levi… is this…" Her wide eyes looked far from confused.

"After reading your work, I started dreaming about Captain Levi again so I rewrote the story I made a year ago. It's not a perfect copy but I think I remembered enough to maybe get you immersed again in his thoughts."

Hange didn't reply but Levi didn't mind.

In a way, she had responded, through whispers, murmurs and the grin on her face as she looked through the file. "To Commander Hange? Yours truly, Captain Levi?" Hange asked, a little louder and clearer than her murmurs. She wanted to be listened to.

"Are you laughing? That's the same thing you wrote at the top in your own file,” Levi said. “I guess you can say, it's Captain Levi's love letter to Commander Hange."

“A love letter huh? All I’m reading here are long drawn out descriptions of humanity’s strongest soldier fighting titans…” Hange chuckled. “And maybe some mentions of Commander Hange Zoe.”

“Captain Levi was with Commander Hange a lot right?” It was a shoddy reply. Still, an inkling of pride had Levi clinging on to that comment.

"Do you notice that neither of us actually wrote something introspective. It’s like they never could tell what the other was thinking. Captain Levi was too obsessed with fighting, Commander Hange was too obsessed with Titans."

"Those were how my dreams were."

"That's how they were for me too."

"But if you look over there, towards the last page, you'd find it. I wrote 'dedicate your heart' right? Captain Levi didn't want you to leave"

"I remember that and if you looked towards the end of my work you'd see I wrote... Commander Hange wanted to live with you."

Levi had a copy of it on his phone so he opened up, did a quick search and highlighted the text.

Maybe we should just live here together, right Levi?

For a second they sat in silence. Levi was too busy finding a reason for the tens of thousands of words worth of exposition all for one sentence. Maybe Hange was doing similarly.

Hange spoke up once again, only confirming it for herself. "Commander Hange and Captain Levi really took each other for granted huh?”

"They had a war to fight. They couldn't be too intimate could they?"

“So instead of just explicitly saying I love you through a love letter, they decide to send each other memories of a past life and we’re left to decode it for ourselves?”

“Captain Levi was never really the type to say he loves someone. And I’m guessing Commander Hange wasn’t the type either.”

“Or maybe... They were too scared to think about it to admit it was love, but somehow the reader just knows.” Hange suggested. She turned to Levi then, eyeing his phone.” It wasn’t just in the ‘live together’ part right? I’m sure you felt it in the letter? With every mention of Captain Levi… Toward the end, he never left her side and she never his side too right?”

Levi nodded slowly, gripping his phone a little tighter. “I felt it and every time I reread it, it only got stronger." And how many times had he reread it since she first gave it to him months ago?

“You know Levi, even since last year, the first time I read it, I felt it for myself and I really thought they would have kissed. And maybe if Commander Hange died they would have.” Hange cocked her head to one side. “So none of us needed reflection or introspection huh? I guess the descriptions on titans and technology made some great padding to the love letter.”

“Don’t you think it just made everything more complicated? For us?”

“Maybe it did. But I like to think this long drawn out puzzle just makes everything deeper, worth remembering. Think about it, just mentioning someone again and again, just quietly assuming that someone would be there by your side forever, not thinking too much of it but just casually thinking ‘I wouldn’t mind if they were there forever.’ And when the prospect of losing them comes up, that refusal to let go...the regrets that follow... I think those run deeper than any flowery declaration of love." Hange waved the binder in front of him. "I like this. It’s better than any love letter I could have gotten.”

“Two idiots just writing stories about their tragic past lives and exchanging it," Levi mumbled that first part to himself. He turned to Hange. "I enjoyed the process of writing these ‘love letters’," Levi said. "Did you?"

Hange nodded. “It wasn’t all happiness for sure but overall, I’m enjoying the writing process and I'm enjoying where the dreams brought me. It’s not where I expected to be a year ago but hey, who says life should be following the path we set for it,” she said. She took a deep breath. “And I should be saying the same to you. I’m not the Olympics. I’m not the national track and field team but you don’t mind right? Being stuck with me? Writing love letters like that?”

“Hey, instead of going to medical school, you’re here living with me in some small house near some hiking trail. We’re both on nine to five jobs saving up money until god knows when. It’s a far cry from what our teammates and blockmates are doing.”

“But you know if I didn’t drop the other theses, I don’t think I would have written this much about you.”

“And if I didn’t get injured, I wouldn’t have written. I’d probably be training with the national team now.”

And we wouldn’t be here. Somehow, Levi knew she was thinking about it too. From his peripherals, he saw, Hange had leaned back on the bench and had let her head fall back. She was staring at the sky above her.

He followed suit.

There was something about the sky at the top of the hill. It was a light yet mesmerizing blue that endlessly stretched above him. There were no buildings, no trees, or no highlands framing such a view. The sky looked free.

And for the first time in months, Levi felt like he was flying again.

But he didn’t want to fly alone. Levi dropped one hand along that very small gap between them.

It looked like Hange had taken that as a sign to reciprocate.

Levi looked to his hand, cradled against hers and up at her face to see that she still wasn’t looking down. In fact she held her head back further, propped her glasses on her forehead, and continued to stare at the blue sky above.

The blue sky reflected on Hange’s hazel eyes and it manifested in streams of color Levi couldn’t have even imagined as ever been producible by blue and brown. He wanted to catch her gaze then.

So he spoke up. “It wasn’t easy to accept it at first but I’m happy where we are. I’m not regretting anything and you know, there’s something liberating about failing---” Levi shook his head almost instantly as if what he had just said dawned on him then. “Actually wait, I think I phrased it wrong. This probably sounds weird.”

Hange continued to stare at the sky. “No, I think I get it,” she said. “Failing is embarrassing, it fucking hurts and for a while it feels like life stops. But when you fail enough times, failure starts to feel like a friend. And when you fail a few more times, you stop chasing and that’s the liberation you’re talking about right? There’s something liberating about accepting failure as just something that happens and just riding through that downward spiral before picking yourself up again." Hange held the booklet over her and reopened it. “I’m happy where I am now too, post-downward spiral.”

Levi could only watch and listen as she whispered unintelligible sentences to herself, grinning at the pages. He wondered which scenes she was reading through then.

“Well, it’s time for both of us to regroup then. We can't just keep feeling sorry for ourselves right?” Hange added as she stood up. “I have my research. You have your tea shop to work on. We better start hiking now or I don’t think we’ll make it back before sun down.”

“I would have wanted to enjoy this view a little longer.”

“Then we schedule another hike. We endure the uphill battle, we enjoy the peak then we deal with the downward spiral. That’s how it’s always been anyway.” She stuffed the booklet on her backpack and pulled him up from the bench.

“Yeah, we’re both used to it anyway,” Levi joked. He felt Hange’s hand behind him as he looked down at the decline. Only looking at it then did it dawn on him, hiking backwards, the downward spiral which followed the euphoria at the peak could be almost comparable to hell for his knees.

“Hey, I’ll go first. If you feel like you’re losing your balance, just grip my shoulder harder. Besides we can look for a gentler slope on the way down. We just have to get past this one.”

“We won’t be able to get down if we don’t deal with this huh?”

“We won’t,” Hange said. “I know it’s bad for your knees… but if you walk at an angle, it will reduce pressure. I’ll cover for you.” She clutched his hand, went ahead and guided his hand towards her shoulder.

Levi took it as a sign to grip..

“Just relax," Hange said.

It was easier said than done. Levi waited for his legs to start screaming then. The dull aches were ubiquitous, the buckling and unbuckling of his knees were a discomfort he had learned to just ride through and he was sure, he wouldn’t be hiking for another few months after that.

Even before the slope had gradually morphed into something gentler, Hange had started talking again as if she knew once again that it could ease them the whole ordeal of hiking downwards.

“Remember that teashop, the one just a ten minute walk away from our apartment, you wanna check it out?” Hange asked.

There was only one teashop near their place and Levi was quick to recognize it. “I’ve been going there everyday after work.”

“Without me?”

“Where do you think I buy the teabags and the coffee beans that never seem to run out?" Levi asked. He had taken great care to say the word 'coffee' in particular. It was Hange who went through bags of them too quickly that it was almost impossible to not frequent the cafe.

“Fine, I won’t complain. Tell me about it then, any regulars? Anything notable?”

“There are two kids who live nearby and they hang out there a lot. A brunette and a blond. Falco and Gabi.” Those names had been easy to remember. Yet as he imagined those two kids in the cafe, as he recalled their minimal interactions, he started to wonder if they ever really did introduce themselves.

“Those are familiar names," Hange commented.

“And there’s a pilot who hangs out there but mostly on weekends. His name is Onya--”

“Onyakopon?”

“So you’ve met them before?”

“No, just seems familiar.”

“So what, are you gonna tell me you’ve dreamed of them?”

“Maybe I did.”

Somehow, that had taken a weight of his shoulders then and it had started to become easier to admit on his end. “To be honest, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of them too.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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ginazmemeoir · 4 years

Text

Kashibai-Mastani

I was inspired by @allegoriesinmediasres to right this fic. It’s three pages long, so i would advise you to sit tight.

Kashi stood numb as she watched the projector curtain burn. She felt that Baji had burnt their marriage of 20 years too in a single night.

Mastani drew in a breath as Bajirao drew her closer in the Aaina Mahal in open defiance of his mother Radhabai. The anger on her face was clear, and Mastani felt as if she was committing a crime, when she shouldn’t have to.

It had been a year since the Aaina Mahal incident. Baji first reduced his visits, and then stopped altogether. He spent most of his time with Mastani in the palace he had specially constructed for her. The only time he saw Kashi was when she came back from her mother’s home after delivering her secondborn who was at length christened Raghunathrao (she called him Raghu or Raghoba). Even then he had left immediately to assist Mastani with her birth. Kashi hated a small part of herself for wishing that both mother and child died that day. She did everything to convince herself that she was happy, but the shock of betrayal had left her hollow. The maids and noblewomen were silenced by her sister-in-laws, but Kashi felt the sting of their taunts. She tried to believe she was luckier and happier, for she had the support of her entire kingdom and family, but really she just felt stripped of everything – cast adrift in a cruel sea.

Mastani now knew the true meaning of heaven. Yes she missed her father’s palace very much, but she would even trade the pleasure of a thousand jannats to spend time with Baji. He was teaching Krishna to walk right now (she insisted on calling him Krishna, while Baji called him Bahadur), and she felt she was in a dream – beautiful and fragile, and she feared it would break one day and she would wake up cold and alone.

Kashi didn’t know what to do. She considered her options – Mastani and her son’s death would mean that she had a chance to get back everything she had. But she knew nothing would ever be the same – her husband would be a broken man. No matter how much she wanted, her conscience wouldn’t let her commit such a crime, not today when she was worshipping Ganpati, the lord of auspiciousness and happiness. She went and told Baji during the aarti and they both rushed to rescue her, reaching just in time as she slew the final assassin and collapsed. Kashi hugged Bahadur and checked him for any harm. Then looking at Baji, she left and sent for the doctors.

Mastani felt her dream was cracking. She remembered each cruelty she had experienced at the hands of the Peshwa elite – staying in a brothel, being asked to dance in a private audience, and now almost being killed. She now feared for the life of her son, but one look at Baji, and she knew he would do anything to keep her safe. But just for her sake, she asked her father to send a contingent of her loyal Rajput soldiers from Banda.

It had been six years since things changed between her and Baji. Her wounds were healing, and Kashi was going to invite Mastani today for Gauri Padwa. As she reached Mastani Mahal, she heard both children giggling. The mothers couldn’t be happier that the animosity between them hadn’t affected their children in anyway – Raghoba and Bahadur were practically inseparable. Kashi stood near the threshold for a long time. She took in all of the palace – a marvel truly, it was a fusion of Rajputi, Mughal and Marathi architecture. There were jalis and jharokhas, a space she thought was meant for dua and ibadat and then a shrine dedicated to Krishna. Truly Mastani was wonderful. The palace was bare and elegant, sprawled instead with lush gardens, courtyard and fountains. She spotted an armoury, fit for warriors like her. Mastani was reciting poetry to the children then – it was about a pearl yearning to get out of the clam and embrace the ocean. Her poetry was magical, meanwhile Kashi wrote poems about a frog who ate nothing but laddoos and farted. Finally, the kids were sent away and Kashi entered.

Mastani saw Kashi standing near the threshold. She didn’t invite her, but instead used the poetry as a cover to recollect what she knew about her. They hadn’t met often, but on the rare occasion they had, she had found her to be collected and composed, watching everything silently. Mastani’s father had desperately tried to teach her these court manners, but failed on watching her giggling. The rest, she knew from Bajirao. He described her in astounding detail, like one would describe the full moon. She was innocent, but was a born empress. She navigated the deadly world of politics with ease, disarming opponents with kindness and taunts at the same time. She had established a strong rapport with her in-laws, and being the daughter of the richest banker in Pune, she had a head for numbers. Baji even described her palace while constructing hers - it was an elaborate architecture, covered with statues and intricate carvings. There were not many gardens and the armoury was absent, but there was instead a well equipped kitchen and atelier, with foreign supplies. Everywhere one looked there was light; the entire structure was covered in arches of diyas, lamps and chandeliers. Her room was painted in bright colours, and there was a coveted bronze statue which must have cost a fortune. Kashi was every inch the empress she was. Shooing the children away, she invited her.

Kashi didn’t know what overcame her, but the poison she carried with her for six years came out pouring like a river. She had no sense of what she was speaking, but she knew it was not fit to be spoken by the Peshwain for the Princess of Budelkhand.

Mastani had expected this. She called her mistress and whore, a destroyer of homes; this she heard everyday – what she hadn’t expected was for her to start crying, then apologize and tell her to be strong, and then invite her to the Padwa function she had organized in the main palace.

That day both danced and revelled, ate food, prayed for happiness and shared as women, and unwittingly both had created a place in the other’s heart.

The next week Baji finally visited Kashi’s palace. The place had changed – it was not lit by lamps anymore. Kashi now knew what she was doing; she lashed out at Baji, called him a thousand cruel names. She reminded him of the way he hurt her, and then didn’t even care to come. So she banned him from her palace henceforth. She then wished him a long life and victory in battle, as he headed out to Hyderabad to quell the Nizam.

Mastani gave Bajirao his armour and swords. The right was reserved for the Peshwain, but Bajirao felt a warrior princess was better suited. He felt eerily calm as he shared a cryptic message with her and then rode off to battle.

Baji had fallen sick with fever and there were sores over his body. Palanquins were readied for Kashi and Radhabai in the dead of night along with a regiment of doctors, nurses, maids, cooks and soldiers as they headed to Rawalkhedi, when Kashi halted the procession. She went down from her palanquin, and rushed out, returning with Mastani and her son. Baji needed her. However Radhabai still had her way – Mastani was to come with the soldiers, cooks and maids later on. She arrived two days after Kashi. Bajirao rushed out of the tent to embrace her. That was the first night his week long fever broke.

There was not much to do, and so Kashi and Mastani spent most of the time together. They talked, laughed, ran, played games, and wept. Before long, both the women were fast friends.v

Baji was declared dead. All were shocked beyond measure. Nanasaheb was called from Pune to light fire to his father’s funeral pyre. He was then anointed Peshwa at Rawalkhedi. Kashi and Mastani now knew the real meaning of separation. They felt as if the precarious thread from which their lives were connected had snapped.

Weeks went by even after reaching Pune till Mastani emerged from her palace. As regnant Peshwain, Kashi was immediately swarmed by duties. Both women started moving towards the other, finding solace in the other’s company. It was time for Kashi to shave her head and burn her clothes and jewellery. Mastani convinced her otherwise – she was a human too, and her life without Baji just had as much meaning as with him. Both gave each other courage, and soon friendship blossomed to love.

They embraced each other in a secluded garden like they were the last humans on earth. Kashi wept, for she thought their relation was not meant to be. Mastani was made of stronger metal. She wrote a letter to her father the next day, asking his permission to marry Kashi. It took a week for the letter to arrive with the best of runners. The letter was in her mother’s writing. Both parents had blessed the union, but advised her to move with caution, even telling her to come back to Banda where she would be safe.

Mastani broke the news to Kashi. Kashi couldn’t believe her ears – what she believed was impure and irrational, was indeed love, and Mastani was willing to sacrifice everything for it. Kashi mustered all her courage and contacted her father too. The letter was delivered to her in secret – her father reaffirmed her that all love is pure, and further warned that if the Peshwas further tried to snatch her daughter’s happiness, he would make paupers out of them. Both sets of parents convinced, the only obstacles left were Radhabai and Nanasaheb.

Radhabai had reformed after her son’s death. She had accepted Mastani and her son, and even inculcated mullahs along with pandits to educate the young Peshwa princes. However, it took a lot of diplomacy and some tears to convince her of the union between a Hindu and Muslim widow.

Nana was a tougher nut to crack. He loved his mother, but still hated Mastani with a burning intensity, blaming her for his mother’s sorrows. He had always stayed under his grandmother’s shadow, and thus his young mind had already developed rigid ideas surrounding religion, caste, and women. It took two months for him to accept the union, after realizing the need for his mother to have a partner, and her right to be happy.

The wedding was conducted with full pomp and gaiety. The entirety of Pune, the Maratha nobility, and the relatives of both the brides arrived for this strange ceremony taking place. The ceremony was conducted through both Hindu and Muslim customs to keep religious tensions to a minimum. Both brides were resplendent and happy, and then retired to their quarters.

Their marriage ushered a new peace in the Maratha empire – strengthening unity and for the first time raising questions about women’s and widows’ rights. Mastani had headed with her son to the Battle of Panipat as a diplomat and was instrumental in brokering peace. Kashi played her part as the Peshwain to perfection, handling the increasingly autonomous Maratha chiefs.

They retired after the battle to a palace within the woods. The women lived in peace, and served as an example for history – that love indeed is boundless.

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thespianbooks · 4 years

Text

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 9//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd. Let me know if you would like to be added!)

