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#this is especially true after the sun tree revelations
feelmyskinonyourskin · 6 months
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How to Say I Love You [Five Things Trope]
Pairing: Frank Castle x AFAB Reader
Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Five Things style 1. Snippets of interactions between characters, with a common theme, showing five instances that follow the pattern and one that doesn't. "The four times Frank thinks 'I love you' and the one time he actually says it."
Warnings: 18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader, Fem pronouns. No direct sexual action/SMUT, but it’s mentioned enough that I’m marking this as 18+. Mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, mention of a hospital, mention of blood. 
WC: 2,500
*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*
The first time Frank realized he loved you was in the afterglow of a particularly raunchy round of sex. How cliche, he thought to himself.
You laid beside him, all doe-eyed and radiant looking, staring into his eyes as though you were trying to stare into his soul. And oh god, how you did, and you didn’t even know you were doing it.
“What’s going through your head, big guy?” you asked, stroking his face and trying to smooth away the crease that had formed across his brow. How easily you could clock when his brain was working too hard and his thoughts were a million miles away.
“Thinkin’ about how beautiful you look.” 
Which was partially true. After all, your beauty was one of the many things that made him fall in love with you.
You wouldn’t have suspected Frank Castle was one for pillow talk, but every time you fell in bed together, he managed to surprise you.
And like always, you saw right through him.
“That right?”
You both decided it was best not to put a label on this, whatever this was. Talking about feelings teetered a tightrope that was dangerously close to that. Especially talking about feelings like love right after sex. Not to mention the amount of his stuff that had begun taking up home in your place and vice-versa. No, you wouldn’t mention the hoodie he left every time he went on a long job so that you’d have something of his to wrap you in comfort, or the little notes and snacks you’d slip into his duffle before he left in the morning. Or the more and more frequent sleepovers that involved no sex, just wanting to be near each other. Nope, neither you nor he wanted to bring it up. He especially didn’t want to let on that the L-word was dancing on the tip of his tongue.
He shook his head and held back a smile.
“Okay, well whenever you’re ready to spill, I’m all ears.” you said, coy smirk painting your lips as you leaned in and rested your head against his chest, falling asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat. 
Goddamnit, he was down bad.
The second time Frank realized he loved you was in spring. The trees in Central Park were all in bloom and you danced down the path beside him, reveling in the recent break in the weather and the sunshine.
He had to chuckle, how pretty you looked when you turned your face upward to the glow of the sun and asked,
“Frankie, can we get ice cream?”
“Darlin, it’s still under 60 degrees.”
You took his hand and led him through the park, despite his protestations that it was too early in the season for frozen treats. 
You almost looked like a real couple, hand in hand sauntering along, not really in a rush to get anywhere and stopping every so often to admire the park.
You paused, suddenly turning about face on the path and pulling him along with you.
“Sweetheart, what’s up? Ice cream’s this way.” he pointed over his shoulder
“Ah. You’re right. It’s still too cold.”
You never admitted he was right. About anything.
Frank glanced behind him, making sure he clocked anything you might even think could be a threat. Then he saw it, the reason you so suddenly changed course.
Central Park Carousel, the sign read, big arrow pointing in the exact direction you had been heading. 
You knew what happened to his family and though he didn’t talk about it (because again, talking about feelings wasn’t what this was supposed to be) you saw the toll it took on him emotionally. 
You wanted him to have a day clear and free of worry and memories. 
You were being thoughtful and proactive about his emotions. Damnit, he was so in love with you.
The third time Frank realized he loved you, much like the first time, was late at night. This time, there was no steamy sex involved, just a lot of blood and bandages.
Damnit, he never wanted you to see him like this, see who he is on the job, what it turns him into. Sure, you knew he was the Punisher and you knew he killed people, but it’s different to see it up close.
He went to your place. Rationalization rattled around his head that your apartment was closer and getting to you to stitch him up instead of trekking all the way to his place would greatly decrease his chances of bleeding out. 
But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the truth. Maybe it was because he missed you, maybe he really just wanted the comfort of your body beside his after an exhausting night, or maybe he realized how deep in it he was and wanted you to see this side of him before it was too late for both of you, so you could shun him away and break his heart like he deserved.
“Happiness is a kick in the balls just waiting to happen” he once told Curtis, so here he was, trying to self-sabotage and kick his own balls before life could do it for him.
But you didn’t even bat an eye when you swung open the door to your apartment and found him standing there, mangled and bruised.
“That one might scar.” you commented as you tied up the thread on the stitches
“Never too worried about em lookin pretty.”
“That's okay, your face is pretty enough.” you said, beginning the process of cleaning up the wipes and blood and bandages littering your bathroom counter 
He shook his head with a chuckle, trying to hide the blush growing across his face.
“Besides, it gives you character.” You kissed him on the temple as you exited the bathroom.
He placed his elbows on his knees and bent over with a sigh, biting his tongue until you were out of ear shot.
“Love you too” he whispered under his breath
The fourth time Frank realized he loved you was on Mother’s Day. It had become his ritual, visiting their graves on important days. Mother’s Day was one of them. Afterall, some of his favorite memories of Maria were of her being the most amazing mom to their kids. 
You insisted on going with him, not wanting him to be alone and drowning in the Frank Castle pity party.
“Stop being so fucking thoughtful cause it’s making me love you more.” he wanted to shout, but he didn’t. Instead he just nodded and smiled and held your hand in silence the entire drive from his apartment to the cemetery, not letting go until you’re well out of the truck and up the familiar path.
You gave him space once you came within reach of the grave. Peonies for Maria, daisies for Lisa and carnations for Frank Jr.
You sat together on the damp earth in silence for a long while. Your hand absent-mindedly rubbed and scratched his back and you wiped away a few tears that fell from his eyes.
He thought about saying it right then and there, admitting to you finally how much he truly loved you. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, instead just keeping the silence that hung between you.
On the off chance you didn’t run screaming in the other direction when he finally told you, he didn’t want to do it here. To taint a special new moment with the ghosts of his past and meld a new beginning with the old life he was so desperately clinging onto. So he didn’t say anything, eventually rising to his feet and taking your hand once more to walk back to the truck.
The first time Frank Castle laid eyes on Karen Page was in a hospital. Here he was again, stalking the halls of a hospital with the same laser focus on his mission. And there was Karen, standing stone-faced, arms crossed in front of her chest.
“She doesn’t want to see you.” 
“The fuck she does,” he tried to push past her
“Frank,” Karen shoved against his shoulder. Goddamnit, why was she nearly as stubborn as you?  “She doesn’t want to see you.”
“The hell you mean, she doesn’t want to see me? She’s not answering my calls and I haven't heard from her in days so I go to her place and she's not there but there's blood on the bathroom floor and I gotta call everyone in her contacts just for you to give me a cryptic ‘she’s in the hospital’ with no details.”
Karen looked to the ground, avoiding his gaze.
“Then I gotta go to every hospital on the west side just so you can tell me she doesn't want to see me? What the fuck happened?”
Karen just shook her head.
“Go home Frank. She’ll call you when she’s ready.”
If there was one person who could get Frank to stand down, it was Karen, which was precisely why you called her.
“Well he’s gone. For now. But you know he’s gonna come back and you’re gonna have to tell him eventually.” she said with a sigh, plopping down in the chair next to your hospital bed
“I know. I’m just scared of how he’ll react.” you replied, gnawing at your bottom lip
She nodded knowingly. 
“I’m gonna go hunt down some coffee. We both look like we need it.”
You almost fell asleep in her absence, until a loud crash came from behind the curtain drawn around your bed.
“Shit,” a gruff voice rung out amongst the beeps and whirs of the medical machines you were connected to.
“Frank?”
Sheepishly, he poked his head around the curtain, seeing you in your pitiful state for the first time.
“Hey sweetheart.” 
You swore you’d never heard this giant, tough man be more timid in his life.
“How are you here?” you asked with a sigh, rubbing at your temple
“Snuck in the window.”
“Okay, you’re never allowed to call me stubborn again.” you joked, causing a smile to crack along his hardened face
It broke the tension enough that he closed the gap between you, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and taking your hand in his.
“You gonna tell me what happened, or why you don’t wanna see me?”
A sigh escaped your lips, tears threatening to spill over as you dreaded having this conversation with him.
“I didn’t want you to be mad,” it came out as almost a whisper.
“Why would I be mad?”
“A couple weeks ago– I realized my period was late. So I took a test and it was positive.”
Frank’s face went stoic, brown eyes usually so full of warmth when they looked at you now steely black.
“You didn’t tell me?”
You shook your head and continued,
“I was scared to tell you. And I didn’t know what I wanted to do about it anyway, so I figured there was no point in telling you until I decided. I didn’t know if that was something you ever wanted again and especially with me.” 
He listened as you rambled, not once taking his gaze off of you as he continued to grasp your hand in his. 
“But then yesterday,” you continued, “I started bleeding. I knew it probably meant I miscarried. But then the bleeding just didn’t stop. So I went to the ER. And they said I hemorrhaged. And I had surgery this morning.”
“What was your plan? Just never gonna tell me?”
“I don’t know Frank, I wasn’t really thinking things through, okay? I didn’t want you to be with me just out of obligation!”
“You think I’m here out of obligation? You think I snuck through a third story window out of obligation?”
“I knew you and Maria got married quickly because she got pregnant. You’re just so fucking noble and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do something that was ‘correct’ and end up miserable and resenting me. I know this isn’t the kind of life you want anymore. I know I can’t replace her.”
“Hey!” he retorted, leaning in to get closer to you “Look, I loved my wife. Even before she got pregnant, I knew she was the one, yeah? There was not a single moment I regretted my life with her. And there is not a single moment I’ve regretted with you, except whatever the hell I did to make you think you had to hide this from me.”
The tears were now flowing down your face and you had to look away from his intense stare. Taking a moment to choke back a sob before you spoke again, your words came out hushed.
“But there’s the difference Frank, you loved her. Even before she got pregnant, you loved her. But because you loved her so much, I don’t know that you’ll ever love me. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“I didn’t think I could either,” he sighed “but then you came along. And no matter how much I tried to push you away, your stubborn ass just kept comin.”
“What are you saying Frank?”
“I’m sayin that I love you.”
“You’re not just saying that cause I’m all sick and pitiful?” you asked
“Nah. I’m sayin it because you being all sick and pitiful scared the shit outta me enough to finally say it out loud. But I been thinkin about it a while.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Frank?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
The widest smile you’d ever seen grew across Frank’s face. He leaned forward slowly, cupping  your jaw and placing the most gentle kiss on your lips. You had to smile as he pulled away, so elated that you almost forget where you were and that you were in a very unglamorous hospital gown in a very unromantic hospital room.
“So what happened with your surgery? You gonna be okay?” he asked, giving you another look up and down
“Yeah. They got me all fixed up and as long as the next blood transfusion takes, I’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”
“Hey” he took your chin in his large hand, making you look at him “Don’t you ever keep something like this from me okay? I promise, I won't be mad. I just wanna be here for you cause I love you.”
The monitor beside you beeped, indicating your heart skipped a beat when he said it again.
“I love you too, big guy.”
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lillotte17 · 6 months
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Stars Choose Their Lovers
AN: Because I enjoy making myself sad, I liked the thought of Aziraphale and Crowley having a relationship before the beginning, so I leaned into it a wrote a scene of them in the garden of Eden before Crowley manages to tempt the humans with any apples.
I might come back and add more scenes if the mood strikes me, because the concept is still good, but for now it's just a one shot. :)
~~~
The garden is nice.
Aziraphale supposes that was the entire point of the place, but that didn’t make it any less true. It hummed and bustled and sighed and rustled with everything new and green and growing. In Heaven every sound sang the same, and it always had, and it always would. Every angelic voice was pitched to match in flawless ethereal harmony forever. It was undeniably beautiful, but after a few millennia, its loveliness began to stagnate a bit in Aziraphale’s estimation. It seemed to sound an awful lot like emptiness.
Especially after the Rebellion.
It had not taken Aziraphale long to realize that he had no great fondness for war. There hadn’t been much of a choice about fighting in it, though. Heaven couldn’t simply roll over and let the demons take control of the universe, after all. He had apparently done his part well enough to get assigned to the Eastern Gate of Eden, but the victory had felt as hollow as their Heavenly choirs.
They had lost fellow angels. To both the Fall and the fight that followed. He knew he should not question the Almighty’s decisions. He knew that Lucifer and his ilk were traitors bent on destroying all of God’s new creations. And yet, whilst all the other angels reveled and rejoiced at the ruin and damnation of their former brethren, all Aziraphale could feel was grief.
Being in the garden is better.
None of the new animals make any serious demands of him. The whole of the Heavenly Host is largely focused on the initial pair of breeding humans and what they might be up to, which means that he has mostly been left to his own devices. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to stand in the vicinity of an apple tree and occasionally waggle his finger at anything that came too close. He likes to sit in the shade and feel the solid realness of the place surrounding him. He likes to smell the sweet freshness of the water and the wind and the plants. He likes that the light shining down on his face is warm and golden, and when the long days finally draw to a close and the sun sinks behind the garden walls, he likes to stand in silence and watch the stars.
He hopes that the humans are enjoying them.
The serpent arrives on the sixth hour of the sixth day.
Aziraphale never worked on the designs for any of the garden’s snakes, but he still knows that this one is different. It’s absolutely enormous for starters, but besides that, it also happens to exude an air of malevolence that none of the other occupants of Eden seem to possess. Its yellow gaze lacks the rest of the animals’ simple-minded innocence. And it keeps staring at him.
A demon, then.
Even with the war and its centuries of battles, Aziraphale has never actually killed anything. He would prefer to keep it that way. The peace between them is still fragile, the ink on the truce they signed still metaphorically wet upon the page, with both sides still bruised and aching. Itching for an excuse to lash out at each other once more. Any other angel might have seen this as a good enough reason to start something, but he does not have any direct orders to attack the members of the opposition, and so he won’t. The plants and the animals here are all still newly-made and delicate, and he is meant to be protecting them. Starting an all-out brawl in Eden would create yet another battlefield, and decimate the garden. But perhaps even more than that, he simply does not wish to fight anymore. Flaming sword be damned.
Aziraphale is to guard the Eastern Gate, and the Tree of Knowledge, and thwart the wiles of Evil. He can do all of that without smiting anything. Besides, the demon has not seen fit to do much more than skulk around, watching the humans and himself and the apple tree without doing much to interact with any of them.
It hardly seems worth killing them over.  
He half-heartedly shoos them away with the sword a few times, when it looks as though they might be about to try something, and the snake slithers off without complaint. No words exchanged. No threatening postures. Almost as if the demon is not particularly interested in fighting either.
It feels like a rather uneasy stalemate, but Aziraphale finds it much more tolerable than the alternative. By the end of the day, he is tentatively hopeful that this is the way things will continue for some time. The pair of them circling each other, going through the motions of fulfilling their duties without ever actually landing a hit for either side.
And then the sun goes down, the humans go to sleep, and the serpent unfurls itself into a shape not so different from Aziraphale’s own.
The angel is standing on the wall, looking down into the garden. The demon steps out of the shadows of the trees below and tips their head back, angling their gaze towards the sky. They cut a strange, lanky, angular figure, and they move as though they haven’t used a pair of legs for getting around in quite a long time. The whole of them seems to sway as they walk, black wings stretched wide to help them keep their balance, brushing gently through the foliage as they go. Their robes are as dark as the surrounding night, and the angel might not have noticed them at all if it hadn’t been for their hair. Wild and bright and flickering behind them like the flame from Aziraphale’s sword.
Out in the open, the moonlight paints the edges their features in silver, and if the angel had actually needed to breathe, he might have been in real trouble, because the whole of him freezes on the spot.
Brow furrowed, lips parted slightly, and golden eyes wide with wonder and grief and unfathomable longing, the demon stares up at the stars with a face that Aziraphale had only ever thought to see again in dreams.
He should maintain his distance, he knows. He should hold himself away. But something in the center of his being is raw and wounded in a way he hasn’t felt since before the Rebellion, and when those brilliant yellow eyes finally slide down from the starlight and find him in the dark on the wall, he is fluttering down to join them before he can quite help himself.
The demon tilts his head at him curiously when he lands in the grass a few feet away, but they do not seem particularly afraid. They do not threaten him, but they do not greet him, either. They do not call him by his name.
“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asks at last, having thought of nothing better to fill the gaping silence between them.
The demon shrugs carelessly.