A week was all Azriel needed to gather the information we hoped wasn’t true. However, after the first few days, the spymaster realized he would have to gather intel on those closest to Keir without arousing suspicion. When low-level sentries turned up without any knowledge, Azriel moved onto interrogating the stewards' personal army of Darkbringers. Together, he, Cassian and Rhys were able to interrogate the captain of Keir’s army—Rhys wiping his memory clean after every session. He hated to do it, but after gathering details of Keir’s plan and his alliance with Kallon, he knew it was necessary.

There was indeed a coup rising against the Court of Dreams.

We filled Mor and Amren in immediately after Azriel broke the news to us, but decided it was best to leave my sisters unaware—for now. Nesta was finally in a good, albeit still cold, place after the war that took place a decade ago and Elain was also finally returning to her normal self; who she used to be before being forcefully made. My sisters were healing, and the last thing I wanted was to reopen their old wounds by revealing that their lives were once again at risk. Nesta, as observant as ever, knew something was amiss but thankfully didn’t press for any information. For now, and until we had a set plan, we could leave them in the dark.

I did my best to hide my worries in front of them, instead allowing Elain to fuss over me and the baby while Rhys and his brothers gathered intel. With all the anxiety of the coup keeping me on edge, I hardly noticed that my previous symptoms weren’t affecting me as they had before. Granted, I was still so fatigued that I slept in until noon and my nausea still plagued me from time to time; at least I was finally starting to feel some relief, which reassured everyone—especially Elain. Now that I was feeling better, she began begging to help plan the nursery. Years ago, before the completion of the construction on the estate, she asked what we should do for the room attached to mine and Rhys’s suite. I originally wanted that room to be our nursery, but at the time I decided to make it into a sitting room. Knowing that an empty nursery sat just beyond the double-doors in my suite was too painful at the time. So, in the meantime, I wanted to make some kind of use for it; despite Rhys and I hardly ever even using it anyway.

After telling Elain where I wanted the nursery, she focused all of her energy into creating the perfect space for the baby. While the Illyrians focused on gathering the information from the Court of Nightmares, I did my best to shift my attention back onto my pregnancy. At first, I went with Rhys to Hewn City to be present for the interrogations with the captain of the Darkbringers, but we hadn’t taken into account the effect winnowing would have on me during my condition. With my powers being so drained, I couldn’t do it myself, so Rhys had winnowed us in. Upon arrival, I had nearly fainted in my mates’ arms. Alarmed, he winnowed us back to Velaris, causing me to actually faint. Once I regained consciousness, a guilt-ridden Madja was there and informed us of that unfortunate side-effect she forgot to mention at our previous appointments. In her defense, said side-effect didn’t usually develop until later in pregnancy, but thanks to my tendency towards extreme fatigue, it developed sooner. There was no explanation as to why winnowing was so taxing on a pregnant female, but Madja theorized that whatever magic it originated from was the culprit.

We decided then that he would go with Cassian to Azriel’s interrogations of the Captain, and once they had the information we needed, we would schedule our official visit to Hewn City. Fortunately, Madja explained that as long as I gave myself at least an hour rest between winnowing—including some recovery time after the initial trip, that it would be safe. A part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to be there for the interrogations, because after every session Rhys returned physically and mentally drained. Even as he recounted every detail to me, I couldn’t imagine the burden and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The Night Court was his home for centuries; he made many painful sacrifices for the sake of his people. While he did his best to separate himself from the Hewn City, they were still his people; still his court and his ancestors' court. As High Lady for over a decade, it hurt deeply to imagine the threat of a civil war, especially for the innocents here in Velaris. As High Lord for as long as Rhysand was, I knew the pain was worse for him.

“You don’t have to do this every night you know,” Rhys drawled quietly from his place in the tub, summoning me back from my thoughts.

He was leaning on the edge with his chin resting over his crossed arms while I gently scrubbed at his delicately powerful wings. I smiled at his comment, continuing to clean the dirt and debris off his wings. After the first few days of seeing how drained my mate was, I took it upon myself to spoil him with a hot bath—together, to unwind while I cleaned him.

“You won’t let me do anything else since I got pregnant, the least I can do is take care of you,” I replied, dabbing at the other wing with a soft washcloth.

“That’s precisely why. You’re pregnant, and it should be me cleaning you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said as he glanced at my belly, still a small swollen mound.

I tried not to smile. “Your son isn’t that heavy, yet. I’m growing a baby, but you’re,” I paused, not wanting to bring up the ugly business of the day during the time I dedicated just for us. “Doing everything else…”

He was quiet until I finished cleaning his wing and turned to face me before cupping my face in his. “You’re working just as hard as I am Feyre, on top of being pregnant,” he said.

I gripped his wrist lightly, “I know that, but just like you’re taking care of me, I want to take care of you too. This time is for me just as much as it is for you.”

His smile was crooked as he responded, “Fair enough.”

I returned his smile and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. We stayed silent for the duration for our bath, not wanting to disturb our peace, but as soon as we were back in our bedroom, I couldn’t resist bringing up our upcoming plans for our visit to the Court of Nightmares.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I pulled out a light nightgown from my dresser.

Rhys sighed, “After lunch. Cassian and Az want to go over the reports and statements from Keir’s general. We’re trying to piece together a timeline, and Azriel will go alone to finalize details with him while we’re at court.”

I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed after slipping on my nightgown. Now that we had most of the information we needed, tomorrow we would travel to the Hewn City and announce my pregnancy. This would be our way of reminding Keir who he served and would continue to serve. We’d solidify our reign by furthering Rhys’s lineage.

I watched as he dried himself off and changed into his own night clothes, a simple pair of black shorts, and smiled as I imagined what our son might look like at his father’s age. Would the image the Bone Carver gave me continue to evolve to resemble Rhys? Would he have some semblance of me as well? Regardless, I dreamed of him growing to look and act like his father. But the thought of my son one day being High Lord, of having to put on the same cruel façade as the rest of us, made my heart clench and Rhys noticed it in my face. He perched on the space in front of me and gingerly placed both hands on my ever-swelling stomach.

“We’ll teach him well. After all, you had a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe he’ll inherit my humility, because you’re hopeless.”

Rhys threw his head back with a bark of laughter before taking hold of my face to capture my lips in a deep kiss. He held me there for a few seconds, resting his forehead against mine.

“We won’t expose him to the Court of Nightmares until he’s ready and comfortable with it. I won’t put any pressure on him, I promise,” Rhys reassured.

“I know you won’t,” I sighed. “I just...can’t picture that yet. I think.”

“Well we haven’t officially met him,” Rhys said with a smirk. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

I nodded and looked down at my stomach. “For now, I guess you have no choice but to be part of the act, but daddy will make it up to you,” I said with a smile and looked back up at Rhys, who had visibly stiffened at the new word I referred to him as.

He mouthed the word silently as I grinned and brought his hands back to my stomach, “That’s what he’s going to call you, you know.”

He nodded, matching my grin with a wicked one and wiggled his eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me that once in a while either.”

I laughed as I shoved him away, his laughter matching my own as he tackled me onto the bed.

Rhys and I stood alone at the gates outside the throne room in the Hewn City; Mor, Cassian, and Azriel already inside waiting for us at the base of the dais. They had gathered all the citizens of the city inside, on the order that their Lord and Lady were making a notable appearance today. I stared at the dark, cruel, scaled beasts carved on either pillar and ran my hands over the gentle swell of my belly. While getting ready this morning, Rhys pulled out a delicately midnight blue, floor-length, long sleeved gown fashioned of tiny sparkling crystals made to resemble lace. I nearly sobbed when my mate revealed that it was a maternity gown his mother made for me.

The impossibly soft fabric hugged my every curve, the patterned lace forming a deep ‘V’ shape over my breasts and opened in the back, allowing my tattoos to be on display. The sleeves capped at my wrists, the lace blending perfectly with the tattoos on both arms. More importantly, the gown hung over the prominence of my stomach; accentuating it enough to send our message without words. The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court were expecting.

A dangerous announcement to make so early in my pregnancy, but a necessary one thanks to the current looming threat. While we initially feared it would enable Keir to push his and Kallon’s plans into motion sooner than we hoped, now we had our timeline and knew what to expect.

“Ready to be wicked?” Rhys purred as he rested a hand on the small of my back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Glancing again at the beautifully dark and brutal carved beasts on the gates, I nodded with a smirk and turned to him. “Let’s go.”

Both straightening to our full height, Rhys moved his hand to hold mine up as he escorted me into the throne room as the gates groaned open to reveal us to our court. The gathering crowd grew eerily quiet as Rhys and I ascended across the dark marble floor. Then the gasps came as they slowly, one by one, took notice of my stomach.

Though my shoulders were already squared, I tilted my chin up a little higher as the new weight of their observations fell over me. Over the decade I had gotten used to their stares, their murmurings, every time Rhys and I visited. This time was different. A pregnant female was rare and seeing as it had been centuries since a child was born into the ruling family of the Night Court, their gaze almost felt...scandalous. My façade remained as solid as ever as Rhys escorted me to our twin thrones, the crowd ceasing any whispers of my condition as we turned to face them. I sat first, but Rhys remained standing as his eyes met with Keir’s. The male stiffened the second he saw my belly and by the murderous look on Mor’s face, standing at the foot of the dais with the two Illyrians flanking her sides, he must have revealed his immediate disgust.

I could feel Rhys’s front cracking a bit, his dark powers slowly filling the room with shadows as he stared down the steward—who, thankfully, wasn’t sneering this time as he stared back.

“Bow,” was all Rhys said, struggling with the effort to reign in his overprotective instincts from misting Keir on the spot.

While the crowd moved immediately at his order, Keir did so reluctantly, Mor’s mother at his side and following his lead. I sent a gentle wave of my power down the bond in an effort to calm my mate. Don’t let him get to you.

He didn’t respond, instead tightening up his veneer, shadows dissipating, and sat in his throne before waving an idle hand to the court. “Rise,” he commanded.

The crowd moved together as one, and he waved a hand nonchalantly in dismissal; allowing them to return to their business. Keir dismissed his wife and remained across from us before clearing his throat. “I see congratulations are in order,” he commented, his sneer returning as his eyes shifted from our faces to my stomach.

I couldn’t help the protective hand I placed over it, wanting desperately to shield my child, but I instead moved my hand to the top—just below my bust line, emphasizing it more.

“Indeed, though you don’t actually mean it, do you?” Mor drawled, her voice and face fiercely calm.

Keir ignored his daughter and returned his gaze to Rhys, apparently choosing to outright ignore my presence as well, “I take it this means your lineage will pass onto the child?”

“Did you not expect my mate and I to produce any offspring? That I would simply pass my crown onto someone who wasn’t of my blood?” Rhys replied, keeping his stare dark.

Keir shifted on his feet, “I was always under the impression that a powerful High Lord such as yourself would choose not to procreate, why create any direct competition to your rule? Just take a look at the Autumn Court; so many sons all vying for the same throne by any means necessary, including murder.”

His words dripped with disdain, his insinuations mocking. “And yet you chose to try and secure an alliance with the court you warn us of now. From the look of it, you rather idolize the idea of a son overthrowing his father, or vice versa.” I replied, my tone as icy as my mask.

Keir’s shoulders stiffened at my words, his formidable gaze meeting mine. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys’s dark shadows creeping in the corners of the room. Mor and Cassian watched us, their stares deadly and ready to intervene. Azriel was already gone to attend to his mission while we remained.

The steward tilted his head forward in a slight bow, finally acknowledging me. “I would never presume such a thing, milady. As always, I am at your service,” he said, his voice tight.

It took all of my strength not to scoff at his words or snap his neck. Instead, I slowly stood from my throne, leaving my hand on the curved apex of my belly. “My son will inherit this very throne. And if neither I nor my mate grow weary of your existence by then, you will serve him as well.”

“I’m sure your son will rule just as sufficiently, my lady.” He bit back.

The aura in the room shifted as Rhys’s dark shadows were overpowered by my own. I blasted out dark talons of my power and sank them into Keir’s mind, painfully seizing him in place as I took a slow step onto the foot of the dais just a few feet away from Mor and Cassian, who now held their breaths as they watched me. Rhys remained in his throne, his own dark power emanating with mine as I felt a silent nod of approval down the bond.

My heart pounded in my chest from the effort of my display of power, and I felt my knees shake a bit as I continued staring at Keir with an icy smile. “My son will be more than sufficient; I promise you that. As you said, he's the son of a very powerful High Lord. I should also remind you of the power of your High Lady. With the combined powers of all the High Lords in Prythian, including your High Lord, just imagine what his powers would be like? Won’t that be a magnificent sight to behold?”

I tightened my grip on him, and he did his best not to cringe in pain as he managed to hiss, “Yes, milady.”

My power slipped from him immediately as I was unable to hold on, my forehead gleaming with sweat, and it took me a few silent deep breaths before I smiled cruelly. “That’s good to hear.”

Rhys was at my side in a second as my knees trembled again. The exertion it took to intimidate Keir was draining, much more than I had anticipated. I was grateful for my floor length gown hiding my trembling legs as Rhys perched his hand on the small of my back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I just need to sit down. I reassured.

We’re leaving now, don’t worry

Keir was catching his own breath as he stared us down. As much as I didn’t want to reveal any weakness, neither did he. After a minute, he straightened again and tilted his head towards Rhys in a bow. “Is that all you needed milord? Your visit was last minute, and I was in the midst of gathering your reports.”

Azriel had showed up only seconds prior to Keir speaking, giving a silent nod to me and Rhys, indicating he gathered the last of the intel we needed. Rhys waved an idle hand at Keir, “The High Lady and I wanted to share our news and be on our way. Go. Continue to serve me as you have,” he said as he began escorting me back towards the gated doors, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel trailing behind us.

We stopped before stepping into the frame, looking back over his shoulder at Keir--who remained at his same spot before our thrones. “Unless, of course, we grow tired of your existence,” he drawled before we continued out the doors.

The minute we were out of view of him, and the rest of the court patrons, he scooped me up into his arms and flew us into the palace above the mountains, the others right behind us. Amren was waiting in the open hall, seated on a settee, but popped up immediately when she took in my pale features.

“What happened?” She asked, but Rhys ignored her, sitting me gingerly on the settee and kneeling before me to check over my condition.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him and the others as they gathered around me, the jasmine scented breeze already doing wonders to soothe my tired body as I breathed deeply. “That took a lot more effort than it used to, that’s all.”

Mor sighed in relief before grinning smugly, “You did a damn fine job though, the look on his face was priceless.” she boasted.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, “I have to admit, you even intimidated me a little bit.”

I smiled tiredly as Rhys stood, facing them. “It intimidated him for now. Maybe that’ll be enough to stumble his plans with Kallon for a while. That alliance explains why he’s been more and more arrogant these past years, but our news of the baby today threw a wrench in their plans. A temporary one at least.”

“Did you get everything you needed?” I asked Azriel.

Everyone turned to the shadowsinger, who nodded. “I went over our timeline with the general, he confirmed the details, but revealed one more possible player.”

We all paused, and Rhys frowned, “Another alliance?”

Azriel nodded, causing Cassian and Mor to curse. Amren crossed her arms, “Let me guess. Beron?”

He nodded again, and Rhys cursed as I sighed. “He really wants that damn alliance with Beron, doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Did the general know what Beron’s role in all this is?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shook his head, “He only knew that they’ve been exchanging letters. No one seems to know what the letters say, or any other context, but it's rumored that it has to do with the coup.”

“We need to keep interrogating the general,” Cassian said. “He’ll find out eventually, and we need him to keep relaying information.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my grip on his mind, making sure he forgets but also start leading him to inquire about the letters.”

“I can get one of my spies to keep tabs on Keir,” Azriel insisted, but Rhys shook his head.

“This is a better way in. We can’t let Keir know we’re onto him. We already have your spies trailing Kallon and monitoring the camps in the mountains. Kallon thinks it’s part of our normal rotation. If Keir notices the same presence, he’ll connect the dots.” He explained.

Azriel and Cassian nodded in agreement. “So, what do we do now?” I asked, and one by one everyone took notice of my hand idly caressing my stomach.

Now that the Court of Nightmares knew of my pregnancy, word would spread quickly over the entire Night Court, including the Illyrians. Those behind this rising coup would find a way to regroup and create some new plan of action, that was guaranteed. The news of a potential new alliance with another court meant that their numbers were even greater now. My eyes met with Rhys’s as we both realized at the same time what our next move was.

“We need to call on our friends for an early summit meeting.”

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sagurus · 4 years

Text

04. caged

Prompt was: Running out of time: caged.

Using @whumptober2020‘s prompt today.

The original idea behind this is credited to @magpythe; I don’t believe he’s posted any of his writing for this au himself yet, but it’s inspired entirely from a scenario that he started, and then we talked about collaboratively. For some context, this takes place in a world much like our own in terms of scientific rules, except there are magical/supernatural beings (vampires, werewolves, shinigami, kitsune, etc) living among us as well. This was a well-kept secret from the general populace bc those magical beings didn’t want to deal with the backlash, but alas this facade couldn’t last. Humans aren’t handling their new understanding of the world very well :’)

Anyway, onto the story.

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Eighteen hours, fifty-seven minutes, and counting.

The cell was minimalistic and austere. Plain walls behind and beside him. Metal bars before him, looking out at a vacant wall. The opposite side of the holding area. His cell was one of about five in the short hallway, all lined against one side of it, with a door on either end. Each cell was a little under two metres wide and three deep. Saguru’s own cell was the second from the right.

Insofar as he could tell, he was the only one in this particular holding area. In the nineteen hours he had spent here, the only sounds he heard beyond his own breathing were those of officers. It would seem that most non-human individuals who displayed the clinically-induced violent reaction were swiftly neutralized without extenuating circumstances to protect them. He was lucky, he thought bitterly, that nepotism could guarantee him the civility of a holding cell rather than more immediate measures. For other, less fortunate individuals, Saguru imagined that containing them was seen as risky. Or a waste of resources better dedicated to human criminals who had willingly broken the law, rather than innocent non-human civilians forced into a hopeless situation.

How long they intended to hold him here, though, he didn’t know. For all he knew, it could be indefinite. Or he could be released tomorrow. Or meet some more final fate. The seconds ticked by.

Nineteen hours, five minutes. By his calculation, it was almost noon, assuming his timekeeping wasn’t too faulty without the aid of his pocket watch.