“Head office just wants to keep the playing field even, I reckon. Prove that even though we lost, we’re not gone. Got to keep the Almighty on her toes. Or something like that, I dunno. She probably doesn’t even have toes.”
Aziraphale manages not to roll his eyes, but it is a near thing.
“No, I meant what are you doing here?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you! Why did they send you here, instead of…someone else?”
The demon laughs, and it is a sharp, mocking sound.
“Who else should they have sent instead?” They wonder.
‘Someone I didn’t know. Someone I didn’t-’
“Oh, never mind!” He snaps at them instead, heat rising in his face. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re a demon.”
“You thought that Hell might send someone up here who wasn’t?”
“No, of course not, I meant-” He nearly bites down on his own tongue to stop the sentence from completing itself. He meets their gaze. Holds it longer than he should. Looking for traces of lost things. A hint of deep brown in a field of yellow. “Do you…know who I am?”
“Course I do!” The demon grins toothily. Aziraphale’s throat tightens as surely as if they had wrapped all ten of their long fingers around it and squeezed. “You’re the Angel of the Eastern Gate. God’s chosen little cherub to mind the Tree of Knowledge. Very important, I must say. Very imposing. You must have made quite an impression with the right people during the war.”
He is not certain if he feels more staggered by disappointment or annoyance, but his wings droop just the same. He glances away. Tugging at the sleeves of his tunic in agitation, floundering a bit as he struggles to think of a reason not to leave.
“You say that, but you don’t seem to be particularly intimidated by me.” He notes glumly.
“Hm, should I be?”
“I am the one with a sword,” he reminds them.
“And are you going to use it on me?” The demon wonders with a wide, curling grin.
Aziraphale makes a face.
“Well, It would serve you right if I did!”
They laugh at him, not sounding the least bit cowed. There’s no meanness in it this time, though. None of their earlier mockery. If anything, they seem genuinely amused. Golden eyes catching specks of starlight, reflecting their delight.
He opens his mouth, their name bright and burning on the tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of it, in the end. Purses his lips tightly and swallows it back down. The fallen angels had lost their names along with their grace and…everything else. It wouldn’t be right to use it now.
“What were you doing out here, anyway?” He asks instead, sounding terse and feeling haggard. “The humans are both sleeping, you’ve got no one to lure in with one of your evil schemes.”
“Oh, I dunno,” the demon shrugs again, still smiling, “There’s always you, isn’t there?”
Aziraphale stiffens, expression souring exponentially.
“That is not funny,” he huffs, sticking his chin out and puffing himself up a little as he turns away. He stretches his wings wide, intending to retake his position up on the wall. The demon takes a half step closer, edging around him before he can get away.
“Look, I didn’t mean it like that, alright?” they say in a rush, holding up their hands in a gesture of peace, “Nothing in my job description involves tarnishing anybody’s halo, I’m just here to ruffle some feathers, that’s all. And…”
“And?” 
 Their gaze slides back up towards the sky.
“And I wanted to see…”
Aziraphale follows their line of sight. It really is quite beautiful. The colors are not nearly as vivid as the view from the nebula he remembers them making when they first met, but it is certainly nothing to turn one’s nose up at.
“You wanted to see the stars?”
“Nng, well… Yeah.” They grunt, looking a bit uncomfortable about it and scratching a spot on their nose. “Believe it or not, the view from Hell leaves a lot to be desired.”
“You don’t say.”
The stand together in silence for a time. The demon watching the heavens. The angel watching them in turn.
“You know… You can see even more of them from the wall.” Aziraphale mentions casually, finally turning away and spreading his wings again to fly off.
“Was that an offer?” The demon wonders.
“It was a statement,” he replies coolly, “What you decide to do with that information is entirely up to you.”
Without a second look back, Aziraphale flaps his wings and takes off. It is a short flight back to his initial perch, but he makes sure to keep his eyes fixed on the empty wilderness beyond the garden walls. He doesn’t wish to give the impression that he is hoping for the demon to follow him up, after all.
Barely a minute passes before a fluttering of dark feathers has the demon landing deftly on the wall beside him. They give a low appreciative whistle, turning this way and that as they try to look in every direction at once. Aziraphale fights the urge to smile.
“Well, you certainly weren’t lying about the view from up here.”
“I never lie,” Aziraphale sniffs, “I’m an angel.”
“Of course not,” they smirk, “Otherwise you’d be just like me, wouldn’t you?”
“Well…that is…” He trails off, but the demon seems to have gone back to looking at the stars, so it doesn’t seem to matter much that he is lacking a witty reply. The yearning has crept its way back into their expression, and Aziraphale aches to see it despite himself.
“Do you…remember anything at all from when you were an angel?” he wonders.
“Mm, I remember… Not much, honestly.” They confess with a deep exhale of breath they had no need to be holding. “Just enough for it to hurt. Which was the point, I imagine.”
“They said it was meant as an act of mercy.” Aziraphale says without much conviction.
“Did they, now?” they chuckled dryly, “And does that seem merciful to you?”
“I don’t know,” he admits with a shake of his head, “I suppose it is kinder not to remember all the things you must have lost after the war. There are few things I would not mind forgetting.”
“Even if those memories are what make you who you are?”
“Well, it isn’t as though it changes your soul, does it?” Aziraphale asks, giving them a sidelong glance.
“I’m not so sure,” they grunt in reply, “I mean…I know I’m not the same as the angel I was created to be. I can’t be. Not anymore.”
“But maybe someday… I mean, the Almighty could always change their mind.”
“Even if she did, I wouldn’t.” They hiss out, sharp and fierce. Aziraphale flinches slightly, and they relent somewhat. They sound both resigned and determined as they continue. “Choices were made. Bridges burned. The angel that I was before… They don’t exist anymore. They’re gone. Forever.”
Aziraphale feels cold and heavy. As if his wings could not even begin to bear his weight if he tried to fly off to somewhere else. He can tell that his expression is starting to crumple in on itself, so he turns away.
He remembers, even if they cannot. The way their face lit up with unbridled joy and wonder. Wings and arms and hair all bouncing with delight. Always moving, always reaching out with curiosity and optimism. Watching new nebulas and galaxies and solar systems bloom in the empty darkness of space. Watching him.
Soft hands. White feathers. Crisp clean robes. Gold-limed beauty in both word and silence. Questions and hope and creation. Everything gentle. Everything new.
They hadn’t put a name to anything. There was no word for it yet. It hadn’t been invented. But something about their companionship had struck the very chord of their existence, and the resonance of the harmony they made together felt strong enough to shake the very stars.
Or at least, Aziraphale thought it had.
“I…I’m sorry to hear that.” He squeezes out at last.
“Are you?” The demon wonders, peering at him curiously.
“I am.” He says quietly, refusing to meet their eyes.
“Well…stop it.” They say, their mouth twisting up into a frown. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”
“Of course.”
“…”
“…”
“…You’re still doing it, aren’t you?” They accuse after a few more moments of awkward silence, narrowing their eyes at him.
“You are not the only one who lost things in the Great War.” Aziraphale snaps.
The demon blinks at him, slightly taken aback.
“No…I suppose I’m not.” They huff, shaking out their wings a little. “And you have to remember all of it.”
“I do.”
“I guess I’m the lucky one, then.” They chuckle darkly. “First time that’s ever happened.”
“How do you know that you are the lucky one if you can’t remember anything?”
“Nnngh, well… That’s…a fair point.” They concede with another long breath. “I still remember the stars, though. That’s something.”
‘The stars, but not me,’ Aziraphale smiles bitterly.
“They are beautiful,” he notes instead.
“I think I might have made them,” The demon tells him, golden eyes scanning across a billion specks of light, as if trying to gather every last one, “Not all of them, mind you, but a fair few. Mine were further out, I think. Hard to find them from here.”
“Well, so long as you don’t cause any trouble, you can look for your stars as long as you wish,” Aziraphale says.
“I think…that they remind me of someone.”
Aizraphale freezes.
“Oh, really?” He asks, striving to sound casual even as his voice rises a full octave. “Who?”
“Hm, not sure,” they hum, mostly to themselves, “I feel like I’d know them if I saw them, though.”
Aziraphale’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, but the rest of his features remain remarkably unimpressed.   
“Would you indeed?”
“Nngh, pretty sure.” They pause for a moment to consider things. “Then again, might be best if I don’t. Probably lead to something messy. That’s the trouble when you don’t remember people. No way to know what the last thing you said to them was. Don’t much fancy the idea of some angel seeing my face and smiting me on sight because of some row I can’t remember.”
“You know that this person is an angel, then?” Aziraphale presses.
“Well, I know they must have been before, you know, all the fighting, anyway,” the demon shrugs, “We were all angels at one point, weren’t we? But I suppose they could have fallen, too. Doesn’t seem right, though. I think they would have found me already if they had.”
“Perhaps they were lost during the war?”
“…You might be right,” they agree, slowly, “But I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“I think…if they were completely gone, it would feel less…”
“Less what?”
“Less…everything.” They say, making a fluttering gesture with their hands to emphasize the point.
“I see,” Aziraphale says, even though he is not entirely certain that he does, “So, are you going to try looking for them? You star angel?”
They shake their head at him.
“Can’t see much point in it, really.” They tell him, a smile curling up the edges of their mouth that does not reach their eyes. “The angel they knew is gone, like I said. And so are my memories. I don’t even know what we were to each other. Best of friends. Worst of enemies. Annoying workmates. Doesn’t matter. It’s all gone. It’s too late to get any of it back, now. All that’s left is the stars.”
“All that’s left is the stars,” Aziraphale repeats quietly, a tremor running through his voice, “And even they will be fading out soon. It’s nearly dawn. Come on, we should both get back to the garden and go our separate ways before the humans wake up. Don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. We are enemies, after all.”
The demon grins at him, wide and sharp and toothy, spreading their wings wide before fluttering back down into the greenery.
“Aren’t we just?”
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digitalblogs23 · 3 months
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Surfing Sri Lanka: Where Waves Dance and Zen Retreats Bring Relaxation
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Welcome to the enchanting coastline of Sri Lanka, where adventure blends seamlessly with serenity. Beyond being a surfer's haven, this island is a retreat for the soul. Let's explore the vibrant world of surfing in Sri Lanka and discover the peaceful sanctuaries that make it an ideal destination for yoga retreats, including the renowned Talalla Retreat.
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Surfing Sri Lanka: The Art of Riding Waves
Sri Lanka's Diverse Coastline:
From the southern tip to the eastern shores, Sri Lanka is blessed with a stunning coastline, inviting surfers of all levels. Arugam Bay, with its long right-hand point breaks and laid-back ambiance, is a jewel in the crown of Sri Lanka's surf scene. The island's warm waters, consistent swells, and vibrant surf culture make it a true paradise for wave enthusiasts.
Arugam Bay – A Surfer's Paradise:
Nestled within a charming fishing village, Arugam Bay is not just a surf spot; it's an immersive experience. Beginners and seasoned surfers alike can revel in the thrill of the waves. With surf schools and board rentals, the bay ensures that everyone gets to ride the waves of this coastal gem.
Talalla Retreat: Where Serenity Meets the Sea
Escaping to Nature's Embrace:
In the southwest, Talalla Retreat emerges as a hidden gem that seamlessly weaves the beauty of coastal landscapes with the serenity of a yoga retreat. Surrounded by palm trees and overlooking beautiful beaches, Talalla is a haven for those seeking a harmonious balance of surf and serenity.
Immersive Talalla Experience:
At Talalla, the commitment to holistic well-being is evident. Open-air pavilions capture the soothing sea breeze, providing an ideal setting for yoga programs suitable for all levels. Accommodation options, from eco-friendly bamboo huts to luxurious villas, ensure a comfortable stay for every guest.
Harmony of Surf and Yoga:
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Finding peace of mind:
Sri Lanka's attraction lies in the seamless blend of surfing and yoga, and Talalla Retreat highlights this union. After an exhilarating surf session, the yoga mat becomes a sanctuary to stretch, breathe, and harmonize mind and body. It's a unique fusion, allowing visitors to conquer the waves and find inner balance amidst the peaceful landscape of Talalla.
Sunrise Surf and Sunset Asanas:
Picture yourself catching the perfect wave at sunrise and winding down with a rejuvenating yoga session at Talalla as the sun sets. This rhythmic cycle encapsulates a day in the life of a surfer immersed in Sri Lanka's yoga retreat culture, especially within the tranquil embrace of Talalla Retreat.
Practical Tips for Your Adventure:
Seasonal Wisdom: Plan your trip during the surf season (April to October for the east coast and November to March for the west coast) to make the most of the waves.
Packing Essentials: Don't forget your surf gear and comfortable yoga attire. Most retreats, including Talalla, provide yoga mats, but it's always good to double-check.
Explore Beyond the Waves: While surfing and yoga are the highlights, take time to get immersed into Sri Lanka's rich culture, visit ancient temples, and savor the diverse culinary delights.
Conclusion: A Tale of Waves and Wellness
Sri Lanka, with its rhythmic waves and serene retreats like Talalla, invites you on a journey of self-discovery and adventure. Whether riding the surf in Arugam Bay or finding your center in a yoga retreat, this island seamlessly blends the thrill of the ocean with the tranquility of mindful practice. Embark on a voyage that transcends the ordinary – where surfing and yoga unite, creating an unforgettable tapestry of physical exertion, mental clarity, and spiritual awakening. Sri Lanka awaits, inviting you to ride the waves and find solace in the embrace of its coastal beauty, with Talalla Retreat standing as a testament to the harmonious fusion of sea and serenity.
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pokimoko · 2 years
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Was playing some online Cards Against Humanity tonight, and got a card that made me think of my girl Laudna. 
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yoooespinosa · 3 years
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could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.
also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!
a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3
To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.
You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.
When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.
It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.
That only worked for so long.
When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.
So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.
He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.
How could you not fall in love with him.
With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.
It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.
Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.
Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.
You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.
"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.
"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"
Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."
Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?
"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.
"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.
"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."
You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.
"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.
"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.
The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.
You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.
"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.
"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.
Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."
You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.
You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.
The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.
It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.
Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.
Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.
A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.
Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.
And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.
You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.
And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.
The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.
You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.
"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.
You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.
"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.
"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.
You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."
He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.
Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.
Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.
He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.
He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.
Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.
He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.
So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?
Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?
Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.
Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.
More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.
It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.
But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.
Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.
A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.
And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.
Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.
But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.
Part 2
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tokimihyachi · 3 years
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Everyone always asks for the Captains and Magic Knight headcannons (nothing wrong with that - always love them) but you rarely ever see hcs for our favorite supporting/up&coming characters :(
Would you by chance please do ‘relationship headcanons’ + ‘how protective they are’ or ‘how they let their guard down’ for Mars, Patri/Patolli, Licht, and Liebe?
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warnings: may contain spoilers!
notes: awww, now that you mention it, it is true that i rarely see any of these four. and it’s alright fo u to request them! honestly love them a bunch. very underrated babies, indeed. 🥰 hope you like these! and sorry if their kinda long. i went all out because as you said, you hardly see their names here.
p.s. i simp for patri a lot, it just doesn’t seem like it kabcnsmd
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MARS | the closet simp
after the first stage of the experiment thing that happened, he never once approached or talked to you
you were aware of the sideffects, so you had to understand the situation
whenever you were with him he always had those instances of sudden relapses
he described his headaches as the worst
of course, you’d take care of him
he likes to swat your hand when u get touchy-touchy :((
but then the atmosphere shifts when you two are in the battlefield
he always finds himself eyeing your every move
when someone decides to attack you, you wouldn’t even notice because he’s always there, blocking their advances
accidentally get a scratch because of a spell that wasn’t even meant for you?
consider that person gone in a second ( a hardcore simp, wbk)
when he finally remembers things, he’d apologize everyday
seriously. he’s so guilty, that the first thing he say’s everytime the two of you meet is “im sorry”
he’d be more considerate, and his stares at you are no longer the cold hard ones, but the soft and loving kind
would randomly hug you
“hmm? is there something wrong, mars?”
he won’t reply, and instead he would hug you tighter while nuzzling his head on the crook of your neck
“i just missed you.”
“eh? but i’m with you everyday.”
“not an excuse not to miss you.”