The heavy, industrial door fell open and then closed again, sounding out a dulled thud. Footsteps clicked against linoleum tile. Saguru estimated at least three officers, until he belatedly managed to pick out a fourth, much lighter set of steps. Someone slight. A child? He dearly hoped it wasn’t a child’s footsteps he was hearing. There was something strange about them, too. Something about the way that these steps struck and slided across the tile, making them sound…sharp?

The cluster came near enough he could just make out the line of one of the officer’s uniforms. He stayed seated on his cot, listening. He couldn’t see the majority of the group from here, let alone make out whether the owner of the smaller footsteps had, indeed, been a child. There was a solemn air as the door to the cell neighboring his own. Small footsteps padded inside. The cell door shut. A woman’s voice, strained and tense (not with fear—guilt? Stress?) said, “Someone will bring your dinner around seven.”

A beat, something like hesitation hovering in the air, and then the officers’ steps (all three sets) retreating down the hall. Saguru held his breath, waiting for the officers to be out of the holding area entirely.

Once they were gone, he continued to wait, listening in for any activity from his new neighbor.

Saguru’s own arrival into this situation had been a rather unexpected one for all parties involved. The issue was this: the world was rapidly becoming aware of the existence of supernaturally-inclined beings existing among them in society—generally referred to as youkai in Japan. Sensationalized media ensured that this was not well-received, but at the very least most inhuman individuals still managed to keep the truth under wraps and continue to assimilate. Until scientific innovation introduced a drug which garnered no reaction from virtually all humans, but revealed any magically obscured, glamoured, or otherwise concealed features that these other beings possessed. It also bore a few potential unfortunate side effects for some youkai. The most common of these was an uncontrollable violence, pushing the recipient into a dangerous frenzy. In other, rarer cases, the drug had even killed some. The kicker here was that Hakuba labs was a major proponent for the creation of the drug and helped pioneer it. Once the drug left clinical trials, it was determined that it needed to be administered to as much of the populace of Japan as possible, in order to catalog human and youkai population.

Hakuba Takahiro and his ex-wife, Rosalin Caldwell, were both humans. As far as anyone had been aware, Hakuba Saguru was also human. Saguru himself had never doubted this.

That didn’t explain the flurry of flame, the way he had tried to surge out his seat, the loss of sense or understanding, vision gone red in outrage. They had barely managed to restrain him. His father had almost been struck with the explosive fire, before Saguru had somehow managed to extinguish it.

On principle, Saguru had been opposed to the usage of the drug; frankly, the ethical implications were horrifying even without the potential for dangerous side-effects geared specifically toward one party of people. Nevermind the fact there were not yet any laws to protect youkai, nor any clear delineation of a plan to accommodate for them a place in society. He had considered refusing to participate in receiving it and thus being complicit in the cause, but his father had left him little room for argument.

Needless to say, it had all gone very badly. So far, Saguru had not been informed at all about what was being discussed with regards to his fate.

Hell, he still didn’t even understand why it had happened.

In the cell beside Saguru’s, his new neighbor seemed to be getting acquainted with the room. Those strange, precise footsteps seemed to walk its inner perimeter. A few moments later, he heard the sound of the cot squeaking and settling.

Breathing, even and measured, but in a forced way. A restrained way. Holding something in.

Saguru couldn’t think of a single thing he could say to improve the situation. He decided he would wait until he heard some indication that the other would even want conversation.

Hours of mutual silence later, the heavy door opened and shut again. Heavy footfalls approaching from down the hallway. Saguru guessed that it was probably for dinner.

“Who would have thought Beika city’s murder magnet really was a shinigami after all?” the officer observed with an amusement that Saguru found chilling. It seemed to be directed at the neighboring cell, as the officer hadn’t reached Saguru yet.

Beika city’s murder magnet… Dawning horror. There was only one person Saguru could think of who matched that morbid description.

Meanwhile, the officer was met with tense silence. After apparently handing off the food, he moved onto Saguru. Saguru started at him icily. He was silent, privately daring the man to breathe a word in his direction. The officer, this time, was equally silent.

Once the officer was gone, Saguru set his food aside. He didn’t have any appetite to speak of, right now. Instead, he needed to know. “Edogawa-kun, is that you?”

The response was a startled, stammered, “Haku—Hakuba nii-san?” Alarm colored his voice. Clearly, he was just as distressed to find someone familiar here.

Saguru’s heart sank. “Yes, indeed, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here?” Edogawa demanded.

Saguru laid back on the cot, exhaled long and slow. “I suppose I’m not human,” he said simply. “Believe me, it was a surprise to me, too.” He paused, and then ventured, “Are you unhurt?”

He tried to imagine what Edogawa must look like, now. The officer had called him a shinigami, but Saguru wasn’t entirely clear on what, visually, that entailed. Bat wings came to mind. He thought back to the strange sound of the boy’s footsteps. How much of his anatomy had been forced to change to its truer form because of the injection?

“More or less,” was Edogawa’s noncommittal response.

Saguru was still trying to get his head around the fact that the police had put a seven-year-old in a holding cell. Youkai or not, this was a child. What did they intend to do with him?

This had all been much easier when all Saguru had to worry about was his own fate.

Edogawa Conan, as it turned out, made a perfectly good neighbor, and even a pleasant conversation partner. The sheer amount of boredom that came with sitting in a cell with nothing to do for hours that stretched into days was almost enough to forget the horror of their situation. Either way, the only real escape—from the horror or the boredom—was to fill the space with conversation.

Fortunately, there was plenty to talk about. Old cases, literature, trading favorite Sherlock Holmes stories. The situation at hand. It was difficult not to discuss the problem they were in together, as they were both people who couldn’t help but try to study a problem from all angles in order to try to solve it. But inevitably the direction of those conversations turned dark too quickly for Saguru’s comfort. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to focus on the ways things could go wrong.

“Hey, Hakuba,” Edogawa said one day, apparently forgetting to use the honorific (or simply electing to drop it, there being very little bandwidth for Edogawa’s more childish act). “What are you, anyway?”

It was a blunt question, but over the past handful of days, they had mutually elected not to worry too much over politeness. Saguru faltered, before saying honestly, “I haven’t the slightest idea. I suspect one of my parents may not be biologically related to me, and whoever the other contributing party was, was some variety of youkai.” Yesterday, Saguru had been granted a visit by a scientist, who had studied him like a specimen and taken a variety of samples, all while Saguru remained restrained for the scientist’s safety. Never mind the fact that the more alarming skill he (apparently) possessed was manifesting fire without the use of any tools, so he wasn’t sure what good restraining him would do to anybody. Regardless, the examination had gone by without incident, and Saguru suspected that there had been some kind of DNA test conducted, although he had no confirmation as to the results.

Edogawa made a noise of consideration, lapsed into silence, then started again. “Did you change?” He asked, almost delicately.

“I don’t think I did,” Saguru told him. “As far as I can tell, visually everything is still the same as it had been. Admittedly, I haven’t seen my reflection since some time before the incident, so I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty.”

Quiet, again, and Saguru wondered if he should ask if Edogawa had changed, then decided against it. The other boy could tell him if he’d like, but otherwise Saguru didn’t want Edogawa to trouble him with it.

“So, they found out you were youkai because…”

“Because I had—an outburst, yes.” Understatement of the century.

Saguru could hear the grimace in Edogawa’s voice when he asked, “—Was everybody alright?”

“I—” Saguru recalled the violence of his reaction, the flames licking out and nearly making contact in a dangerous way with his father as well as one of the nurses. He recalled the feeling of a vicious snarl contorting his expression and the way he’d surged against the precautionary restraints.

He recalled going perfectly still as soon as he’d regained a handle on himself. The doctor approaching him with a new syringe, and the distant thought, Is he giving me a sedative or is he euthanising me? The foreign, turbulent rage churning inside of him until he’d gone under thanks to the shot (sedative, it turned out).

“Nobody got hurt,” Saguru assured him after a too-long silence. “It was—frightening. But nobody was hurt.”

“—I hurt a nurse,” Edogawa said, and his voice was the sort of stony that belied the great effort of holding in his emotions. “It could have been a lot worse, but I still hurt somebody. Really badly.”

“You can’t fault yourself for it,” Saguru said immediately, sternly. “It speaks volumes about your sense of accountability and responsibility, that you feel guilty for it, but it wasn’t your fault that it happened.”

“If you say so.”

It was their seventh day like this. Still, Saguru received no news any time he asked a passing officer for updates.

Earlier today, Hattori Heiji had visited, apparently to discreetly provide Edogawa some contraband (such as books). Edogawa had kindly requested that Hattori pass one of those books to Saguru. The other detective had been frankly shocked to realize he was here, and despite their usual animosity, the other boy had seemed mostly genuinely concerned for him. When Saguru asked if there was anything Hattori could tell him about the situation, it had been a definite negative. Apparently his situation was being kept well out of the hands of the media, at least for now. Saguru could only imagine his father must have told the school that he was on some sort of vacation, or had accepted a case which required him to head overseas again. Nobody would be worried about him, then.

Now, the visit was over and they had lapsed into silence while they, for the moment, privately entertained themselves. Rather than read, Saguru had tucked the book away for later, and was instead practicing what little exercise he could to keep his body active. Right now it was warm-up stretches. He desperately ached to go on a run.

At some point, Edogawa cut into the silence.

“What do you think is going to happen, Hakuba?” and then, hastily added, “—nii-san.” He sounded pensive, uncertain. He didn’t sound afraid, but Saguru thought that he might be anyway.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, opting for honesty rather than false hope. “It’s been a week and we’re still here. I don’t know what anyone’s plan for us is.”

“Yeah…” Edogawa trailed off, deep in thought. Saguru wondered if it would have been better to say that he was sure things would wind up working out. The problem was, he wasn’t sure. He had been under the impression that he would be placed under holding until they worked out the best circumstance to harness or otherwise stifle his apparent abilities, and then return him to something like normal life, but with a tight leash.

But now it had been seven days, with no developments, and Saguru was beginning to wonder if this was all much more dire than he had thought.

They both went quiet again, only for Edogawa to speak up just as abruptly as he had before. “—I need to tell you something.”

Puzzled, Saguru went still. “Proceed.”

“It’s pretty unbelievable, so I need you to bear with me. Okay?”

Edogawa seemed to do a lot of things that fell quite near the ‘unbelievable’ category, in Saguru’s experience. Much like Kuroba tended to, although they had different styles in the ways they defied reality. “I’ll do my best to keep an open mind,” he assured Edogawa.

“My name isn’t really Edogawa Conan,” he began.

And the sky was blue, and Kaitou KID was Kuroba Kaito. “Mm.”

“It’s actually Kudou Shin’ichi, and I’m really seventeen, not seven.”

So this is what Edogawa meant when he said it was unbelievable. He couldn’t help but wonder if Edogawa was engaging in a delusion to cope with the frankly traumatic situation they had found themselves in. “Is that so?” he inquired, honoring his promise to keep an open mind. Edogawa was right, though. This was difficult to believe.

Edogawa made an irritated sound, like he could tell Saguru didn’t believe him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, and almost no one knows. I want you to know. I—a year and a half ago, I went with Ran to Tropical Land, and worked that case with the roller coaster beheading.”

Saguru recalled the news reports of that case all too well. Truly, it had been a particularly gruesome case, so he was eternally gratefully it hadn’t been him on the scene.

“There were these suspicious men there, and after I solved the case I left Ran so I could tail them and figure out what they were up to. But one of them surprised me from behind, knocked me out, and gave me this—drug,” allegedly-Kudou-Shin’ichi explained. “It was supposed to kill me via apoptosis, but instead it… de-aged me. ”

It was certainly a lot to process. It felt a little bit like the plot of a bad science fiction. But he spoke with urgency, and he was clearly being genuine. Although Saguru was still inclined to lean toward delusion, he decided to consider his way through the facts he had from his limited research into the whereabouts of Kudou Shin’ichi. It was true that the same day Kudou disappeared, Mouri Ran had wound up taking in Edogawa Conan. It would explain the strange amount of knowledge and understanding Edogawa possessed, especially in terms of investigating crime scenes and solving cases. It also clarified anachronistic errors—moments when Edogawa would say he’d seen something when it was first released, even though it should have come out well before his birth date.

After analyzing the facts, Saguru realized there was nothing (beyond his own understanding of scientific development) that disproved the claim. None of the facts he had specifically proved it either, though. He didn’t know the other detective well enough to quiz Edogawa in order to prove it for himself, either.

He thought back to their previous conversation. They didn’t know, really, what would become of them here. If they would make it out of here. Perhaps this was a delusion, but if so, Saguru didn’t think it would do any good to deny the other that. It certainly wouldn’t change anything for the better in the short term.

Saguru resolved that he would take the other boy at his word, and, should he have the means and opportunity if they got out of this, he’d pursue it more critically then.

“—I see,” he said, nodding slowly although Kudou couldn’t see him. “It is good to have gotten to know you, then, Kudou-kun. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

When the other boy next spoke, it was obvious to Saguru that something coiled very tightly had unwound. The relief was nearly palpable. “It’s good to meet you too, Hakuba-kun. Here’s to hoping we make it out of this so that we can keep getting to know each other.”

They could only hope. “I’ll do my best to remain optimistic,” Saguru murmured in agreement.

#dcmk #hakuba saguru #kudou shinichi #kudo shinichi #edogawa conan #october writing #october 2020 #whumptober #my writing

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid

Pairing: Klance: Keith Kogane/Lance Mcclain

Summary: Lance has lived a pretty simple life since being turned into a vampire. He’s got his house, his cat, and his two besties that have no idea he’s a vampire thanks to his awesome acting skills... He thought he was happy, that things were fine, that he wasn’t drawing too much attention to himself... and then he met Keith.Big, dumb, hot, emo, stupid Keith. Keith that went and flipped his life upside down, because, seriously, Keith really was a special kind of stupid.Vampire Lance x Vampire Hunter Keith

READ ON AO3

People sucked. People truly, madly, unequivocally, completely and totally sucked. That’s why Lance had brought his farmhouse outside a the tiny speck of a town barely found on most maps. He hadn’t lead a particularly long life, at least not when compared to others suffering from the same condition as he had, yet in his short time, he’d come to hate people. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t hate everyone. He had two best friends that meant the world to him, Pidge and Hunk. Both paranormal investigators, and both blind to his unusualness. No. What Lance held issue with was the continued hunting of his kind by the Vatican. His “ancestors” may have bathed in blood, and sacrificed virgins, all that kind of hooky-huha that one reads in scary stories, but before he’d been made a vampire, he liked to think he’d been a happy enough well liked kid, and he liked to think that even these days he still carried an air of that charm whenever he was forced from his home.

Garrison was a tiny town 50kms away from Platt City, founded during the Third World War, the city held plenty of ghostly secrets which had drawn both Hunk and Pidge to the area. Boasting a single Main Street, the highlights of the town were limited to tourist traps and three pubs on the Main Street. It was while studying at Platt University that he’d met both his best friends, twenty years his juniors, yet thanks to his unwanted immortality his body had stopped maturing roughly around the age of 18, making it easy to join the crowded university with a few falsified papers. His intention was to refresh his legal skills in order to keep up with the time’s. With the help of his Mami, he’d moved somewhere small and private, to a dead beat town that accepted weirdness as an everyday occurrence thanks to the tourists that came to see the ghosts of soldiers passed. When he’d been a kid, he’d always dreamed of being an astronaut, yet had chosen law to help those less fortunate in some kind of redemption for his condition. Being immortal meant keeping up with the times, though his house retained much of its old “Victorian” charm. Plus, with Platt being so close, it made for an easy drive up there every three weeks to pick up new blood bags. He was in no way a stereotypical vampire other than his need for blood. He wore glasses, because his eyesight was so good his mind couldn’t process everything he was seeing. This came with the unfortunate side effect of being clumsy as hell. He’d come from a Catholic family, meaning he believed in the presence of God. He’d also never drunk from a human, and never taken a human as pet or a lover like some did. When he wasn’t tagging along with Pidge and Hunk to ensure they didn’t accidentally summon something nasty, most of his time was devoted to providing low cost family legal advise.

Perhaps because he hadn’t been born a vampire, he’d retained many of his human ways. Sunlight didn’t turn him to ashes. Garlic gave him pretty bad stomach cramps and indigestion, which could be fobbed off with the excuse of an allergy. Silver gave him hives, again, something that could be passed off as an allergic reaction. He refused to harm animals for blood. He refused to bite another human, despite the fact a bite wouldn’t turn one anyway. They needed to be drinking his blood for that to happen, and after how he’d been turned, there was no way he’d ever do that to a mortal. He showed up in photographs, though his eyes always came out red instead of their usual bright blue. Mirrors weren’t exactly his friend, but not because he couldn’t see himself, instead because he hated seeing himself. They didn’t magically show his “vampire face”, instead they reminded him he’d never grow old. At the ripe age of 44 he looked 18. Even when he turned 100, he’d still look 18. It was thoroughly depressing. Unlike some vampires he didn’t have a coven, or a pack. His house only held him and his cat Blue, who he’d found as a tiny kitten under the steps leading up to the porch. She’s was black, fluffy, and an absolute princess in his eyes. Other than the general upkeep of his house, blood costs and the very occasional splurge on new clothes, most of the money he made went to spoiling his little princess. He wasn’t sure if Blue was part vampire, her teeth had always been sharp, as kitten he’d dug her out by the scruff of the neck, her tiny little teeth were far too cute as they buried themselves into his hand. She’d never acted like she was, but she also preferred to stay inside and had a personality that rivalled some of the most twisted “Queen” vamps he’d met. Then again, everyone knew cats were temperamental arseholes, so maybe Blue was simply being the snobby cow she was born to be.

All in all, Lance had nothing to complain about in his life. He was happy, content, safe in the knowledge no one about to ruin that anytime soon.