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PATRI/ PATOLLI | the tsundere
as the number one human hater leader of the eye of the midnight sun, he has an image to protect, so, of course, his focus is always on his plans
you like staring at him
when he feels your eyes on him and he’d ask why, you’d only reply with nonesense such as: “you’re just pretty to watch”
he’d automatically furrow his brows at this
“you think this is all fun and games, y/n?” 
just the tone of his voice is enough to make you shiver in place
“whatever, pretty boy” and then you’d leave him by himself before he blows a fuse
he would never admit it, but your compliments always make his stomach all fuzzy
doesn’t know how to deal with emotions so he just releases it out as anger (poor boy :<<)
he always feels bad when you’re the one he vents out on
after the whole elf ordeal, he’d become more approachable
always looking out for you
the kind of guy to tug the side of your clothes so he can walk near the street and you would be safe on the sidewalk
a diehard fan of holding hands
he just loves the feeling of how well your hands fit with his
still gets flustered when you compliment him, but with all of the hate + rage + demon gone, he’s more open and would compliment you back
he revels in your attention
melts on the spot when you caress his cheeks and plat a soft kiss on his temple
the first time you two kissed, he just captured your lips as you were rambling about something
he couldn’t help it! you’re just too cute in his eyes!
rip to all the ogling eyes staring at you tho, in a blink of an eye they’re as good as gone
“oh, patri! where did you go to?”
“had to take care of a few pests, love. shall we go?”
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LICHT | the proud boyfie
mAN, is staring at this beautiful being even enough? if you only had painting magic like one of the other elves then maybe you would’ve made one already to honor such a perfect image
he’s very interested in the culture and “way of the humans”
you would think it’s weird at first, but then the way he smiles when learning new things is enough for those unsure thoughts to dissipate
so, of course you develop a crush first
you like daydreaming of him (oop, hopeless romantic spotted!)
he knows you’re looking at him with those loving eyes, but doesn’t say a word
what a sly, sly man
would tease you at first by always brushing your hands against each other when you walk
he’d act all innocent when you look back up at him, but in reality he’s laughing so hard at your impeccable personification of a tomato
but then you suddenly became close with all the other elves
especially rhya, cause ya’know, you relate with him being a lazy bum because you have your lethargic tendencies too
he’s not one to be jealous or anything
he just misses the attention you give him
sometimes, the elf kids would find him all slouched on tree with his chin resting on the open palm of his hand as he gazed at you two
definitely not jealous
but when you accidentally trip because of lil children running around and bruise your ankle slightly, he’d be there ASAP
would tend to your wounds and confess then and there
the bold type to kiss you on the spot after the confession (not that you mind sksksksks)
he likes to flaunt everything you do to everyone
sometimes the elves get tired of his incessant talks filled with “y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n…”
“i almost forgot, did you know that y/n unlocked a new spell yesterday?”
“WE KNOW. THAT’S THE 34TH TIME YOU SAID IT TODAY!”
what can you do, he’s just in love 🥰
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LIEBE | the explosive dolt & a closet yandere
since he’s bakugou’s counterpart a devil and all that, his first reaction was a loud, “HUHHH?” when you confessed to him
genuinely believes you’re messing with him
because of his past, he doesn’t really warm up to the idea nicely
(by explosive, i mean def not bakugou it as sudden outbursts of his reactions) 
he’s the kind of guy to distance himself after you confess 
after some time, he’d just randomly talk to you
but because you’re a stubborn, prideful person who knows their worth (as u should! 👑) you don’t pay as much attention to them
at this, he’d notice you’re always with asta
he’s irritated that you give the ash-blonde magicless fool more attention than him
whenever the two would spar, you’d only clap and cheer for asta, causing the said boy to blush profusely, whilst you smile cheekily
who could blame you tho, asta’s been the one who consoled you when liebe outright rejected you by not speaking to you for so long
he likes punching asta, “hey! what did you punch me for, you jerk!?”
“eh, your face seems punchable or something”
it’s not like liebe’s jealous or anything
always grunts loudly and makes noise when you and asta talk
“why did you throw the whole pole beside us?! we would’ve been hurt!”
“eh, the place looks like it needs an extra leg or something”
no. he’s not jealous
he would confront and talk to himself through a mirror, and ask his self what the hell is wrong with him and why is he acting this way towards you
you accidentally walk in the bathroom as they speak of their pent-up frustrations
cue awkward silence
but since it’s too much, he’d bluntly confess to you when he’s had enough of your closeness with asta
whenever he can, he’d always have you beside him or near him so he can keep a closer eye on him
he’s just afraid to be attached to someone only to lose them in the end like what happened to momma licita 🥺🤧
“liebe have you seen asta?”
“eh, he must’ve died or something.”
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fanmoose12 · 3 years
Text
catch me if you can
Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman
Genres: Mystery / Romance
Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.
Chapter 10/?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Сhapter 9
“Come with me, I’ll show it to you.”
Levi glared at the girl, feeling his eye twitch.
That girl, Ymir, he didn’t like her. She seemed cocky, overly confident and just, plain annoying. She also tried to shoot him and Hange. And she had interrupted their argument, which could have resulted in… some kind of consensus. Perhaps, even reconciliation. A revelation of some sorts. But now they were back to square one, and Hange returned to giving him long, mistrustful look.
And the fault, in Levi’s opinion, lied entirely on that irritating girl.
Levi didn’t like her, he didn’t trust her and he was adamantly against her becoming a part of their team.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the one calling the shots. Hange was and she was very much pro Ymir becoming a part of their team. And there was nothing he could do about it, except grit his teeth and put on the fiercest of his scowls.
“Where are you taking us?” he caught up with Ymir in a few, swift strides, reaching her and shoving the door she was going to open closed. Levi now stood right beside her, breathing down her neck. Her neck was all he could reach, because, to make matters even worse, the girl was also tall as a fucking tree.
That meant that she could easily look down on him, and that’s exactly what she did, as she stopped and turned around.
“My place,” she answered flippantly.
“Your place?” Hange blinked a couple of times, her mouth slightly open. The expression was endearing, but then again, there was little Levi didn’t find endearing about Hange. Focus, he told himself, forcing his attention back on the conversation. “So this apartment…”
“Oh hell no,” Ymir cringed. “I don’t live in this shithole. I used to live there, but now I simply give that address for the rich assholes I work for. In case some of them actually have heart and decide to pay the poor girl who lives in a basement more.”
“So you use that apartment to scam people?” he couldn’t help his accusing tone. The idea was smart, yes, and Levi was the first person to agree that rich people deserved to have their money taken away, but he was also petty and looking for a reason to dislike the girl even more.
He thought, even hoped that his biting remark would shame Ymir. But all he got in response was an elbow in his side from Hange, and a vicious, “And you’re any different?”
It wasn’t precisely shame that cursed through him after Hange’s words, but it was something similar, close to remorse.
“Who are you, by the way?” her greenish eyes bored into his, as Ymir loomed over him, hands on her hips. “I don’t remember seeing your detective’s badge.”
“Because I don’t have it,” craning his head upwards to scowl at the girl was starting to aggravate his neck muscles just a bit too much, but Levi didn’t allow this little nuisance to break his focus. “As for who I am… you can call me Levi.”
“I can call you Levi? Well, thank you for your kindness.” Ymir cackled, rather loudly. Levi winced at the volume and clenched his fists at the expression of pure mockery on her face. “But I need to know your full name.”
Levi refused to back down or reveal himself so easily. Especially, since… “You didn’t tell us your full name either.”
“Ymir is all I have,” she answered, crossing arms on her chest. In an instant, all signs of mischief were gone from her expression. Now she was staring at Levi levelly, her face guarded and strict. “Orphans don’t have the pleasure of receiving a surname.”
“Oh.”
The soft, quiet sound came from Hange. Levi didn’t need to look away from Ymir to see that Hange was looking at the girl with mix of sadness and compassion. As ready as he was to loathe the insolent brat, he was feeling something similar, a painful clench of his heart that reminded him of his biggest weakness – his unreasoned kindness and desire to help the ones who need it.
Recently, his kindness led him to a fist-fight in the bar. Levi could only guess where this fault of his would bring him this time.
“I don’t need your pity,” Ymir huffed, seeing the sudden change in Levi’s eyes. “What I need is your full name.”
God, she was so tenacious, like a piranha that had latched itself on his leg. He sighed, surrendering to his fate. It seemed like he had no other choice. So keeping his eyes firmly locked on Ymir's, he said, “I’m Levi. Levi Ackerman.”
As soon as these words had left his mouth, Levi found himself pressed against the front door with Ymir once again looming over him. With movement almost too quick for him to catch, Ymir had taken a knife out of the inside pocket of her leather jacket. Now that very same knife was held tightly in her hand, and its edge was pressed threateningly to his stomach.
Hell, how many weapons she had on her?