Pulling into the parking lot of their usual dive, Sal’s burgers wasn’t the most popular place in town, making it the perfect place to hang out. Located 10kms out of town on the road to Platt City, seemingly an inconvenience the locals, most of Sal’s customers came from tourists needing to stop because their kids needed the toilet. A few of the older locals had dedicated seats at the service bar, and maybe one or twice a week people spiced it up from their usual coffee shops on Main Street, but all in all, the lack of customers is what Lance loved about it. The whole place looked as if the 50’s had left it behind, from its pastel pink exterior to the cheesy green and silver breakfast stools at the c go heck board service bar. From his parking space he could already see Pidge and Hunk waiting for him in their usual booth. Hunk’s head thrown back as he laughed at something, probably at Pidge’s expense.

Cutting the engine, Lance grabbed up his wallet, phone, and gloves. He wasn’t exactly the warmest of people to begin with, but this freezing weather was likely to turn him into an undead popsicle. Already dressed in his favourite khaki jacket, Lance did a quick double check pat down before climbing out his battered blue four wheel drive. She was old, had one too many rust spots and didn’t like starting on days like today, but he’d had her since he’d graduated college the first time around. His Mami was always nagging at him to get rid of her, to use some of his money to buy something better, something that didn’t have roll down windows and a dodgy CD player. His first car was his first real taste of freedom after being turned. They’d been through a lot together, leaving him unable to say goodbye to her. That’d be like cutting him own arm off.

Sal gave him a wave as Lance walked in, the man was a teddy bear under his perpetual 5 o’clock shadow and greasy apron. His policy seemed to be that if someone couldn’t respect him like this, they weren’t worth his respect in return

“Hey’a there, Lance. Pull up a seat and I’ll bring your usual over”

“Thanks, Sal. You’re the best!”

Sal grumbled, Lance pretending he didn’t hear every low word about him. Bringing up that Sal secretly liked him well enough would only leave the old man flustered. For the sake of their “friendship”, he played along with Sal’s mumbling translating into how much of a pain he was. With a bounce in his step, Lance headed over to Pidge and Hunk, throwing himself into the booth as he wrapped his arms around Hunk

“Lance!”

“It’s soooo cold! Warm me up!”

Hunk hugged him back

“I’ve got you, bro! You’re freezing...”

“And you’re late. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago”

Lance sighed dramatically as he rolled his eyes at his favourite tech gremlin

“You know how she gets in cold weather”

“Who? There better not be anything and wrong with my Princess”

“Pidge, you should know by now that when Lance talks like that, he’s talking about his car... right?”

Lance grinned

“Of course I’m talking about my girl. And my Princess is perfectly happy. Blue was curled up under my blankets when I left”

Pidge pouted at him

“You could have brought her with you. I miss my Blue cuddles”

“You could try coming by the house. She was in a mood when I left”

Lance had a backpack carrier for her, but Blue would have frozen her perfect little toe beans out in the weather today. He’d left the heated blanket on a timer for her, unable to keep from spoiling his princess. Pidge’s hand left her laptop keyboard to grab her mug of coffee

“But your house is soooo far away. Anyway, we’re here to talk about work. I was on this forum last night, and someone swore they met a werewolf. Can you imagine? Hunk told me to stop scaring him”

Hunk... Hunk was the biggest ray of sunshine Lance had ever met. The poor man got every single form of motion sickness know, but that never once stopped him. He was terrified of ghost stories, not the best constitution to have when one is a ghost hunter... No, paranormal investigator. He’d been told there was a difference, but honestly it all sounded the same. People loved to think of the unknown, that world existing just out of their everyday mundane lives. Having been in that world for as long as he had been, Lance would happily pay for a boring mundane life

“I wasn’t scared... I’m... cautious”

Pidge clucked at Hunk, Hunk flipping her off. Laughing at him, Pidge wasn’t easily swayed

“You’re a chicken. What about you, Lance? Do you believe in werewolves?”

Werewolves were dicks. He’d bumped into a few over the years, and they’d done nothing to persuade him that they weren’t. The only thing they had going for them was their commitment to their mates and family, other than that, they were testosterone filled morons with claws.

“I don’t know... I feel like they’d all be too stupid to hide their existence”

“Wolves are incredibly smart... Fine, let’s put that one the back burner. Now, about work, there’s a group of tourists that want to come through the old hospital. The visitors centre in town gave me a call about it. Apparently they pay reeeeeeally well”

They’d have to. The old hospital was “cursed”. It’d been converted into a professional centre, but three years after the renovations they closed the building down thanks to the high number of injuries. If there were ghosts there, it was doubtful they’d care to bother with the employees. They all had their own issues. Lance held the opinion it was more a spate of psychosomatic symptoms resulting from the first accident. The building had been handed back over to the town, where it’d sat empty until it reopened as a military museum. With a bored sigh, Lance resigned himself to the fact that Pidge had already gone ahead and decided this was happening. Patting Hunk on the arm, the big man let him go

“When is this all supposed to be happening?”

Pidge’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Lance loved that about her. The top of her head barely came to his chin, but her pint sized stature didn’t stop her. She was always up for a laugh, and frightfully adapt with all things technology based. One of their first conversations came about because Lance had dropped his phone down the stairwell, smashing the screen as it bounced. Seeing her notice pinned up at the campuses cafe, he’d reached out to her with no idea they’d still be besties so many years later. From memory she had an older brother who was as much of a nerd as she was, while her mother and her father both worked in some private sector. He’d met them once over a family dinner Pidge dragged him to, seen them half a dozen times on their front steps as Pidge fled from their parental yelling, and finally been stuck in a very awkward conversation with Pidge’s father, Sam, when he’d found Bae-Bae, the missing family dog who Pidge had brought along on one of their ghost hunts

“Tonight. We’ve got permission to start once the museum shuts for the day. The tour starts at 8, so we’ll go in, set up, have something to eat, then scare the shit out of them at 8”

“You didn’t tell me it’s tonight!”

Poor Hunk. His poor heart had no time to come to terms with this. His worrying only made Pidge smile wider

“Relax, it’ll be fiiiine. Lance is coming with us. He’ll protect you from anything spooky”

“Why do I have to protect you? What are you going to do? Sue the ghosts for giving you the heebie-jeebies? Sorry, that’s not my specialty”

Pidge slid her glasses down to the tip of her nose as she puffed her chest out

“Ha, he, ho, I’m Lance and I have a fancy law degree! Those ghosts better think twice before looking at me”

Lance laughed way too hard, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes, his black frame glasses nearly falling off. Pidge pushing her glasses back into place as Sal brought over Lance’s pancakes and coffee. The man simply placing them down before backing away without a word

“Oh my god, Pidge. That was awful”

“It wasn’t that awful. So, Hunk, you’re in snacks for the night. Lance is in charge of driving, and I’m in charge of the tech. What are we forgetting?”

“That we value our lives and don’t really want to do this?”

Pidge sank lower in her seat, a soft thud coming as Hunk gasped in pain

“What was that for?!”

“Being a chicken”

“I’m not a chicken”

“Are too...”

Picking up his fork, Lance calmly cut in on their fight

“Children, don’t make me seperate the pair of you. Hunk, you’re big, brave, and very manly. Pidge, you’re so fucking short you couldn’t even covertly kick him under the table. If we’re going out, I need to stop by home on the way. Blue needs her wet food for the night, and no, she’s not coming tonight. It’s going to storm as it is”

Crossing her arms, Pidge slumped back in her seat

“You just want to keep my Princess all to yourself. Hunk can leave his car here and we’ll take yours”

“I thought my house was too far away to visit?”

“It’s not when you’re the one driving. Hurry up and finish your pancakes, I wanna go already”

Lance looked down at the forkful he’d been about to load in his mouth, purposely cutting the stack in half to annoy Pidge. Scoffing down Sal’s pancakes was an insult to the man who’d made cigarette ash in pancakes edible. The lack of hygiene may have been another reason why the locals stayed away, but when you’re immortal, standards kind of went out the window

“Laaaaance. Nooo. What are you doing?”

“Enjoying my breakfast. Order another coffee... actually, order some warm milk, I can see you practically vibrating from the amount of caffeine in our bloodstream”

“I’ll have you know that the level of blood in my caffeine stream is just fine. Plus, you’re like the only person in the world who enjoys Sal’s pancakes!”

“Oi! I heard that, Katie Holt!”

Pidge ducked down further in her seat at Sal’s voice. A couple of regulars laughing at her embarrassment, as Pidge blushed

“Now look what you’ve done”

“Not my problem, Pidgeroonie”

“Watch your back, I’m going to get you tonight, then steal away Blue”

Lance shrugged, unfazed by her threat. Tonight would be another lame arse tour under the belt, the most exciting thing they could expect was some jump scare.

#accidentally started a new fic #klance #bottom Lance #mpreg #voltron

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puddygeeks · 4 years

Text

December - The 100 Bellamy Blake/Indigo Sloan AU One Shot (We Come Running AU)

Requested: No

Word Count: 2028

Warnings: None needed :)

Masterlist

A/N: This was my first ever AU, I’ve never gone out of canon before so it was really fun to imagine what The 100 characters would be like in our world. Let me know your thoughts on their jobs/attitudes and how they fit in this :)

Requests are open! I’d love to write more of your ideas <3

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

-----

The thumping of the bass was almost deafening as I concentrated on reading lips over the crowded bar. Christmas Eve in New York City was the stuff of nightmares for bartenders, but here I was juggling bottles and straining to balance the work amongst the chaos. It was fortunate that I was experienced enough to manage the crowds and I had the confidence of knowing that at least one member of our security staff was keeping a close eye on me should anything get out of control. There was a cheerful, festive atmosphere filling the space and although it made for a fun shift, I couldn’t help watching the clock as I eagerly awaited going home for my own celebrations. My heart leapt in my chest as I glanced up to discover that it was finally time and I began undoing my apron as my manager rushed over with a frantic expression.

“Oh Indie, you’re not done already?! Is there any chance at all that I could convince you to stay on a little bit longer?” He gasped, seeming thoroughly frazzled by the activity and I dropped my apron under the bar with a satisfied smile.

“I’m sorry but I can’t, I have plans and a certain someone will be waiting for me.” I answered with my hands held up as I squeezed past him in the tight space and although he looked disappointed, he was also understanding. “I only agreed to work tonight for you, you know I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, Sinclair.” I added with a wink and he chuckled as he settled into managing the flow of staff to cover me.

“And you know that I appreciate you for it! Have a great time you lovebirds.” He cheered behind me as I waved over my shoulder and wandered through the old wooden doors to step out into the street. I turned to find a group of bouncers chattering near the entrance and strolled over with a smirk. It was easy to spot my target, he stuck out with his long, curly hair and large stature.

“Come on Mr Workaholic, aren’t you done yet?” I crooned as I tapped Bellamy on the shoulder and he spun around to fix me with a dazzling smile.

“Hey, you’re out on time! It is possible!” He teased and I jabbed at him playfully. We jointly gave our colleagues Christmas wishes before falling into step together through the city. There was a strong breeze and I shivered, shocked by the bitter temperature. I had been dressed plenty warm enough for the bar in my red leather-look leggings, white blouse and black parental advisory jumper but as per usual I had forgotten a coat for the walk home. Without a second thought, Bellamy slid off his heavy work jacket and wrapped it around me, enveloping me in it’s second hand warmth. I glanced over at him gratefully, only to notice that he actually wore a denim jacket underneath and sniggered under my breath.

“Am I that predictable that you need a second jacket nowadays?” I commented and his silent smirk was plenty of an answer.

In truth, I liked wearing Bellamy’s clothes, as they were so huge that I could get lost in them and it gave me a strange sense of comfort. My heeled boots clicked on the pavement as we strolled through the familiar streets hand in hand and occasional pockets of festive music greeted us as we passed the buzzing nightlife. Above our heads, the sparkling lights and decorations lit our way home and I basked in the magical feeling of the date. I peeked over at Bellamy, who seemed equally content and smiled to myself. He wore black skinny jeans with a chain on the side and a deep grey jumper under his jacket, and I was consistently surprised by his ability to make even the simplest of outfits look charmingly stylish.

We neared our apartment building and I followed Bellamy up the cold staircase with relief. I was immediately flooded with warmth as he unlocked the door and we stepped into our small but homely space. I rushed inside and made a beeline for the bathroom as Bellamy chuckled at me from behind. It was my least favourite part of my job that I had to get glamorous for every shift and it had become a running joke between us that the first thing I did when we got home was always to scrub away any trace of makeup. Behind me, he switched on the tree lights and various other strings of fairy lights that I’d spaced around in an effort to be festive, whilst I made myself comfortable. I felt immediately better with a clean face, and tied my hair up in two scruffy little space buns before changing into an old jumper and fuzzy socks. I stepped out of the bathroom to a snort of laughter from Bellamy, who was studying me in disbelief.

“Is that my jumper, Trouble?” He drawled and I looked down at myself with a smile. It was admittedly ridiculous on me, more closely resembling a dress as it hung down by my knees and I returned my attention to him with a gleeful smile. “I wondered where it had gone. Looks better on you anyway.” he conceded as I padded over to him and realised that he had also taken the opportunity to change into his well loved joggers that always made his butt look fantastic.

“I’ve been a terrible influence on you. Remember when you used to go out and party?” I crooned as I indicated toward the trackies and he shrugged carelessly at me.

“And now I’m stuck in with the most beautiful girl in the city, making hot chocolate. Poor me.” He remarked with a genuine smile that made my stomach fizz with excitement.

“Ooh, we’re making hot chocolate?!” I gasped and he shook his head with amusement as he strolled into the kitchen. The truth was, I had once worried that he might grow bored of our simple existence, when I only knew him as Octavia’s playboy older brother, but in the time that I’d come to know him better, I realised that we shared a love for the little things in life and we’d grown comfortable in our blissful little bubble. Sure, we had our disagreements and at times those would get quite heated, but on the whole we worked as a team and supported each other, and I was thankful for Octavia’s meddling to force us together.

We settled down on the sofa with our matching mugs of hot chocolate, each generously topped with whipped cream and marshmallows, and Bellamy set the tv to a classic black and white Christmas movie. I had to move the selection of law books spread across the coffee table in order to make space for our drinks and I cursed myself for dedicating so much time to studying that I didn’t even have space to live.

“Thank god I don’t have classes for a while, this semester has been a real bitch.” I grumbled as I tucked my feet up onto the seat and snuggled in closer to my lover.

“It’ll all be worth it when you’re out there shouting: objection!” Bellamy did a dramatic impression that almost caused him to spill his drinks and I sniggered at him in satisfaction.

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. Maybe you should be the lawyer.” I teased and he rolled his eyes at me. “Did Marcus say anything else about getting you enrolled at the police academy?” I enquired with a warm smile and he seemed enthusiastic as he considered my question.

“Yeah, he’s gonna put me forward for the next exam. He thinks the security experience will really help me to stand out.” He revealed eagerly and I felt a wide grin spread across my lips.

“That’s great Bel! Oh, I’m so pleased for you.” I breathed as I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and we snuggled up to watch the movie. It was wonderful to see things coming together so well and I couldn’t help feeling that we were starting to build our lives. I jumped as Bellamy suddenly got to his feet and strolled over to the window.

“Hey Indie, look! It’s snowing!” He called and I rushed to my feet to join him looking down at the city being showered in a flurry of thick snowdrops that seemed to have come from nowhere.

“Woah!” I gasped as my eyes widened in wonder and we stood side by side in awe, feeling as if we were inside the perfect tourist snowglobe. “I hope we can get to Clarke and Lexa’s okay tomorrow.” I thought aloud and Bellamy shot me a reassuring look.

“It’s not that far, Love. We’ll walk if we have to, we can’t let the family down.” He asserted and I nodded in response. “How do you think O is getting on with Lincoln’s family right now?” He asked with a mischievous smile and I hummed thoughtfully.

“Probably wishing she was here as normal. I’m glad they decided to spend some time there though, she should get the chance to know them.” I commented idly and he peered at me with a raised brow. “Besides, he adores Tavi more than I’ve seen anyone love someone else, I’m sure his family will love her too.” I added sternly and I chuckled.

“I hope you’re right.” He muttered, before turning fully away from the window to fix me with an inscrutable look. “Well, personally I’m glad that it’s just the two of us this year, as it means I can give you an early present.” He divulged and I examined him suspiciously.

“We’ve never done Christmas Eve presents before?” I drawled as I smiled at him coyly and he led me back to the tree with an excited bounce in his step.

“Maybe I just can’t wait any longer to give you this one.” He suggested as he rummaged around in the mountain of presents that hadn’t been packed up yet to go to our family tomorrow. I waited with a nervous anticipation until he suddenly leaned back and my mouth dropped open in shock. It took a few moments for the reality of what was happening to register in my mind as I realised that he was only leaning on one knee. He opened the delicate box that he was holding out to me to present a sparkling ring.

“Indigo Sloan.” He began and I could hardly get my breath as I took a hand to my mouth and he smiled perfectly in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. “Every day since we met, you’ve made my life better. I’ve never before been glad that Octavia got detention, but I’m thankful that she did that day in high school so that she could meet you. You inspire me to be the best that I can be, you hold me accountable, you support me endlessly and you make me smile like no one ever has. I can’t imagine my life without you. Would you make my life complete by marrying me?” His voice shook with nerves as he spoke and I battled to hold back a wave of tears that threatened to escape.

“Yes, of course!” I gasped in a strangled cry and he slid the ring onto my trembling hand. I could hardly believe my eyes until he jumped to his feet to pull me into a sloppy kiss. My heart swelled to the point of bursting as our lips danced against each other and I felt my cheeks getting damp. We broke apart to examine each other with matching grins and I could hardly express the excitement that pulsed through my body. “Oh my god, everyone is going to freak out tomorrow!” I exclaimed as I considered the reactions of our varied family and felt a fresh wave of anticipation.

“I don’t know about you, but I think Indigo Blake has a nice ring to it.” He crooned confidently as he leaned in for another celebratory kiss and I keenly obliged.

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callme--starchild · 4 years

Text

Observer

If enough attention was paid to each Duck triplet, it was remarkable that, while together they were a recognizable team, independents had their own strengths.

The triplet dressed in red was intelligent and temperamental. You constantly saw her in the public library, writing in her guidebook or accompanying her Woodchuck troop. It is who mostly participates in classes.

The triplet dressed in blue was the energetic, theater kid. You constantly saw him in the school plays or surrounded by people both in the classroom and in the cafeteria. It is who, in turn, participates more in P.E.