“Ackerman?” she hissed, her green eyes shooting fire. The knife moved an inch closer to him. “The same Ackerman that had kidnapped Historia?”
It took him a moment too long to get his wits back. He wasn’t threatened with a knife every day of his life, after all. And, by the time, his composure had returned and he was ready to retaliate, Hange decided to take matters in her hands.
Quite literally.
She took Ymir’s wrist and squeezed it tightly, eliciting a pained groan from her. The hold she had on the knife loosened, and it fell down with a resounding sound, barely missing the toe of Levi’s boot.
“We don’t do violence here,” Hange said, her voice tight. “And no, he isn’t the same Ackerman. His uncle is the one who had taken Historia.”
“So you knew about this!” yanking her wrist out of Hange’s hold and cradling it protectively to her chest, Ymir shifted her gaze, turning her anger on her.
“I did,” Hange confirmed. “But Levi knows nothing about his uncle’s crimes.”
Levi stared at Hange wide-eyed, not quite believing what was happening right in front of his eyes. Hange was defending him? She had just protected him from Ymir?
He wasn’t the only who was openly gaping at her, Ymir seemed to have troubles believing Hange was serious as well.
“So you trust him? You, a police officer, trust him?”
“Maybe, trust is not quite the right word,” Hange chuckled, her serious demeanor shifting to present a bashful grin. “But I believe him,” despite the relaxed expression, her voice was filled with conviction. She did believe him, Levi realized, Hange wasn’t simply putting on a show. The revelation caught him off guard. It also made him recall their recent argument. Perhaps, not everything was lost? “We may be chasing different goals, but I believe it will lead to the same outcome.”
“And if working with me goes against all of your morals,” Levi cut in, reverting Ymir’s attention to himself. “Then we should go our separate ways. The tensions,” he chanced a glanced at Hange, surprised to find that she was actually looking back at him. “Are already high. We don’t need any more infighting.”
Ymir considered them both for a moment, her gaze switching from Levi to Hange. Worrying her lip between her teeth, she appeared deep in thought.
“Fine,” she conceded at last. “It seems like I have no choice but to work with you.”
“Want to save Historia that much, eh?” Hange wiggled her eyebrows in an obscenely ridiculous way. Levi couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Ymir seemed to have the same reaction to her antics.
“I owe her. She's in this mess because of me,” she explained, rather gruffly. “And,” a smirk pulled on her lips, reminding Levi that Ymir was an irritating brat who had attempted to shot him, and then had the gall to threaten him with a knife. “She is also extremely cute.”
“Ah, she’s adorable like a princess!” Hange agreed with a wide smile. Despite Ymir being nothing short of nuisance just a minute ago, Hange had now her arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, talking with her animatedly.
The two of them walked out of the apartment together, still whispering amongst each other. They seemed to be best friends already, which left Levi feeling oddly neglected.
Gods, just how bad did he have it for Hange?
However, he wasn’t feeling abandoned for too long. As soon as they exited the apartment complex, and Ymir started leading them to the aforementioned her place, Hange left her side and fell in step with Levi.
“Hey,” she started, keeping her eyes locked on the horizon. It showed a pretty sight of the setting sun and the warm glow it emanated, but Hange didn’t seem too interested in watching the light reflected in the windows. She simply appeared determined not to meet his eyes. “During your little clash with Ymir… she didn’t hurt you or something?”
Was it his wishful thinking, or did he actually hear hints of concern in her voice? Whatever it was, it sent an exciting pulse through his heart.
“I’m fine. You intervened just in time. By the way… thanks for that.”
Levi cringed at his own awkwardness. He usually wasn’t that clumsy, clumsiness was a big no in his line of work, but Hange excelled at bringing out that part of him. She made him feel so many contrasting emotions that it was hard to navigate through all of them. Sometimes he felt like he was lost in it, blindly stumbling through the workings of his own heart.
“Well, I couldn’t allow our only way to get to Kenny Ackerman get stabbed, could I?”
Of course, Hange was thinking about the case. That was understandable, logical, expected. And whatever concern he had caught in her voice, it was probably directly related to their case.
Their case, he had to focus on it.
You’re here for Kenny, he reminded himself for the nth time. Kenny, not Hange and the weird feeling she provoked in him.
Kenny, Kenny, Kenny, he kept repeating to himself like a mantra. But with Hange still so close to him, his focus was gradually slipping.
Thankfully, Ymir provided an excellent distraction when she stopped them in front of the shadiest bar Levi had ever laid his eyes on. And, considering the fact that he had grown up in the slams and had just returned from the city, where he himself was working in a shady bar with an awful boss, that was saying a lot.
“That’s your place?” he asked in his most unimpressed voice. “You live in a bar?”
“I work at the bar. And I live right above it. And since my shift starts in less than half an hour,” Ymir shrugged. “I decided to mix business with pleasure.”
“Works for me,” Hange hummed, pushing past Levi to get to the entrance. “What floor your apartment is?”
“Third, the first one on the left.”
“Are you even allowed to work at the bar?” Levi looked critically at Ymir. “I thought you were a teenager.”
“Are you allowed to drink?” Ymir easily parried. “I thought you were a kid.”
Brats and their loud mouths, there was nothing that irritated Levi more. Listening to Ymir’s cackling, he could only grit his teeth. His scowl darkened even more, when he saw Hange high-fiving the insolent girl.
“I’m glad you’re starting to get along,” she chuckled, patting Levi and Ymir on their shoulders. “But let’s move on, there is a girl that needs to be saved.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Ymir mumbled, leading them upstairs.
___
Ymir’s apartment turned out to be a kitchen and a single room that simultaneously served as a bedroom, a study and a living room. In the center stood an old dusty couch with clothes thrown all around it, next to it was a rickety coffee table with a laptop on it, and on the opposite wall, there was…
Wow. So Ymir was that serious about finding Historia?
The wall was covered with newspapers clippings and photos. And the center of it all was the photo of Historia, with various strings attached to it.
“So…” Hange awkwardly shuffled to take a better look at it. “Care to explain all of it?”
“Sure,” Ymir nodded. “But it might take a while. Do you want something to drink?”
“Do you have tea?” Levi asked, subconsciously knowing the answer already.
“Nope, only beer.”
“I’ll have a beer, please,” Hange smiled, and then, to Levi’s horror, she took out the fucking notebook. He was getting sick of it.
Ymir returned from the kitchen, holding three bottles of beer. She handed one to Hange, then turned to Levi, looking him up and down. Levi didn’t like where this was going.
“Do you have an ID, sir?” she asked in the most mocking, annoying voice Levi had ever heard. And he thought that Kenny was the most irritating person in this world. Ymir was proving him seriously wrong.
And Hange’s delighted laugher wasn’t making him feel any better.
“Fuck off,” he snapped, snatching the bottle from her.
“Alright, let’s start,” Ymir waited for Hange to settle on a couch. Then she opened her bottle and pointed it at the photo of Historia. “So you know that Krista Lenz isn’t her real name, yes?”
“Yep,” Hange confirmed.
“And that her father,” Ymir trailed the bottle to the side, following the string to the photo of middle-aged man. “Is Rod Reiss.”
“We… recently found about it.”
“And since an Ackerman is sitting right next to you, I’m assuming you know about Kenny Ackerman as well?”
Before nodding, Hange stole a quick glance at Levi. She turned away before Levi could decipher the meaning of it.
“And you really don’t know where he is?” Ymir directed her question at Levi. “Isn’t he your uncle or something?”
“He is my uncle.” Levi stared at the wall, fixing his eyes on the place where Kenny’s photo should have been. But, apparently, Ymir couldn’t find it, so instead there was a white square with his name written on it. Still, the fact that she managed to find that much information was already an astonishing achievement. It actually made Levi curious… “Where did you get his name?”
As far as Levi was aware, Kenny was obsessively secretive. He might appear carefree and careless, but that was just a façade. He wouldn’t survive for as long as he did if he hadn’t shrouded his identity in the thick fog of secret. The only mistake of his that Levi could remember was his fuck up with Traute, and she was probably already dealt with, in one way or another. So how did a girl find out about him?
“It wasn’t all that hard,” Ymir flippantly admitted. “I was spying on Reiss, and I once saw him talk with Ackerman. It didn’t take a genius to realize everything else. By the way,” she levelled Levi with a hard look. “Thanks for killing my boss. Because of that, I had to return to working at this shitty bar.”
Levi shrugged. He could say that technically he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger and killed that guy. But Ymir didn’t seem too interested in technicalities.
“If you know about Kenny,” Hange began, biting at her pen. “Then do you know why he had taken Historia?”
Ymir shook her head, shuttering Levi’s hope to easily find the answer to the question ‘what the fuck was Kenny doing’. “I guess he had some fallout with Reiss and decided to use Historia as a leverae. And that brings me to my next point,” the beer bottle travelled upwards, to the photo of a young woman with long black hair. “What do you know about Frieda Reiss?”
“Not much,” Hange admitted after studying the photo for a several moments. “She is Reiss’ eldest daughter, isn’t she? And she’s an aspiring artist, if the memory serves me right.”
“Well, you already know more than I expected. Yes, Frieda is Reiss’ daughter, which makes her Historia’s half-sister.”
“And that’s important how?” Levi asked, smoothly standing up in guise of taking a closer look at Ymir’s crazy wall.
He walked up to it, squinted at the various scribblings, and then moved closer to the desk that stood by the window. He leaned against it, pretending to listen to Ymir and Hange’s conversation.
“Out of all of Reiss’ family, Frieda is the only who gives a damn about Historia. If we want to find out about Historia’s whereabouts, she’s our best bet.”
“You think she knows something?” Hange moved slightly forward, in an attempt to take a closer look at the wall and Frieda’s photo on it. “You talked with her?”
Ymir scrunched her nose, making an extremely displeased face. She took a large swing from the bottle, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. “She doesn’t want to talk with me. We had an argument of sorts.”
“An argument…” Hange frowned. “About what?”
While Ymir was busy forming an adequate explanation, Levi discreetly opened the top drawer of her desk.
Once a thief, forever a thief, that was what Hange had told him? No point in going against his own nature then, Levi thought, as he flipped through the contents of the drawer. Inside there were photos, a lot of photos. A dozen, if not even more. They varied in foreshortening, angle, color palette. And yet the subject remained the same.
It was Historia.
There was a picture of Historia from across the street, enjoying a book inside the café. And a picture of Historia, sitting on a bench in the park and eating an ice-cream. There was Historia smiling, Historia frowning, Historia laughing, Historia… oh. So Ymir got that close to the girl she was supposed to be spying on?
Hiding the picture of two girls kissing, Levi closed the drawer and returned his attention to the conversation on hand.
“I already told you Frieda cares about Historia. And when she found out that I was spying on her father, and, subsequently on Historia too, well,” Ymir ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s just say she wasn’t too happy about it.”
“But?” Hange prompted, notebook clenched tightly in her hand. “You think that Frieda knows something?”
“Reiss definitely knows something, I’m sure Ackerman has contacted him with some kind of ransom note.”
“And Reiss didn’t go to the police, because he doesn’t want the world to know about his connection to Historia.”
“Exactly,” Ymir confirmed. “And if there was actually some communication between him and Ackerman, Frieda is the only who knows about it. She’s in on everything her father is doing.”
“But she’s the daughter of an influential politician and she’s a famous artist,” Hange bit at her thumb, her frown deepening. “How the heck we can get her to talk? Especially if her father doesn’t want to involve the police.”
Ymir grinned. “I’m glad you asked.”
Oh no. Levi didn’t like that smile or that tone. An awful offer was going to be made to them. Or, even worse, that would be a demand.
With his stomach sinking, he sighed and prepared for the worst.
Ymir took a step to the side, revealing the last part of puzzle. It was a clipping from a newspaper article that talked about… Levi squinted… an upcoming gala that was going to be held at the Reiss’ mansion. Great.
“Frieda is the one who organizes the gala and she is the one who will be hosting it,” Ymir explained. “Her father won’t be here, and that will give you an opportunity to get closer to her.”
“But won’t there be a security? How can we get in?” Hange asked. “And how will we convince her to share the information with us?”
“I can obtain two tickets for you. As for convincing Frieda… I don’t think she’ll need much of it. She wants to save her sister, just say you’re from police and she’ll probably share everything she knows.”
“And what if she doesn’t want to talk to us? What if she orders the guards to throw us out? Too many unknowns for this to effectively work out. I say the plan is too risky,” Levi concluded, crossing hands on his chest.
“But we don’t really lose anything,” Hange countered. “It’s a gamble.”
“It’s a waste of time.” Levi argued.
“It won’t be a waste of time with you,” Ymir said. “If you don’t succeed with talking to Frieda, then…” she wiggled her eyebrows, looking at Levi.
Hange shot up to her feet. “Oh no. No, no, no. No! I can’t allow you to break inside and snoop around. It’s Reiss’ mansion! If we get caught, I’ll get skinned alive.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Hange,” Levi rolled his eyes. Now that Ymir mentioned the idea of snooping around, he liked the plan a lot more. “We’ve already broken into someone’s apartment, and nothing bad happened.”
“We almost got shot at,” Hange reminded him through the gritted teeth.
“Then don’t get caught,” Ymir advised. “Ackermans were never caught, right? And you have Ackerman with you. I’m sure,” there it was again, that tiny, irritating smirk. “He’ll do his best to protect you.”
“Fine,” Hange ruffled her hair, looking absolutely frantic. She lifted the bottle of beer to her lips, downing half of it in one go. “Fine, fine, we’ll do it your way. But… I don’t know what to wear to this kind of event.”
“Don’t worry,” Ymir gave her a thorough once-over, going from the head to toe and focusing on Hange’s long legs, thin waist and broad shoulders. She licked her lips. “I’ll find something for you.”
“And me?” Levi asked, glaring at the girl who was ogling Hange so shamelessly. “Do you have something for me?”
“You’re a legendary thief,” Ymir scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. “Steal a suit for yourself or something.”
Fuck, how he hated the annoying brats. There was nothing worse than them.
“If we have planned everything out,” Ymir finished her beer and threw the bottle in the trashcan that, to Levi’s disgust, was already overwhelmed with bottles and empty pizza boxes. “Then I need to go. My shift starts in just few minutes. If you need something else, you can use my laptop. There is a rough blueprint of Reiss’ mansion there.”
“How did you manage to get inside?” Hange said, already taking the laptop in her hands.
Ymir winked, the insufferable smirk returning. “Let’s just say that I’m excellent at getting inside ladies' private chambers.”
The horrible innuendo was bad enough on its own, but Hange’s loud laughter made it much, much worse. Levi could only roll his eyes and scoff, apparently, he was destined to be surrounded by annoying people with terrible jokes.
Well, at least, Hange didn’t look so tense anymore. Perhaps, Ymir’s presence was a buffer between the tensions that had been rising all day. If so, Levi was glad to have the girl around, despite tasteless innuendos and all.
“There is left over pizza in the refrigerator and there is booze under the counter if you need it.”
“And you?” Hange turned to Levi. “I can’t exactly let you go home, but…”
“He can go with me,” Ymir offered. “I’ll pour him a drink, keep an eye so he won’t sneak away.”
Spend the evening with Hange or with the brat who would probably continue to mercilessly mock him, Levi knew what option he would choose, but… he wasn’t the one calling the shots.
Hange was.
“Excellent!” she gave Ymir thumbs up and a brilliant smile. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
With that Ymir grabbed him by the elbow and started dragging him downstairs. Levi could only sigh and surrender.
___
“So,” Ymir poured a shot of whiskey and handed it to him, leaning against the counter and studying his face. The unnatural dark red lighting of the bar made her look even more imposing. The irritating smirk was already in place, playing on her thin lips. “What is happening between you and detective badass?”
Color rushed to his cheeks, and Levi thanked the lighting for hiding the unfortunate reaction.
“Nothing,” he mumbled into his drink.
“Nothing? So what about that argument I’ve overheard and the two of you rolling around on the floor of my apartment? You call that nothing?”
“Eavesdropping is bad,” Levi said, but, despite the biting tone, he lowered his head even further down. That was a topic he really didn’t want to discuss. Especially, with a girl he met just an hour ago. “And we weren’t rolling around, I saved Hange from getting shot.”
“I dig up dirty secrets for a living. Eavesdropping is my job. And you could have just shoved her aside, not jump onto her, you know?”
“Shut up,” he put the glass of whiskey up to his lips, finishing it in one large gulp. The bitter, burning liquid travelled down his throat, making him shiver. He pushed the glass back to Ymir. “Another one.”