And the triplet dressed in green was schematic and greedy. You constantly saw him in the halls with his cellphone, chatting with students in a discreet attempt to defraud them or simply observing his surroundings parsimoniously. He's the most relaxed, but who had the highest average in math.

It could be said that Dahlia always knew what to say — unless she should lie, of course. Dewford always knew when to act.

On the other hand, Llewellyn always knew how to act.

He didn't know if he went oblivious or they just ignored him, but the occasions when he looked up from his cellphone or while scribbling in his notebook were not meaningless. Maybe it gave a lazy perspective on him, but that didn't mean he didn't do anything unlike his brothers.

Well, not always.

Because yes, each triplet had its own virtue. Louie's, however, was discreet.

And he was the observer.

Of course, all three had sharp eyes; but by not focusing on an extracurricular activity, he could focus on certain aspects that his siblings don't.

For example, how Dollie was uncomfortable when they highlighted her masculine features — which, by the way, were still not very noticeable as they still did not enter puberty — and how her shoulders tensed, trying to keep calm so that a outburst didn't get her in trouble with the teachers.

Until it turned out and, of course, it ended up in Uncle Donald arguing with the headmaster for allowing teasing and insults towards his niece.

Or how Dewey watched his arm during the exams, believing himself to be subtle enough. He never said anything in defense of his brother. Sometimes he was discovered, sometimes not, but that allowed his older brother to maintain good grades, at least within the average.

Or how stressed Donald looked day to day.

And that technically was the most unnoticed, so Louie was surprised to be able to visualize it because, as notorious as it was, his uncle commonly tried not to prove it, much less in front of them.

But the more he grew, the more obvious it was, and the harder it was for him to keep quiet about it.

Four-years-old. The nights when he woke up due to a nightmare and went to seek comfort in his uncle's arms, he stopped in his steps when he not saw him in his room and, instead, saw him in the dining room with a calculator, a notebook and several papers surrounding him. Some had words written in red, words whose meaning would be sure he would look for the next morning with support from his brother, but he knew they should be important if they kept him up late at night. His nightshirt looked wrinkled and his feathers scruffy.

While that was the first time he saw him in that state, it certainly wasn't the last, always hidden on the stairs.

Anyway, whatever kept his father figure occupied did not allow him to see that one of the ducklings was awake.

"Each time they are more indebted, and I can't ask for help from... it would be one more." Donald muttered every night, and Louie never understood how the sentence ended, or who he mentioned, but he was sure he was always a different person. Sometimes a group of people.

That was the beginning of the most durable nanny stays; and certainly the ones that he and his brothers enjoyed most were Cousin Max, triplets that were friends with his uncle, and Grandma Duck.

The greatest dose of good luck was when Uncle Gladstone suddenly came to visit with Grandma. He could say that a small part of his uncle's debts had been reduced, and perhaps that was the most tearful thanks he could have given.

Six-years-old. One more move. His uncle was not clear about it, but the triplets were already accustomed to them. Of course, every time the residences and apartments became smaller, impossible for a small broken family to support.

The only difference is that on that occasion they went to a small houseboat. He had heard Donald talk about one last hope, and he really seemed hesitant to let three hyperactive toddlers be in the limited space of a boat that clearly needed repairs.

That was the last move. And although the visits of Max, April, May and June were critically reduced and Grandma looked after them selflessly, they made her uncle's absences more noticeable; sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, and Louie couldn't help crying silently when he recognized the gentle, familiar touch tucking him and stroking his hair, to end with a kiss on his head.

"I'm so sorry, boys." Donald will apologize every night, his voice broken, and the desire to get up and snuggle in his arms, crying how much he missed him, it didn't spare him.

Don't get him wrong, he loves both Elvira and Max, and he got fond of the triplets. But they were not the person who changed his diapers — with the occasional exception of his grandmother — and taught him to talk and walk.

But he knew he couldn't. Being so considerate of them, it would amount to more time at home and less time at work, it would amount to more economic difficulties.

Louie couldn't be the evil triplet with his uncle. Much less when less than a week ago he had heard him cry during a phone call, begging to keep his job.

And while he never told his brothers about it, that image was still in his head.

He didn't want it to be repeated.

Seven-years-old. It could be said that living in a small place further sharpened the sight of an imaginative preschool child. Like the way in which, during the month, the shopping list was shortened, particularly when their birthdays or Christmas approached; how restless his uncle got when there were sales, and how concentrated he looked while comparing prices.

And how his knuckles tightened in the shopping cart when there were whispers and murmurs dedicated to them.

Apparently single parents are not a common thing in Duckburg, especially in the case of triplets, but it was no lie that Louie was happy with them despite the many difficulties.

He recognizes the expression on Donald's face when he tries not to have an outburst of anger and prefers to make deaf ears, making calculations and trying to make purchases with a low budget.

And to tell the truth, it was Louie's cusp moment to approach the carts of people who spoke ill of their uncle to take what he can while they are distracted...

Occasionally it was from the shelves where he took the food from, and fortunately his visualization of the angles allowed him to recognize when to do his thing, counting on brothers who covered his back.

The important thing was to have food in their fridge.

That year is founded Louie's Kids, and though it is difficult, he cannot say no to his uncle's smile, always willing to help even if it's out of his way.

Who knows, maybe one day he's as rich as Scrooge McDuck and can help Donald. Huey already does it with the electricity bill after all.

Nine years-old. Dahlia Duck is born.

He had never seen his sister so scared since joining the Junior Woodchucks — and, honestly and surprisingly, it had been merely good luck that his Uncle Donald will still have his uniform of his time in the troop.

But she was very intelligent, and it wouldn't be long until her gender dysphoria, whatever that was, had meaning.

And he couldn't be more grateful for it. He loved Dollie very much but having seen her so nervous and not being able to ask her without her becoming a trembling mass was driving him crazy.

"I have a sister!" Dewey would shout at the four winds before pouncing on her and hugging her between laughs.

He had simply raised his thumb in support, and for some reason his uncle was on the verge of tears. He had shared a few words with his sister alone and finally saw them again while they prepared dinner together.

And though everything had finished well and during the next few days her sister's poles had modernized and were now dresses, in addition to the addition of skirts and overalls to the closet — courtesy of an adult who made Halloween costumes for almost a decade —, it had made that adult more overprotective.

"Let me know if they bother you." For some reason, he looked more nervous than usual while arranging his niece's cap, even aghast, the smaller triplet thought while he finished his breakfast.

"Yes, Uncle Donald," the little duckling replied once more, finishing fixing her backpack to continue helping Donald as she used to do every morning.

The adult sighed, finishing preparing the last lunch.

"I know I've said it many times, but not everyone reacts the same, even in the 21st century there are people who feel superior to you for thinking differently and... I just want you to be well." He had crossed his arms, and his gaze had turned bright and distant.

"I know," smiling gently, his older sister ceasing to help her guardian to hug him, not caring if she wrinkled her clothes.

He didn't know what they had talked about, but apparently it had made them closer, and for some reason he couldn't face it.

So he did what he always did and preferred to get distracted and continue eating before his breakfast finished chilling. Although he will try to hide it from his nephews and niece, Louie's keen eye was still feeling his uncle's tension.

He always sensed his uncle's tension.

But it wasn't until they arrived at the school that they knew that not everyone reacted the same to Donald Duck, and the comments had not been expected for the first class.

And though the siblings had already made up their mind, it was not easy, much less for their uncle in the last PTA meeting.

Since that day he has seen his uncle looking for another school in which to enroll his wards, one in which his sister can be accepted; dedicating a small part of their reduced salaries in savings for a new educational institution.

He had honestly never seen his uncle so determined on a goal. This goal discovered an afternoon in which he did not attend classes due to illness.

That made Louie wonder how a man as dedicated and hardworking as his uncle struggled so hard to find a steady job.

Unfortunately, not everything turned out well if you were the most unlucky duck in the world, and that led to today: the every-day bullies bothering his sister. This time using her Junior Woodchucks guidebook as an object of fun.

It would be better for him to act soon, before Dollie's temper makes its own.

Ten-years-old. They begin to accompany Donald in his varied works.

The triplets had reached a consensus in which they already considered themselves too old to need a babysitter, and their uncle refused to leave them alone, already aware of how naughty they can be by joining minds.

So they decided to be unanimous and there they were.

Maybe they couldn't be outside his radio unless it was necessary, but that allowed them to leave the houseboat and they were satisfied.

After all, who claimed they couldn't have adventures if they intended? They were young and the imagination had no boundaries.

Surprisingly it made him discover that his uncle could be multitasking, and doubts about his unemployment were resolved to the bad character and awful luck which he was possessor of, in addition to the distancing when the improvement of position promised the family.

What was really the reason why his Uncle Donald wanted to maintain a normal life, a common job and an average family? Louie thought day after day. Normal, common and average bored.

New employment, more money and little by little it seemed that his uncle's bankruptcy was diminishing, though the difficulties continued to arise in the form of tax collectors, job losses, bank calls, bills that Donald vainly concealed and again the acquisition of nannies.

It didn't help at all that they had not known about Uncle Gladstone for months.

But hey, it was nothing they weren't used to. Louie was sure that sooner or later his uncle's efforts will bear fruit.

Or he was, until he discovered that he had more family than he thought.

"Donald Duck..." there had been so many scenarios in which he had imagined knowing Scrooge McDuck, one less likely than another.

"Uncle Scrooge..." wait, what?

And certainly that was not one of them.

#el's fanfiction #ducktales 2017 #louie-centric #louie duck #donald duck #dewey duck #huey duck #except her name is dollie #dollie duck #trans girl huey #trans donald duck #implied tho #open to interpretation #donald tries his best #this was better in my head dammit

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alonely-dreamer · 5 years

Text

Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 18: Deadly Jealousy

Summary: Mackenzie Alemaund is an unlucky 18 year old teenager whose life changes drastically after she gets kidnapped by two vampires and learns, in the same day, that she is not human.

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 3211

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there, besides I couldn’t have it edited! I hope you’ll like it!

Masterlist

New Series: The Valuable Sun

The tension was palpable. Elena, Bonnie and Mackenzie were at the Grill and a cold silence had settled between them. Mackenzie hadn’t said a word to Elena ever since she had come back earlier that morning. The doppelganger had tried to apologize, but Mackenzie didn’t want an apology. She didn’t need one. It was Rebekah she should apologize to. The fact that Stefan had screwed up their plans and saved Klaus, allowing the hybrid to kill his father, didn’t change a single thing.

“So,” Bonnie eventually said. “This is fun.”

Mackenzie looked away. She had nothing to say.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me, and I understand, I deserve it. I just…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Mackenzie said. “There’s nothing you can say that would make this better, Elena.”

“I’m having nightmares!” Bonnie blurted out to change the conversation. Both pair of eyes turned to her. “Every time I close my eyes, I have that nightmare on repeat. Four coffins, Klaus is in one of them.”

“It’s called wishful thinking,” Mackenzie said.

Bonnie chuckled slightly.

“What if it’s not just some dream? What if it’s like, you know, a witch dream?” Elena suggested.

“It’s just stress. I’ll figure it out,” Bonnie shrugged. “What about Stefan? Has there been any sign of him?”

“He betrayed us, Bonnie,” Elena shook her head, like she didn’t want to talk about him at all, “the Stefan that we knew is gone.”

“How’s Damon handling it?”

“Damon is… Damon,” Elena sighed. “You know him. He’ll drink, do something stupid and we’ll fight and repeat.”

“Well, good luck with that,” the witch said as she picked up her bag that was hanging from one side of her chair, “I gotta go.”

“See you later.”

“Bye, Bonnie,” Mackenzie gave her a small smile before she left.

Elena sighed. “Look, can we talk?”

“About what?”

Mackenzie wondered where this spite was coming from. She usually was a forgiving person. Perhaps, she thought, this was just unforgivable. Perhaps, she didn’t care what happened to her, but she cared about what happened to others. Perhaps, the fire inside of her was just too strong.

“Look, I don’t feel good about what I did.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“Yes, I did. And I’d do it again. Because she could’ve turned on us.”

“Yeah, because last night was such a success.”

Elena frowned. She didn’t recognize this side of Mackenzie. Where was the shy girl who acted like she wished she could become invisible? She wondered if that was the result of spending a summer with Katherine Pierce.

“You’re right,” Elena nodded, “it was wrong of me to do that. It’s one of the worst things I have ever done.”

“I told you, you don’t need to apologize to me.”

“I just don’t want us to fight.”

“I’m mad at you Elena. I’m gonna need some time to get over it.”

Elena nodded. “I understand. I’ll give you your space.”

***

Jeremy got fired a week before, and somehow that was now Mackenzie’s problem. Not that she was complaining. She was leaving under their roof, after all, for free. The least she could do was be supportive and help plan an intervention. Besides, it felt good to be a part of something other than supernatural drama. Cooking with Alaric, setting the table with Elena, it felt… like home. Elena had kept her word and gave Mackenzie space. Or, at least, as much space as she could give her since they lived under the same roof.

“You ready?” Alaric asked the eldest Gilbert.

“Vampires, hybrids and Originals? No problem. My rebellious brother? I’m worried.”

“At least you have a brother to be worried about,” Mackenzie said. She didn’t realize it might have come out wrong and bitchy, she just wanted Elena to appreciate how lucky she was to have a family and a history professor so dedicated he was almost like a parent to her. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

“No, it’s okay,” Elena smiled. “You’re right.”

Jeremy entered the house through the front door and somehow Elena looked even more nervous than when she was planning to kill the worst paranoid psychopath in history.

“Just in time,” she said. We’re cooking.”

“Sorry, just passing through,” he said as he opened the fridge.

“Oh, well I thought we’d all stay in… have a meal together like a typical… atypical family…” Alaric stuttered.

Mackenzie suppressed a laugh.

“Why?”

“Maybe because you got fired and you didn’t tell anyone,” Elena answered.

It wasn’t so hard to suppress that laugh anymore.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Look, can we do this later? I made plans with Tyler. He’s right outside.”

Alaric and Elena straightened up. “Wait,” the professor said, “when did you start hanging out with Tyler?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Jeremy, it matters. He was sired by Klaus. He’s dangerous!” his sister said.

Jeremy chuckled. “He can still hear you, he’s right outside. Besides, you of all people are gonna lecture me on who I can and can’t hang out with?”

“What is with the attitude?”

“Whatever. This is lame. Tyler’s waiting,” he said before he started walking away.

“No. Oh, no, no, no, no. You’re not going anywhere, especially not with Tyler,” she stopped him.

Jeremy looked at Alaric for help, but found none.

“Fine, you want us to stay in, then let us all stay in,” he said, “Yo, Tyler, come on in!” he called for the hybrid who walked right through the front door.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad being an orphan after all, Mackenzie thought.

Tyler walked towards them and sat at the table, invited by Jeremy who sat next to him.

“This is weird,” Elena chuckled humorlessly, “Klaus has hybrids stalking me, now you’re just sitting in our kitchen.”

“Look, maybe I should go,” the hybrid said as he got up.

“No, stay, you’re not doing anything,” Jeremy insisted.

“Unless you have to, you know, check in with your hybrid master,” Elena said.

Tyler laughed. “It’s not like that, Elena.”

“Tell me, Tyler,” Alaric said as he sat down at the table, “what is the difference between being sired and being compelled?”

“Compulsion, that’s just mind control. Like hypnosis. Being sired is…” he paused, looking for the words, “it’s like faith. You do something because you believe it’s the right thing.”

“So, do you believe that serving Klaus is the right thing?” Elena asked.

“I don’t serve him. Klaus released me from a curse that was ruining my life. I owe him for that.”

“What if he asked you to jump off a bridge?” Alaric asked.

“He wouldn’t,” he said, as if he was sure of it, “And even if he did, I’d be fine. I’m a hybrid.”

“Okay, so, what if he asked you to rip your own heart out?”

“Again, he wouldn’t.”

“But what if he did?”

“I don’t know! Then I’d rip out my heart!”

Mackenzie almost jumped on her chair. She looked up at Elena who practically had the same look on her face. That sirebond business was worse than she had previously thought.

“You guys sound like Caroline. Getting freaked out over something you don’t understand.”

“You’re right, Tyler, I don’t understand. Klaus has terrorized every single one of us and you’re just blindly loyal to him?”

“You’re overthinking it. I can still make my own decisions.”

Mackenzie took a good look at Tyler, studying the magic that was keeping him alive, giving him his power. She wondered if she could remove that part of him that felt loyal to Klaus. She had no idea how she’d do it, but she wondered if it were possible. Her thoughts were cut short though as Jeremy’s phone rang.

“What was that about?” his sister asked when he returned.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“I gotta go,” Tyler told them. “Thanks for the food offer but um… next time,” he said before he left.

“Well, that was illuminating,” Alaric said once the hybrid was gone. He took his plate and walked over to the sink, Elena followed him.

“So, Tyler Lockwood is a lunatic who has access to our house.”

“I mean… this whole sirebond thing is wild.”

“Jeremy?” Mackenzie said as the teenager removed his ring and walked out of the room.

“Jer?” Elena called after her brother, but he didn’t respond. “Where are you going, Jeremy?”

They followed him outside where he stopped in the middle of the road.

“Jeremy are you okay?” Mackenzie asked.

“What is he doing?” Elena wondered.

They heard a car approaching, they could hear the tires screeching, it was driving fast.

“Jeremy!” Elena shouted. But her brother didn’t move.

Mackenzie didn’t know if she could do it, but she tried anyway. She waved her hands, trying to do something, anything, that would make the car change its course and save Jeremy. The car turned on its side and went crashing into two parked cars, leaving Jeremy unharmed.

“Oh my God,” Elena breathed out before she ran towards her brother.

A young man, Mackenzie recognized to be a hybrid, managed to get out of what was left of his car, he too was unharmed. Before he had the chance to do anything, Mackenzie decided to use fire to boil his blood and water to drown his lungs. One of Katherine’s favorite moves.

“What are you doing?” Alaric asked.

“It won’t kill him,” she answered. “But it’ll stop him for a while,” and right after she said the last word, the hybrid was lying unconscious in the middle of the road.

***

Barely an hour had passed when Damon arrived at the Gilbert house. The hybrid was gone. The authorities were taking care of the crashed cars outside. (Un)fortunately, there were no witnesses.

“What a mess,” he said. “You did that?” he asked Mackenzie, as if he couldn’t believe she had helped, somehow. Though, it shouldn’t surprise him after what had happened on the previous night.

“Yes. She took down Klaus’ hybrid too,” Alaric informed him.

“You killed him?”

“No. Knocked him out.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Lame.”

He gave Jeremy a look then frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing vervain? Where’s your bracelet?”

Given the look on his face, Jeremy was obviously unaware he had lost his anti-compulsion accessory.

“I don’t know.”

“It was Tyler,” Elena sighed. “It had to have been. That’s why he was hanging out with you. To get you off the vervain.”

“Klaus is trying to send a message. He wants us to find Stefan, he stole coffins full of his dead family members.”

“Coffins?” Elena asked with a confused frown.

“What did you just say?” Mackenzie asked as she approached the vampire.

“Stefan stole Klaus’ family and he wants them back.”

“Stefan has Elijah?”

“Yep.”

“Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Yet. All we have to do is find four coffins and… voilà. No one else on your family’s Christmas list has to die,” he told Elena.

“Give me something that belongs to Stefan,” Mackenzie said. “I’ll do a locator spell.”

“Wait, wait,” Elena stopped her. “How many did you say there were?”

“Four.”

“Four. Bonnie. She has nightmares about four coffins. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Yeah but in her dreams, Klaus is in one of them,” Mackenzie reminded her.

“So? It could still be the same coffins.”

“Actually,” Damon cut them off, “maybe, one of them has the answer we’re looking for. Maybe, one of them can kill Klaus,” he offered with a smile.

Elena nodded. “I’m gonna call Bonnie.”

“Good idea.”

***

It was late in the day. The sun was slowly setting behind Damon, Elena and Mackenzie as they walked through the empty field towards the abandoned house of the witch burial ground. Mackenzie had never seen it, though she remembered it was from that place that Bonnie had gotten the extra power she was planning on using to kill Klaus. Listening to Damon, it was a haunted house plagued with the spirits of dead witches who hated him. And from what she heard, the feeling was mutual. The house was bigger than she expected, but less scary than Damon had let it to be.

Mackenzie could feel the power of the house from a mile away. It only grew stronger as she approached it, making her feel more and more uncomfortable. She shouldn’t have been surprised though, considering it was that power that could’ve have killed Klaus if Elijah had gone through with the plan.

Elena and Damon didn’t hesitate before entering the old house, but something made Mackenzie slow down.

“Are you coming?” Elena asked, gesturing her to follow her.

Mackenzie shouldn’t be hesitating, after all, if Bonnie’s information was good, Elijah was lying in a coffin somewhere in that house.

“Stefan?” Elena called as she explored the first floor.

“Ah!” Mackenzie heard Damon groan before she saw him throw himself against the wall, his face red and burning.

“What happened?”

“The witches, they’re messing with my daylight ring.”

Mackenzie instinctively stepped towards the vampire who was trapped in a small corner of shadows. She wanted to shield him from the sun but didn’t even have the opportunity to get close to Damon as about three feet away from the doorstep, Mackenzie became paralyzed, completely unable to move. It only took a second for the pain to seize her entire body. A scream escaped her, so loud, so sudden, she didn’t even realize she was its source. She could barely hear it. She could only feel. Feel the fire in her veins, the water in her lungs, the electricity in her brain. The elements were turning against her. The witches were torturing her.

She didn’t hear Elena call out her name or Damon ask her what was wrong. She didn’t feel the two strong hands on her arms which dragged her outside. The pain stopped immediately. As soon as she was out of the house, it was gone.

She gasped as if she had been drowning, she was red as if she had been burning, she was shaking as if she had just been electrocuted. She fell on her knees, feeling weak, feeling like she was going to pass out. She couldn’t feel the tears falling down her cheeks, she couldn’t hear the cries coming out of her mouth, she couldn’t see Elena and Damon trying to get her attention. She saw black, she saw white, some spots of yellow, some spots of red.

She breathed heavily, panting as she fell forward. She caught herself with a hand, hurting herself, maybe it was sprained, maybe it was broken, she couldn’t tell. That pain was easy, that pain was nothing compared to what she had just endured. She couldn’t tell how long it had lasted. If she had been asked, she’d have answered hours. But to Damon and Elena, it hadn’t even been 10 seconds.

“What the fuck happened?” Damon growled. “Did you piss off a bunch of witches or something?”

Jealous bitches.

You control nature, nature does control you.

Burn it. Burn it to the ground.

Destroy them.

Tear them apart.

Burn it. Turn it to flames. Turn it to ashes.

The voices in her head sounded familiar, maybe it was hers, maybe it was someone else’s. The fire in her veins returned but this time it didn’t hurt. This time she welcomed it. Welcomed the power, welcomed the flames. But she didn’t let it out. She had a secret to keep. Those witches would be too glad if she outed herself. If the world knew who she was, what she was. She’d have the entire world coming for her, and like her mother had said, nobody was strong enough to fight the entire world. So, she extinguished the fire and only calm water remained. The tears on her cheeks kept falling as she tried to slow down her breathing.

“Are you okay?” Elena asked, trembling, probably because of fear.

“No,” she breathed out, “they tried to kill me,” she sniffed.

“But why?” Damon wondered aloud, still feeling uneasy from her screams of pain. Even he had rarely heard screams like these.

“I don’t know,” she lied. “Maybe they don’t like the fact that I want to help Elijah.”

“No, I don’t think they’d do that,” Elena said, realizing she didn’t actually know.

“Go,” Mackenzie told them. “Find Stefan. Find Elijah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Elena, I’ll be fine, I just… I just need a minute.”

Elena gave a concern look to Damon who nodded.

“I’ll stay with her, I’m not welcomed inside the house either anyway.”

Elena hesitated but eventually walked back inside the house, on alert, wondering if the witches could do the same thing to her.

Damon watch Elena disappear inside before he sat down next to Mackenzie. He gave her a couple of minutes before he asked: “Maybe your parents did something horrible and they’re punishing you for it,” he shrugged.

“Maybe,” Mackenzie sighed as she laid down on the grass, looking up at the orange sky. “Is he inside?” she asked, knowing he was listening.

“Yup. It’s not going well…”

“Are the coffins there?”

“No idea.”

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” was the last word she heard before darkness overtook her.

***

When Mackenzie woke up, she was in her bed, in Elena’s house. Elena was there, sitting next to her, writing in her journal. She could see through the window that it was nighttime.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Elena asked with a soft voice.

Mackenzie groaned. She felt like that time she had woken up after having drunk all night with Katherine. She had a terrible migraine, and her entire body hurt.

“What happened?”

“You passed out. You’ve been asleep for over six hours.”

Mackenzie sighed then rolled on her side towards Elena.

“Did you find the coffins?”

“No. Stefan… was uncooperative.”

“Did Klaus try to kill anyone else?”

“No. I gave him Rebekah back.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Mackenzie wanted to be happy, but all she really wanted to do at that moment was sleep. “So, if the coffins aren’t in the house, you don’t mind if I burn it down, then?”

Elena laughed, unsure if she was joking or not. “Well, Stefan is hiding in there so, you’d have to go through him first.”

“Mmh. Maybe I’ll burn him down too.”

“You sound like Katherine, you know that?”

“I know…”

“She’s a bad influence.”

“I don’t know. She’s survived Klaus for 500 years. I’m sure she could teach us a thing or two.”

“That’s certainly one way to see it.”

“So… what’s the new plan then?”

“Now? Well… Jeremy is leaving for Denver in two days. It’s too dangerous here for him.”

“He’s leaving? He’s leaving you behind?”

“I had Damon compel him…” Elena confessed, and Mackenzie didn’t insist as she heard regret and guilt in her friend’s voice.

“You did the right thing, Elena. He’ll be safer in Denver.”

“I didn’t know what else to do… There is no other plan. Klaus is here, he won’t leave until he gets his family back and Stefan…” she sighed, “Stefan’s not giving them back so… I think things are only about to get worse.”

“Worse? How can they possibly get worse?”

**********

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 19 is already available for early access on my Patreon page! Chapter 20 to 22 are available for instant access! If you’d like to support me here’s my page: patreon.com/alonelydreamer any support is highly appreciated!!

If you can’t, it’s okay! Chapter 19 will be posted on Tumblr next Wednesday!

Have a good week!

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swimmingseafish · 4 years

Text

Sanderstale Prequel: Jen

So, this is a Sanderstale prequel fic that I wrote in literally one day. It’s somewhat OC-focused, but I’m pretty proud of it, so I’m posting it here too.

tagged: @hideyseek @ironwoman359 @shrimpangie

summary: The journal of the second heir to the human throne, before the human-monster war. Could also be described as the personal accounts of Princen Cal of Medeis, featuring their family and monster friends and one particularly violent Entity.

CW: violence (mentioned at least), several implied deaths, possession, and an almost-drowning (but very vague).

(Please let me know if I need to tag anything else for this fic. I don’t think I’m leaving anything out, but I’m not positive.)

Read it on ao3!

Entry 1

(I have a strange urge to write this like a letter, and no one’s going to read this anyways, so they won’t care if I’m a dork.)

Hi, book of blank lined pages.

Father says I should keep a journal and write an entry once a week. He thinks it’ll help me prepare to help rule the kingdom one day. Or at least, I suppose, to deal with paperwork.

I mean, I guess it isn’t a bad idea. We’ll see how this goes.

It was nice to meet you.

- Cal

Entry 2

Greetings, still-mostly-blank journal.

People write important events down in journals, right? I think that’s how it works.

Well, I had my naming day this week! I’d been SO looking forward to turning eighteen. I finally got to stand in front of the kingdom and introduce myself to the world as Calyx, they/them, second heir to the throne of Medeis. Immy was very proud of her little sibling (me).

Prince Emile of Bellua was there, too, out of royal formality and respect. His naming day was a few months ago. I still don’t know him very well, but he seems nice, and so do his parents, which is good. Eventually, Immy and I will have to negotiate with him on things like borders and taxes, so we better at least kind of get along.

Hey, you know what? Since it’s my naming day and I insist on writing these like letters, I might as well name you, too. How about Jen?

(So, I like alliteration. Sue me.)

See you next week,

Cal

Entry 3

Dear Jen,

Mother and Father have been particularly stressed this week.

We’ve been working with Bellua to build and maintain a reservoir on the Regio, which is the largest river in the area and also happens to be the border between our two kingdoms. But the negotiation of exactly where to put the dam has been an absolute nightmare.

Why can’t we just put it by Lake Aureus? That makes the most sense. It’s basically a reservoir on its own already—just dam the river and add supporting structures to make the lake deeper. And that lake’s relatively empty of life for some reason, even though the water’s clean, so we wouldn’t be encroaching on protected species or monster homes.

But no one asked me, so.

Actually, hold on a second. I’m going to try something.

***

Back two hours later to say that Immy absolutely loved my idea and will be pitching it to our parents tomorrow morning. Huh. Maybe I should speak up more.

Good night, Jen.

- Cal

Entry 4

Dear Jen,

I’m no longer sure if speaking up was a good idea or not.

It’s managed to convince Immy and my parents that it’s time for me to handle a project on my own. Which should be a good thing! And I’m happy that they consider me responsible enough for that! It’s just that the project in question happens to be this infernal DAM. It’s fascinating, but the paperwork and scheduling and negotiations for workers and who does what when are absolutely EXCRUCIATING.

Also, I’ve spent nearly every day this week with Diana, the royal architect, which, again, SHOULD have been fine, if we hadn’t gotten into an argument five years ago with her daughter that led to us completely cutting off communication. Diana would not stop talking about Daisy.

“Yes, your highness, I agree that we should add more supports on that side. By the way, have you considered asking my daughter to help? She’s becoming quite a skilled architect herself.”

“It’s such a shame that you and Daisy don’t talk anymore, your highness.”

“Daisy actually came up with this particular design. Isn’t she doing such a good job?”

“Did you hear

I was going to keep writing out things that she said, but I got frustrated, so nope.

I like Diana, but I had good reason to stop talking to Daisy. So, also a big nope on talking to her.

I wish just one thing in my life was straightforward. Wait, no, definitely not. Nothing about me is straight.

***

I just laughed for a good five minutes over a pun I’ve made a billion times. I’m definitely exhausted. I need to at least try to get some sleep.

Night, Jen.

- Cal

Entry 5

Dear Jen,

Sorry, I know it’s been a month since I’ve last written, but I’ve gotten so much done!

Diana and I completed the plans for the Vis Dam three weeks ago, and it’s been under construction ever since. I’m due to go and supervise the end of construction in a few days.

I’m, quite frankly, a little nervous. I’ve put so much time and effort into this project, and it actually seems like it’s paying off.

As long as it’s not like the Cat Herding Incident of 1845, I think we’ll be good.

I’ll update this more once I can finally say the project’s complete.

- Cal

Entry 6

Dear Jen,

So! Things have happened. The Vis Dam is finished, thank goodness, but that didn’t quite go as planned.

Let me break this down for you:

I, in my ridiculous ceremonial robes, arrive at the dam. Prince Emile’s there, along with several other monster nobles that I don’t know and a host of human and monster workers.

I make small talk with Emile for the next hour or so until the dam’s officially complete. I learn that he really likes tea and that we both enjoyed this one children’s book series about space gem people. He is incredibly pleased to learn that I’d read it and that I am actually willing to listen to him talk about it. (People need to give this guy a place to nerd out more often, clearly.)

Both Diana and Daisy are there. I say hi to Diana and then proceed to ignore them as politely as possible.

It’s time for me to dedicate the dam, and I make my speech from the second-floor platform, just underneath the area that would vent water. It should be noted, and it cannot be emphasized enough, that this was not my idea. I would have been fine giving my speech from the top of the dam. But Diana decided, along with my parents, that it would be better to give a speech about the two kingdoms getting along if everyone was on the same level, literally. So, she added in a large, retractable platform lower on the structure. Why it was beneath the water vents, I have no idea. It might just be because that was in the center. Regardless, that’s beside the point.

Everyone else stands around me, while I stand with my back to the dam. It should be noted that the water vents were supposed to be OFF.

I finish my dedication of the dam to peace and harmony between humans and monsters, and everyone starts applauding. The vent directly above my head, determined to ruin my day, opens, blasting me and a dozen other assorted monsters and humans off of the dam and into the reservoir below.

This was not a short fall, by the way. It was a good 200 feet down at least. The only reason we didn’t all die was that someone caught us with blue magic just before we hit the water, holding us still for a brief second and then letting us drop 2 feet instead.

I, also, am terrible at swimming. We—Immy and I—had to take classes as children, but we only ever had to get good enough to be able to survive. Immy’s a swimming champion. I can tread water for five minutes. I was not (and am not) equipped to survive in a raging river.

Fortunately, just as I was about to go under for good, I felt my SOUL turn blue again. I was forcibly yanked from the water so hard that I flew over the water and smacked into my very furry rescuer. He felt so guilty that he couldn’t stop apologizing, despite the fact that he’d saved my life and he had no reason to feel sorry (as I promptly told him).

Turns out, his name was Patton, and he’d been practicing his blue magic by working on the dam—moving parts into place alongside the other workers. His specialty is healing magic, but his parents both served in high positions in the Belluan military, so they had insisted he learn more combative magic as well. He’d done great with fire magic, he told me, but the specific SOUL magic types had proven more difficult, hence the practice.

Right then, Emile, who’d apparently escaped being thrown off the platform by the waterfall of death, ran over, asking if I was okay. I quickly assured him that I was and that he didn’t need to worry, though it was appreciated.

And then:

“Oh! Prince Emile Dreemurr, meet Patton Hart. He saved my life.”

“Ah, n-nice to meet you, Patton.” Emile’s cheeks turned bright red as he dipped his head to Patton.

“It’s nice to meet you too, your highness!” Patton said, bowing and then bouncing back up. He glanced at me, still soaking wet, and then at Emile, standing there in pristine royal robes. “I see you’re not a go with the flow kind of prince.”

All three of us immediately burst out laughing, but Emile couldn’t stop staring at Patton the whole time. Prince Emile, who I’d officially decided was my friend now, clearly had a GIANT crush on the boy who saved my life.

I went home after talking to both of them for a little while longer—and after getting a towel. My robes were soaked. I think I’m going to need new ones; I don’t trust that velvet to last after that much exposure to dubious-quality water.

Patton, Emile, and I are planning on meeting up next week. I’m determined to play matchmaker. Also, they both seem like amazing people, and I haven’t had a close friend outside of Immy in years. (Don’t be offended, Jen—I’m counting humans and monsters, not journals).

Wow, this entry got long. I’ll be back sometime soon. It’s after midnight and I have to debrief Mother and Father tomorrow on this whole fiasco.

But overall, a successful day, don’t you think?

Night!

- Cal

Entry 7

Dear Jen,

I love these two.

First of all, there was an absolutely GOLD moment that I have to share.

We all met up at my home, the castle in Medeis, since neither Emile nor Patton regularly made trips to the human kingdom, so I figured it’d be fun for them. Patton got there first, and we were sitting in what is best described as the living room and chatting.

Emile, arriving next, didn’t know that Patton was there already, and for reasons unknown decided to open the door while making what were arguably the strangest noises I have ever heard in my life. It was like he was trying to be an entire orchestra introducing the beginning of a children’s play but could only generate notes via his own voice and using the vowel “da” at various pitches and intensities.

I actually didn’t even know it was him at first, to be honest, until he stopped, popped his head around the door frame, and instantly turned bright red upon seeing both me and Patton.

Does he just enter every room that way? Is that something he reserves for friends? Not the blushing thing, but the singing thing. I didn’t ask because he was already embarrassed, but now I REALLY want to know.

Second, on a more general level, things I learned from this experience:

1. Patton probably has a crush on Emile too, based on the evidence of my own eyes. (No, Jen, I refuse to elaborate. That would take up at LEAST all the rest of your pages.)

2. Patton will make puns endlessly unless he is stopped. (And Emile will definitely not stop him ever.)

3. Emile will reference various fantasy books endlessly and cannot be stopped. (This is not a bad thing. He clearly loves them.)

4. Patton, despite being the only one out of the three of us that isn’t an heir to a throne (and the youngest by a couple weeks), has the best head for leadership and politics.

5. All three of us care too much, apparently, and have been told so several times by our family and friends, especially Emile. He says not to hold it against his parents, though.

6. Patton’s a pacifist and refuses to fight anyone in a real battle, though he is trained for it. Luckily, there aren’t really any real battles he’d need to fight in. We’re lucky enough to live in a remarkably peaceful time.

7. Emile is simultaneously stronger and weaker than you’d think. He’s built, with broad shoulders and muscles clearly built up from years of training. But we practiced fighting together, and he’s the most skilled at magical attacks. His trident is really something else. I’m a skilled martial artist, but I’m not a mage, so I can only beat him about half the time.

8. Emile is trying to grow a beard with only VERY limited success. I asked him why he bothers when he already has more than enough hair, and he bopped me (very lightly!) on the head with his trident.

9. I laugh a whole lot more around Emile and Patton than I normally do.

The only other person I’ve been this close to was Daisy, but she broke my heart at age thirteen and I have no desire to revisit that experience. (Maybe the fact that I’m still stuck on it five years later is an issue. There really should be like…mind doctors or something to help with things like that.)

But anyways, I’m not in love with either of them, for sure. Though Immy would get a kick out of it if I fell in love with Emile—she’d say I managed to arrange my own marriage.

I do love them as friends, though, even though we haven’t spent too much time together. I think I get attached quick.

Hopefully we’ll get to do this again a lot in the future.

I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to write in the next few months. Harvest season’s coming up, and I still have to do maintenance on the dam. But I’m dedicated to this now, even though I think my dad’s forgotten he suggested it. Don’t worry, Jen. I won’t abandon you.

Have a good few months,

Cal

Entry 8

Hey, Jen. It’s been a while, huh?

I had a feeling it was going to be hard to keep this up consistently.

Anyways, I’m nineteen now, so there’s that! And yes, past me, you did get to hang out with Patton and Emile much more, don’t worry—I’m now confident in calling them my best friends. And they’re still dancing around each other like the goofballs they are. (To be fair, they’ve had more pressing concerns recently.) Even Emile’s little sister, Princess Linda, needles him about Patton constantly. That’s a good sister right there, and I say this with the full knowledge that I would hate it if Immy did this to me.

I also got to meet Patton’s friend Camden, a tortoise monster, and Camden’s little brother Gerson, who is the most optimistic child (and potentially person) on the face of the planet. Camden wants to be a professional photographer someday, and his work is excellent. He’s hilarious and laughs at pretty much any badly planned joke, which I’m starting to think is a prerequisite for being Patton’s friend.

And Gerson—I still cannot get over him. He’s seven years old and knows so much about the world and current events, but he never lets it affect him negatively. He always looks at the bright side. A monster kid like that, even if he’s not a boss monster, is going to live for centuries.

Oh yeah, current events. I guess I should put that in here too. God knows I need to talk to someone about it.

Tensions between humans and monsters are on the rise and have been pretty consistently for the past year. I didn’t know until three months ago when a skirmish broke out on the border—right by the Vis Dam, in fact. Three humans were grievously injured, and one was killed, but five monsters in total were turned to dust.

Immy and my parents had been trying to handle it quietly with Emile and his parents, but there have been an increasing number of humans terrified of monsters in recent years.

Someone—a palace worker named Silenda—went through the records from the long-ago battles between humans and monsters. She found out that monsters could absorb human SOULs while humans couldn’t absorb monster ones, and she told her brother, who unfortunately was both unable to keep his mouth shut and worked for a very popular newspaper. The information spread quickly, and there are some in our kingdom who have used it to stir up fear.

I actually was a little hurt that my parents didn’t trust me or Immy with this information. And that once they did let us know, they only told Immy. She had to tell me. But I do understand. She’s the Crown Princess. She’ll be queen one day.

But I’ll be her advisor and strongest supporter. Shouldn’t I know, too?

Ugh. I’m still bitter about this and it’s not remotely the point.

The point is that we’re starting to see skirmishes on the border, and neither ruling party wants that. But both countries have so far been unable to stop the fighting. The small factions are operating independently of the leadership.

We might have to call in the military to calm down the situation if it gets any worse, and I can’t see that going remotely well.

I said at the beginning of this entry that I’ve still been seeing Patton and Emile. And I have. But it’s gotten a lot less frequent over the last three months.

Patton’s been working with the medical corps of the Belluan military and volunteering on the “front lines” of the skirmishes, healing whoever he can. Camden’s out there with him, documenting everything for posterity. Gerson mostly stays home, but Camden’s had to bring him once or twice.

Emile’s doing his best as Crown Prince, but it’s been hard on him. He doesn’t hold much power on his own yet, and he feels like if his parents can’t do anything, what could he possibly do?

I’ve been reaching out diplomatically to the leaders of the small factions as best I can to try to get them to stop. Silenda’s been helping me; she’s a surprisingly fast writer, and incredibly brave and strong and a true believer in justice. She also blames herself for everything that’s been going on.

I’ve told her repeatedly that I, at least, don’t blame her, which is true, I don’t. I blame her brother, a little, and the newspaper some, but mostly I blame the people who decided that the only answer to being scared is to kill.

Why did I have to jinx everything by writing that we live in peaceful times?

I wish I could have a conversation about this with someone besides you, Jen, but everyone’s just so busy and overwhelmed and stressed. All I can do with them is endlessly throw solutions around and have none of them work out. At least I can get my thoughts out this way.

Until next time.

- Cal

[On the next three pages, several entries were started and then scratched out.]

Entry 9

Jen—

I turned twenty, and I think I might be losing my mind.

We tried military intervention. It didn’t work. Our soldiers, instead of holding the monsters back and protecting our own citizens, decided to go rogue and wipe out the entire monster battalion.

Bellua and its rulers were rightfully devastated and furious, and they were about to declare war on us.

My parents, Immy, me, and several other councilors held a meeting in the throne room to determine our best course of action. Eventually, they got around to asking my opinion.

I opened my mouth to suggest literally anything other than war. Reparations, peace talks, giving up territory. My best friends were monsters and I had—and still have—absolutely no desire to fight or kill them or their families.

But then I felt like my body was taken over by a stranger. I couldn’t control my movements or my voice. I watched, a horrified passenger in my body, as my voice made a persuasive argument for declaring war before Bellua could.

And they listened.

My parents. My sister. All the councilors.

They listened.

And they declared war.

What’s wrong with me?

I couldn’t—didn’t—say those things.

I love my friends so much that it feels like I have a star living in my chest.

Sil almost slapped me when she found out what I’d done. Instead, she quietly gathered her things and left, tears running down her face. I love her too, and I’ve never told her.

And I might have just lost all of them.

Who do I go to for help? Who would believe me? Even if they did, what could they do?

What the hell is going on, Jen?

Entry 10

It happens nearly every day now.

The Entity—that’s what I’ve chosen to call it—comes for me in the morning. I go through my routine mechanically, or, at least, my body does. Then the Entity and I join the royal council to make plans and move troops.

I’m a general now. Me. All I thought I would ever do was help Immy and run paperwork. And maybe build more dams.

I fight on the field, too. The Entity favors lightweight javelins and shatters SOUL after SOUL with them.

I think dust is permanently stuck to my boots.

I can’t make it stop.

Entry 11

Immy’s worried about me. But she’s all for the war now. And the Entity exerts control even when it’s not speaking for me. I can’t take its words back, so I can’t tell her what’s wrong.

Patton’s worried about me. He’s tried to send me messages using the little spiders that serve the matriarch of the Spider Clans. The Entity won’t let me write back or even read them, and it hurts every single time. The most I’ve managed to do is protect the spiders. The Entity wanted to squish them.

I don’t know if Emile’s worried about me or if he even cares. I’ve seen him leading charges on the battlefield, too. I don’t know if he’s seen me, but I hope not.

I haven’t heard from Sil. The Entity won’t let me reach out to her, either. But I thought I saw her next to Emile, once. I hope she’s safe, or as safe as anyone can be in this broken world.

Entry 12

I caught my reflection in the mirror today when the Entity was in control. They turn my eyes this weird pale red color. It’s not even pink. They just dull my eyes.

Appropriate, I guess.

I’m twenty-one today, for whatever it’s worth.

Entry 13

The Entity can control time.

Today, I managed to break free of their control for a split second and shatter a bottle of squid ink on a table filled with valuable intelligence. I could sense how angry they were. And, of course, how angry everyone else was. Immy just about took my head off.

But then I felt a warm sensation in my chest, blinked, and somehow it was 7 AM that morning again. I saw a flicker of bright golden light for just a second before the Entity, still irritated, quickly ran through my morning tasks again and headed back to the throne room. They kept me on a tighter leash this time, and I didn’t have another chance to break free.

How did they do that?

More importantly, if they’re controlling MY body, is that something THEY can do or something I can do? Because if I’m the one who can do that…

I need to conduct some research.

Entry 14

I’m exhausted. I’ve been doing most of my research at night. The Entity has far less control at night.

I still try to stay awake all day, though. I need to keep tabs on what they’re doing with my body.

Hence why my brain is dead right now. But I need to catalog what I’ve found.

My SOUL is red. I’ve known this since I was a small child. SOUL colors are logged at age five, as soon as it’s definitely safe enough to enter into the sort of magical connection necessary for a SOUL to appear on someone’s chest.

No one else in my family has a red SOUL. Immy’s is purple, Mother’s is dark blue, and Father’s is green. (Sil, though not my family, has a yellow SOUL.)

I’ve never met anyone else, as far as I know, with a red SOUL. That’s what started me on the track of thinking that SOUL colors might be important.

According to the old texts I found in the library, all the other SOUL colors are thought to be linked to personality traits or convictions. Light blue is patience, orange is bravery, dark blue is integrity, purple is perseverance, green is kindness, and yellow is justice. But red is never labeled, not in any of the texts I looked at.

Finally, at the very back of the library, just as the sun was coming up, I found a book so old and covered in dust that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to read it before it fell apart.

That book said that red SOULs store immense power, but they’re not linked to any specific trait. Red SOULs are said to be blank slates. People used to be afraid of them, apparently, because they feared they could be possessed by demons.

Well, if the Entity isn’t a demon, I don’t know what the fuck it is.

The part I still don’t get is the “immense power” line. The only humans who can use magic are mages. I’m not a mage. I know I’m not a mage. We’re tested for that as kids.

But I’ve never tried to see if I could control time because as far as I knew, that was impossible, and it’s a little late to learn.

And there’s always the chance that this could in fact be the Entity’s power, not mine, and I’m going on a wild goose chase in the middle of a war.

I don’t have much else to do, though, do I, Jen?

[The next pages are filled with tally marks and scribbled notes in various different pencils and markers. There are drawings of SOULs on several of the pages, and spilled candle wax and dried tears adorn a few as well.]

Entry 15

Well, I still can’t make those glowing time-points. But I do actually have a surprising amount of stored magic. It was just sitting in the center of my SOUL. I would never have figured out how to access it if it weren’t for the Entity.

I’ve seen and felt them reset a couple more times since that first day, usually when they say something that they consider less than optimal. They’ll just reset and repeat that moment over and over again until it meets whatever the fuck their standards are.

We’re four years into the war, now. I skipped noting a couple of birthdays in there, somewhere, but I’m twenty-four now. Twenty-four, and there’s still a demon living in my head, forcing me to kill.

Emile’s parents were assassinated last year. Not by me, but the Entity supported it. My parents are still alive, but I’m not sure how long that will last, giving the blood-and-dust nature of the world right now.

I know Sil’s one of Emile’s top tacticians now, thanks to the intelligence the Entity has gathered. I’ve seen Camden’s war photography, including a photo of Gerson, much taller than he used to be but still just a kid, standing out in front of their home with a giant hammer in his arms. Patton’s still working on the front lines, healing as many people as he can. He still refuses to fight. I admire him so much for being able to make that choice and stick to it. I wish my hands were still clean.

Linda’s serving under Emile now, too, but as a soldier. She’s far too young for this.

Maybe we’re all too young for this.

Immy scares me the most. She still supports the war, but more out of fear than anything else. She sounds like those fearmongering men from so long ago.

She makes me wonder if the war is even the Entity’s fault.

Maybe it would have happened anyway.

Entry 16

I found my power.

But I don’t control time—or at least, I don’t know how.

I erase memories.

The Entity stayed down in the dungeons—that’s another thing we never used to have, or at least use, here, really. But anyways, the Entity stayed down in the dungeons for too long, and night fell. So, I had a little bit more control than usual.

I reached out with just a little bit of my magic and tried to make one of those glowing stars that allow the Entity to reset. Instead, one of the prisoners cried out.

“Where am I? What happened?” They looked around wildly. “Wait…WHO am I?!”

That absolutely wasn’t what I meant to do. And I couldn’t figure out how to bring the memories back. It looks like, when I erase memories, they’re gone for good.

But I needed to figure this out. I tested my power on one more prisoner and figured out that I can erase only specific memories if I try hard enough.

Writing this out, I’m shocked at myself. I’m experimenting on people. And I don’t even feel that bad about it.

What’s wrong with me? I’m so numb to suffering at this point. I’m numb to the world.

I miss Patton, Emile, Camden, and Gerson…and Sil. But they’re better off without me.

I don’t know what I can do with this power. I’ll keep fighting the Entity. Maybe I can break free. Maybe that’ll be enough.

What else can I erase?

[There’s an interval of at least twenty blank, crisp pages.]

Entry 17

It’s almost over. After five years, it’s almost over.

I managed to free myself from the Entity for now. I won’t say how because I don’t have time, but they’re not happy.

Medeis won, if you can call it that. Sil, as the monster ambassador, and I managed to get Immy to agree to seal the monsters underground rather than exterminate them. The war’s done a number on us all.

Sil still hates me. She doesn’t understand. She can’t. She never will. Neither will any of them. They’ll all hate me forever.

Sil has teamed up with a group of other mages to create the Barrier. With me, that makes seven.

The Entity doesn’t like this. They want to kill all the monsters.

I won’t let that happen.

Camden’s dead. Linda’s dead. My parents are dead. Immy, Gerson, Patton, and Emile are still alive, and so are thousands of others. You don’t get to take them too, do you hear me, you absolute sack of shit?

You think this is a game.

You think that what you do doesn’t matter.

It matters to me. It matters to Immy, and Sil, and everyone else in my world.

After we seal the monsters underground, I’m going to erase you from this world. I’ll erase you, and I’ll erase the memory of monsters and magic ever existing from the minds of every human on this planet.

I’ll almost certainly die in the process, but I don’t care. They’ll have a future, and the monsters will be safe from you and the humans like you.

There’s no future for me anymore.

You’ll have no host and no memory of your purpose or identity. You’ll be gone for good.

They’ll be safe. They’ll be safe. They’ll be safe.

I love you. All of you. More than words could ever say.

Goodbye.

- Princen Calyx of Medeis

#sanderstale #my writing #sanderstale prequel

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foundcarcosa · 7 years

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cciv.

1. Predict what your life will look like a year from now. >> I doubt there will be much different about my life in August of 2018. Sparrow will undoubtedly have settled into a more permanent place of employment, so our quality of life may have shifted (in the financial sense), hopefully for the better. We’ll probably still be living here, so no major changes to my worldstate are predicted. Anything else, I can’t possibly predict with any confidence.

2. What is the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? >> All compliments are good compliments.

3. What makes someone a best friend? >> I don’t have an answer for that. It varies from person to person, anyway. I get soulmate and best friend and life partner and the rest of those superlative hierarchical terms all confused, to be honest. --In which case, Can Calah fits all of them by default.

4. Are you young at heart, or an old soul? >> I have always existed in a state of temporal liminality, making all age-related terms erroneous.

5. How is your blog a reflection of yourself? What do you think people assume or know about you by looking at your blog? >> It’s a reflection of myself because I strictly curate things that appeal to me personally. I have dedicated this space to myself, to the expression of the innumerable facets of my being and their intersections, and it has performed ably in that capacity. And it’s funny you should ask that, because about an hour ago someone I know informed me that they tried to give someone they know a description of my blog and this is what they came up with: “I honestly don't fucking know, they either are God (tm) or wanna fuck God(tm) and probably would foursome The Diety of their choosing, Idris and Matthew Macone-whatever in the Matrix just for the aesthetic and the #thirst tag.” So I imagine that’s largely the impression I give.

6. Make a five song playlist that sums you up as a person. >> Death is the Road to Awe, Clint Mansell (from the soundtrack to The Fountain); Gethsemane, Vanden Plas (a cover of the Jesus Christ Superstar song); Starboy, The Weeknd; Break On Through (To the Other Side), The Doors; Blazing Star, Dethklok. There are a lot of songs that could contribute to a comprehensive profile of me as an [infinite singularity of] individual[s], considering I’ve been looking for myself in songs since I knew how to look, but you asked for five, so.

7. Do you have a Facebook? >> Yes. You’re welcome to add me on it. It’s largely stupid memes and me complaining about the most random shit.

8. What’s the most annoying thing about the person you like? >> Which one? (What kind of ‘like’? Be more specific.)

9. You ordered pizza last night, and have been looking forward to eating the leftovers all day. You go home and the box is still in the fridge, but someone has eaten all of it and it’s empty. What do you do? >> That’s impossible. First of all, Sparrow doesn’t even like the same kind of pizza I do. Second of all, she’s scatterbrained all right, but I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt that she wouldn’t leave an entire empty pizza box in our small-ass fridge. Try again.

10. What’s an inanimate object in your house that holds significance for you, and why do you find it so significant? >> The empty bottle of Baron Samedi Rum that sits on my desk holds significance for me (obviously, seeing as I never keep things that have no clear purpose, like empty liquor bottles). I bought it in New Orleans and it reminds me of O’Dim. It is perfect. (I’ll get rid of it when we finally move. After all, I won’t need these fragile pieces of home once I’m actually there.)

11. How do you look right now? >> Like a snack. (How am I supposed to answer this???)

12. What is one of your bad habits? >> Drinking, I suppose.

13. What were you doing at eleven last night? >> I think I was on tumblr, or some other part of the internet.

14. Are you sure that you were born in the right era? >> Does it matter?

15. You know at least one person named Michael. Tell me about him. >> He’s married to Sparrow’s sister, he studied film, he likes sour beer, and he used to be a skater. I don’t know much about him personally, it’s mostly just factoids that don’t knit together into a full picture very well.

16. You’ve got the TV on, but you’re not really watching. What channel is the TV on? >> I don’t do that. Sparrow is more likely to do that, and it’d probably be some HGTV show on Hulu.

17. What’s an inside joke you share with your friends? >> The first thing that popped into my head was #sunfuckers incorporated, honestly.

18. Name a song that never fails to make you happy. >> No song is 100% successful at that, obviously, but Blood Red Summer by Coheed and Cambria has a strong track record. Very bright, very vibrant, probably about something either horrific or sad (deceptively fun-sounding songs about interstellar war and sundered family dynamics and lost/broken love -- all amindst vague cosmic horror -- is kind of their thing, after all).

19. If you had to diagnose yourself with any mental illness, which would it be? >> ASD is my self-diagnosis.

20. Would you like to reconnect with any friends that you’ve lost contact with? >> I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

21. Name at least three things you could stand to cut out of your life. >> Whatever it is, I probably won’t be cutting it out of my life any time soon, so there’s no point in even pretending otherwise.

22. What is “normal”? Are you normal? >> I assume that the most practical working definition for ‘normal’ is ‘consistently compatible and compliant with the beliefs, morals, and behaviour systems of one’s society’ -- if so, I feign ‘normal’ with varying success. Mostly I am content with being a quiet but adamant outlier.

23. Biggest turn ons? >> Expansive and adaptable consciousness. Abnormally high levels of curiosity and mirth. At least two (2) tentacular appendages.

24. Do you practice what you preach? >> What I preach is usually integral to my being, so I can’t help but practice it. What I parrot is often a different story. (Parroting, I’ve found, is useful in the successful maintenance of a person suit. I don’t parrot much here, so don’t worry. It’s mostly for the benefit of people less fortunate in the cognition and analysis department who unfortunately have the ability to make my outlier life difficult.)

25. Would you prefer to live in a city, the suburbs, the countryside, or the mountains? >> I’d prefer to live in the Garden District of New Orleans.

26. Give me the story of your life in six words. >> It is without beginning or end.

27. Would you rather be alone doing something you enjoy, or doing something you don’t like with your best friends? >> I will always choose to be alone doing something I enjoy. Additionally, anyone who considers themselves a friend of mine would prefer I not do something I don’t enjoy simply for the sake of keeping them company.

28. Tell me something you think would surprise people. >> As a child, I was deathly afraid of thunderstorms. (My theories on this vary. Either way, my fear completely disappeared without fanfare sometime in adolescence; there is a memory I hold of being 13 and watching a summer storm in North Carolina with avid fascination, and suddenly thinking, Wait, aren’t I supposed to be afraid of this?)

29. Is your current hair colour your natural hair colour? >> Yes.

30. Why is your favourite band your favourite? >> My favourites are my favourites because they express things I keenly recognise and often do not have words for.

31. Name something that you miss. >> Her.

32. Share five goals that you want completed in the next thirty days. >> Um... I’d like to finish at least two more Loremaster sub-achievements on WoW, get my Norn up to at least lvl50 on GW2, watch the rest of Queen Sugar, finally nut up and watch Moonlight, and get my end of the Reddit/SyFy Gift Exchange done.

33. What do you do when you can’t sleep? >> Read, usually. Or watch some episodes of an Adult Swim show (or something equally low-commitment).

34. If you were told you were going to have three daughters, what would you want to name them? >> Whatever names come to me when I am holding them, or whatever names Sparrow wants to give them. What I hate is that you have to name them then and there -- I prefer the ritual of naming to be closer to toddlerhood.

35. How do you feel when someone says something mean/disrespectful towards your favourite band/musician? >> I don’t feel anything, usually. Being a Creed fan as a teenager has given me a blessedly thick skin towards that sort of thing, trust me.

36. What’s the funniest film you’ve ever seen? >> I really liked Life (the Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence flick), Caddyshack (it’s so fucking weird in that older-film sort of way but I lost my shit at so many scenes that I have to give it its due), and The Secret Life of Pets (I guess I’m the perfect demographic for that kind of ridiculousness). Oh, and Kung Fu Hustle. I know there are a few others but I forget them now. Comedy movies that really amuse me are almost harder for me to find than horror movies that don’t make me roll my eyes out of my head.

37. What’s your favourite children’s TV show/movie? >> My favourite children’s movies are The Pagemaster and The Prince of Egypt. The Neverending Story gets honourable mention just for being so damn iconic. My favourite children’s programming is The Amazing World of Gumball, Steven Universe, and some stuff I’m probably forgetting but trying to dig around in the pile of countless forms of media I’ve consumed over time in order to answer these questions is really not how I want to spend my night.

38. What do you do when you can’t sleep and you don’t have your phone? >> Why wouldn’t I have my phone, though...? I guess I’d get up and do something else.

39. What is your purpose in life? >> Whatever it is, I assume I’m fulfilling it.

40. What’s one thing you cannot live without? >> Aside from the “duh” answers, I will say mental stimulation and variety. I couldn’t live in solitary confinement with absolutely nothing to do, I’d probably lose it faster than the average (if I don’t figure out a way to kill myself).

41. Put the seven deadly sins in order of the one you commit the most to the least. >> Superbia, Acedia, Gula, Avaritia, Luxuria, Ira, Invidia.

42. What’s something that’s on your bucket list? >> Skydiving. Natch.

43. Have you ever been told you look like a famous person? If so, who? >> The only two famous people I’ve ever been compared to (to my face) are Grace Jones and Harold Perrineau.

44. Can you cook? If so, what are your favourite dishes to make? >> I can cook well enough not to starve. I haven’t gotten to a point where I enjoy cooking, though. Maybe one day.

45. What was the last decision you regretted making? >> Meh.

46. Whose opinion of yourself do you value the most? >> Can Calah’s. Sparrow’s, as far as corporeal human beings are concerned.

47. Anything that makes you angry? >> There is nothing that is consistently guaranteed to make me angry. I usually experience anger as a cumulative “last straw” kind of thing. Which can make it seem “out of the blue” to others, I realise. But at least it’s infrequent.

48. Age you get mistaken for? >> Anything from late teens to early twenties, appearance-wise. Online, anything from late teens to... mid thirties, I think.

49. When was the last time you paid for music? >> I think the last album I bought was The Buttress’ Behind Every Great Man.

50. Night or day? >> Both, please. And the spaces in between.

#surveysofsamedi

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irregularwebcomic · 7 years

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[Irregular Webcomic! #1609 Rerun](http://ift.tt/1nuXeiM)

Normally when I receive complimentary e-mails I dash off a quick reply and then delete the message. (My mind still exists in the "keep your mailbox tidy because it'll eat up all your disk space otherwise" days of the early 1990s.) But recently I received one that I've been unable to bring myself to delete. The reader writes, in part:

I don't usually write to any of the myriad of webcomic authors whose work I read; even if their work makes me laugh I'm just too lazy. But, I just had to tell you, your IWC is the BEST original work I have ever come across. [...] your dedication to casually spreading advanced scientific knowledge and post-religious morals is truly inspiring.

I came across your stuff last night around 11 pm and read the entire archive. So many wikipedia tangents, so many browser tabs. So many WTF it is the next morning now? When I read about the mercury poisoning in Japan I became so angry I yelled at my computer. Your explanations of complex physics and math have an elegance at least on par with that of any popular scientific writers. I could go on, but in short, you win. You have redeemed Teh Intarwebz.

Now obviously this is pretty high praise and the sort of thing that would swell anyone's head. But two bits really got me. The "mercury poisoning in Japan" sentence. I've already discussed this, and you can go back and read it again if you wish. I remembered the tears in my eyes as I wrote the annotation to that particular strip. So many people suffering, absolutely pointlessly, amidst corporate and government apathy. I remembered being horrified when I first learnt about that terrible episode of human history when I was in high school.

It brought back memories of other things too. Also in high school, my English class read The Diary of Anne Frank. I remembered groaning when I was given the copy of this book with some girl on the front cover and being told it was her diary, and we had to read it and write essays about it. As background work we were also given assignments to research and write about the Nazi-perpetrated Holocaust. I recall vividly the awful photographs I uncovered in the history books in the school library. The mind-numbing numbers of people killed, and the heartless ways in which it happened. It was gruesome, but fascinating.

In my recent trip to Germany, I made it a point to visit the Jewish Museum in Berlin. Because of Anne Frank and those assignments I was forced to do at school. We need to know what depths of depravity humanity is capable of descending to in order to understand what we can do to rise above it.

Which brings me to the real showstopper in that e-mail:

your dedication to casually spreading [...] post-religious morals is truly inspiring.

That has to be one of the most wonderful things anyone has ever said to me.

I wasn't even aware I was doing any such thing. I write these comics because it's a creative outlet for me. I'm not after fame or fortune (certainly not fortune!). I could probably grow my audience by a factor of two or three simply by submitting my site to a few webcomic indexing sites - but that's not what I'm about. I like to think I still have a small core group of people who come here every day to get a slice of something that will perhaps make them laugh, perhaps make them smirk, perhaps make them groan, perhaps make them think a little. I want to feel like there's something personal here.

So the comments I write here in these annotations are merely an extra way to get something from my mind across to you. Now: "post-religious morals"?

I like to think of myself as a moral person. I'm sure most of us do. And, while I don't think I've explicitly stated it at any point, watchful readers may have deduced that my religious beliefs fall into the realm of atheism. I'm willing to give some ground if God (or a god) manifests in front of me and does some miracle stuff, but failing that, my working assumption is that the Big Guy doesn't exist.

I've seen some very disturbing arguments made by some religious people (of more or less fundamentalist persuasions) to the effect of: If you don't believe in God, you can't be a moral person. I've never understood this, and it has always bothered me. How can people even make such statements? I don't believe in God, yet as far as I know I'm not a criminal, sociopath, drug dealer, axe murderer, or anything like that. I happen to think I live a pretty respectable life and have done vastly more good in the world than any of my few ill-considered rash actions that I promptly regretted soon after.

As far as I usually see it, the argument goes like this: God tells us how to behave morally. If you don't believe in God, you have no moral guidance, therfore you must be immoral.

A few weeks ago I saw a blog somewhere - I forget where. Anyway, there was a post and a series of comments about whether we possess free will or not (it was around the time I wrote this poll question). The discussion centred on the thought experiment of "would you shoot an innocent person, given no extenuating circumstances"? For the vast majority of us the answer is, instantly and incontrovertibly, no. The application to the free will question then is that if you are incapable of shooting this person, perhaps you don't actually possess the free will to actively decide to shoot them. Of course this invites the argument that, "Well, actually I could decide to shoot them, I just wouldn't." At which point the argument can go in circles for as long as the arguers enjoy it.

Someone raised the question, "Well if you have the free will to decide to shoot, but never actually do shoot, what's stopping you?"

Someone answered, "God."

"And what if God doesn't exist?"

"Well then I guess I'd shoot the person."

Wait a second. How does someone who believes in God and God's moral code and is a moral person, come to the conclusion that if God did not exist then God's rules would simply not apply and he would be able to bring himself to shoot a completely innocent person?

He's literally saying that he's only a moral person because God exists and lays down the law. He said, right there in black and white, that if God didn't exist, moral laws would cease to apply and he would go around casually killing people.

Now one conclusion you could come to is that this guy is a complete nutter and should be locked up in an institution somewhere. But I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, because clearly he is not actually going around murdering people, and (because of God) he actually thinks that killing people is a bad thing to do. But the really scary thing is that this is not the first time I've seen such an argument. Over the years, in various places, I've seen many religious people make the statement in more words or less that if God wasn't around, there'd be nothing to stop people doing any antisocial, violent, evil thing they feel like whenever the whim takes them.

I've never understood how religious people who are basically good can think like this. It seems clear to me that the vast majority of atheists (thus with no religious moral code) are basically moral people, extremely unlikely to swing at people with axes when the fancy takes them. If they weren't, the world would be a seriously dreadful place. How can the people who believe this sort of thing not see that?

So this has always puzzled and disturbed me. Until a few days ago when I raised the topic in conversation with a friend of mine. And he had an explanation.

Atheists, he said, need to find a moral direction from within. We need to examine our own values and beliefs in the context of human society, put some thought into them, and behave in ways that accord with what we decide is the moral way to act. There are various expressions of moral codes that work in this context. A simple one is "do unto others as you would have them do unto you." You don't need to believe in God to think about that and decide that yes, if everyone lived by that simple maxim, the world would be a nicer place. You don't need God to be nice to people. You don't need God to have morals.

Strongly religious people, on the other hand, get moral direction from the authority of God. God tells them how to behave, and God is the most important thing in their lives, so there's their moral code right there. They never have to think about their morals, because they are decreed from on high. They never have to go through a logical argument with themselves to decide that they should be nice to other people - they're just nice to people because that's what God says to do. If they never have to internalise their values and derive their own moral code, then it's not even something that they realise can be done. When a person like this looks at an atheist, they don't realise that the atheist has probably spent time (more or less consciously) to produce a moral code that they endeavour to live up to. All they see is someone without the moral code of God. They don't realise that there are other ways in which one can be a moral person. So they conclude that the atheist has no morals.

This is why religious fundamentalists are so scared of atheists. Everyone who believes is okay, because God will keep them in line, but those atheists, they'll probably stick a knife in you as soon as look at you. This is the problem with religious fundamentalist morals.

(I should stress at this point that I'm talking about the more extreme sort of fundamentalist. As with any word there are different definitions, and I know some readers of this comic describe themselves as "fundamentalist". As long as you don't believe that I'm an immoral potential murderer, I'm not talking about you.)

Richard Dawkins recently released a book titled The God Delusion. I have not read this book (yet), though I am interested to pursue it relatively soon. As I understand it, the book is a scathing attack on religion and the belief in God. Dawkins is apparently on a mission to discredit religion of all stripes and promote atheism as the solution to the world's problems. Atheism does not need a champion like Dawkins. Sadly, I can see that all his book will accomplish is to inflame religious opposition.

What we need is an atheist spokesperson to sit down with religious people and discuss issues with them. To point out that atheists are not scary people with no morals. That we have moral codes and are good people, and to describe how we have become moral people through our own introspection and thought. To point out that deep down we're really the same - people on a small planet, mostly trying to live good lives and do our best to find our way in a world that has enough dangers without us making more of our own through misunderstandings.

How do we develop thoughtful morals in people, as opposed to God-given ones? We educate our children. We teach them the history of the world. The bad bits as well as the good bits. We show them what happens when people treat each other badly. We get them to think about what is right and what is wrong, rather than just telling them. If you tell people something as an edict from authority, sooner or later they're going to question why. It'd be nice to have answers that lead to essentially the same conclusions, rather than an emptiness that can lead people to think morals can only exist in a world with a God, or in people who believe in a God.

When I first received that e-mail, I was taken aback by those words: "post-religious morals". I had to think for some time about exactly what that meant, and in what possible way I could have come across in the previous 1600 comics as conveying anything of that ilk to my audience. And honestly, I can't recall any particular instance of me expressing a moral opinion, other than that mention of the Minamata Bay tragedy that had already been brought to my attention. I suppose there must have been others, if this reader had seen fit to comment on it.

I suppose if you try to live a moral life, it just rubs off on people somehow. That's a good feeling.

I've received an overwhelming amount of feedback to this annotation. I don't have the time to reply to it all, but most of it is welcome and I thank you for writing.

Almost all of the response has been positive, both from atheists and religious believers. The response from religious people has generally been along two lines: (1) Yes, I agree, it's a shame that some atheists and theists find it necessary to fight or simply misunderstand each other so badly. (2) Thank you, you've given me some food for thought.

I've received criticism too, from both directions. Some took me to task for attacking Richard Dawkins. I confess I based my conclusion that "Atheism does not need a champion like Dawkins" on a lack of research on my part. I reserve judgement until I become more familiar with Dawkins' work on promulgating atheism. And some believers asked me to consider some points that I hadn't mentioned.

One particularly interesting one is that what many theists find scary about atheists is not that they don't understand where an atheist gets his morals from, but that an atheist's morals, being based on introspection and thought, are liable to change under different circumstances, whereas God's morals are absolute and provide certainty of action. I can see that this line of thought would be potentially disturbing to a theist, and I thank those readers who pointed it out. (I would argue that theists who hold this belief are discounting the very real notion that someone following God's moral laws can also change their mind under different circumstances, and also that the same moral law clearly does not lead to the same moral choices by believers - just look at how many believers of any given religion disagree on various issues.)

I've also received some scathing attacks from religious believers, stating that my arguments are full of logical holes and that either, yes, by declaring myself an atheist I am indeed immoral, or that I may have morals, but they were given to me by God and I'm just too stupid to realise it.

Interestingly, I hadn't received any such strongly negative comments until five days after this strip appeared, when suddenly several landed in my mailbox. I suspect someone has linked to my strip from some religious forum somewhere and is stirring up people to send me hate mail.

My question is, how is writing to viciously attack me moral behaviour?

2017-08-26 Rerun commentary: The funny thing is that I do now have a link advertising the availability of the first Irregular Webcomic! book. Still no T-shirts, though. I don't have anything to add to the long annotation above, except to mention that this year I started volunteering to teach primary school children ethics (which is not exactly the same thing as morals, I know), as part of the Primary Ethics program here in New South Wales. I currently teach a Year 4 class[1] once a week. I would do more, but I need to take a 2-hour slot out of my working week every week during school term to do this (lesson time plus travel time), and make up the time with my employer by staying back later. This has reduced the time I have available to make comics and engage in other hobby and leisure pursuits, but I think it's worth it. [1] That's children about 10 years old. I currently have 19 kids in my class. They can be a bit of a handful at times. If you ever want to appreciate how hard teachers have to work and how underappreciated and underpaid they are, try actually teaching a classroom full of kids some time.

#Irregular Webcomic!

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