“Ah ah,” she wiggled her finger. “I won’t let you have another drink until you tell me what the heck is going between you two.”
“Why are so interested in it?”
Ymir looked around the bar. There was just a couple of customers inside, all of them slowly nursing their drinks and seemingly uninterested in ordering something else. As her eyes shifted from one corner to another, Ymir shrugged. “It’s a slow night. And I have a feeling something juicy has transpired.”
“Alright, I’ll tell,” after all, what the heck he was losing? His dignity? He bid goodbye to it a long time ago. Besides, there was something he wanted to get out of Ymir as well. “But in exchange you’ll tell me what happened between you and Historia.”
“Nothing,” was probably what Ymir wanted to exclaim. Her widened eyes and scandalized expression were definitely screaming that. But Levi raised a hand before she could even start denying his claim.
“I found the pictures inside your desk.”
If he thought that Ymir’s face showed disbelief and anger before, now there was pure rage. “Going through other people’s stuff is bad,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed into slits.
“I’m a thief,” Levi graciously accepted the drink she prepared to him. “Going through other people’s stuff is my job.”
“Has anyone told you how irritating you are?”
“Has anyone told you?”
Looming over him with hands on her hips, Ymir stared down at him. Levi stared back, putting the darkest of his glares.
Ymir was the first one to surrender, breaking the eye contact with a low chuckle. “Alright, alright, we’re both assholes.”
“That we are,” he agreed, taking another sip from his glass. He put it back down softly, the ice cubes clinking together. “So what’s the deal between you and Historia?”
Ymir took a deep sigh and grabbed the closest glass to her, starting to mindlessly clean it with a rag. The silence stretched, the sounds of tense rubbing of the glass taking over. Levi wanted to repeat his question, but then— Ymir finally gathered enough courage to start talking.
“So you already know that I was supposed to spy on Historia. Reiss had an enemy in the parliament that wanted to expose his secret daughter, and, well,” she shook her head and laughed, the sound devoid of mirth but filled with bitterness. “Whatever pays the bills, right? So I found that girl, took a few photos and then I was asked to bring a DNA sample, to make sure that she really is Reiss’ daughter and it isn’t just a rumor, created by his former maid. I broke inside her room at campus, took a hair out of the hairbrush, and I was already leaving when some clumsy idiot bumped into me and I fell down the stairs. And that how I actually met Historia. Unaware that moments ago I was looking through her things, she brought me to her room and forcefully bandaged my sprained ankle.”
“And that’s it? You literally fell for her?” the story made him chuckle. It also made him remember a similar story – a story about bumping into someone on the street, about falling in more ways than just one.
“Well, Historia made sure to call and text me every day for the entirety of three weeks, because she read somewhere that it takes three weeks for the ankle sprain to heal completely. She also personally checked up on me a couple of times, although I’m not even sure if my ankle was actually sprained. But,” Ymir rubbed the back of her neck, and, perhaps, it was the treacherous lightning, but it looked like she was blushing. “I couldn’t exactly say no to a cute girl like this, you know?”
“And? Did she find out who you actually are?”
“No. But her sister did. I don’t know if Historia knows who Frieda truly is, and I don’t know why Frieda is so obsessed with her, but she found me and threatened to use her father’s connections to throw me in jail. I grew up on a street, so there was a lot of illegal stuff I did, and… I couldn’t exactly risk it. I wanted to sneak into Historia’s dorm, you know, have, at least some kind of a goodbye… but when I got inside, she wasn’t there. The next day I found that she was kidnapped.”
Silence fell over them. What was there to say? Tell that he felt sorry for her? That he knew just how shitty she was feeling right now?
Nothing he could say would make Ymir feel better.
“What about you then? What did you do to make our fierce detective glare at you so much?”
“She was the lead detective investigating out heists. And…”
“Ohh,” Ymir sounded intrigued. “So you seduced her? To get the information out of her? But then fell for her along the way?”
“No. I just fell. Bumped into four-eyes on the street and dropped all of my groceries, so she decided to make it up for me. It kinda went up from there.”
“Oh,” the interest disappeared from her voice completely. “And what happened next?”
“And then she got really close to catching us, and I decided to run away, and then my uncle shot her, and then,” Levi spat bitterly, drowning his misery with another mouthful of whiskey. “And then her boss found out who I really am and I left before I could bid her an actual goodbye. I moved to another part of the world, found myself a job, in a bar, if you would believe me, and then Hange found me and demanded I come back to help her catch my uncle.”
“Ow, that’s rough, dude.” Ymir refilled his glass. “Did you the two of you at least bang?”
“What!” Levi was sure his face was as a tomato. He glared fiercely at the girl, desperately trying to mask his embarrassment and save at least some remnants of his dignity.
“Don’t deny that you haven’t thought about it,” she taunted, grinning wildly, victoriously, like a predator who had just stumbled upon an easy prey. Fucking piranha. “Those long legs and wide shoulders, I bet she has abs too, and have you seen that ass, I’d—”
“Shut up,” Levi growled, closing his eyes to get that image of Hange out of his head. Hange did have a very nice body, he’d have to be blind not to see that, but that’s— that wasn’t the reason why he liked her, and even if he did think about her in that way – which, of course, he absolutely didn’t – Ymir was still the last person on Earth he’d like to discuss that with. Well, maybe, Kenny was the last person he’d discuss that with, but Ymir was definitely near the bottom of that list as well. “I’ve never, ever, thought about me and Hange in that way.”
“Well, well, someone is repressed,” Ymir didn’t take mercy on him, her voice becoming even more aggravating. “It’s not heathy for a man your age, you know? You need to learn how to relax, for example, you can sit in the dark room, think long and hard about hot detectives, imagine Hange arresting you, handcuffing you and then—”
Jesus Christ. Levi didn’t think it was possible for his cheeks to feel that hot. They were just as hot as—
Fuck, even his subconscious was working against him.
Ymir was laughing openly now, doubled over the counter and heaving breathlessly. “Man, you should have seen your face, it’s so easy to mess with you.”
“You’re a nuisance, I can’t even begin to understand how your Historia could have fallen for you.”
“The same applies to you, midget. How could someone as hot as detective Hange end up with a crush on you of all people?”
“Hange is too trustworthy and open,” Levi shrugged.
“And Historia is too kind and naïve.” Ymir agreed with a smile that looked too soft on the face of the girl who just minutes ago was mocking him mercilessly. “So what, it was their shortcomings that let us meet them?”
“Or it was fate. Or just dumb luck.”
Ymir grabbed a glass from the behind her, poured whiskey in it and raised it up. “To their shortcomings then. Or fate and dumb luck.”
Levi chuckled, as he brought his glass to hers. Yeah, he could drink for that.
Their glasses clinked, and Ymir’s expression changed, ever so slightly. The grin was still there, but it wasn’t as annoying as it was before. Now, it almost looked friendly. Levi felt his own lips curl up in a smile. Brats, perhaps, they weren’t that terrible after all.
“I’ll go out for a smoke,” he told Ymir, patting his jacket for a cigarette pack. “If four-eyes shows up…”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her that you just went out, don’t worry. I’m not that much of a nuisance,” she winked at him, following this gesture with another fit of boisterous laughter.
Levi rolled his eyes at the display and hurried to the exit.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief when the chill, night air greeted him. The bars usually didn’t smell all that great, and this one wasn’t an exception. The stench of brewery and the general stuffiness of these places were the main reason why Levi preferred to drink at home. He was never one for the company anyway, and his general disgust of bars only added to his alienation.
Besides, he had a long, long day after a long and tiring flight. It was the first time he was left alone ever since he had walked off the plane, and Levi decided to relish that moment, however short it may be.
He lighted up the cigarette and put it to his lips, deeply inhaling the fresh minty smoke.
Fuck… what a day. And it wasn’t even finished yet.
Levi wondered what was going to happen next, was Hange serious about keeping watch on him? If so, how was she planning to go about it? Make him stay at her apartment? The idea wasn’t exactly opposing to him, especially after seeing the mess that Kenny made of their place.
And, Kenny, what a bastard. Couldn’t he at least try to make looking for him easier? It was just one day, and Levi was positively spent. He felt like he could sleep for millennia.
And tomorrow was not going to be any better, with this whole gala shit. He’d be lucky if next evening wouldn’t end up with him sent in prison by Reiss.
However, he wasn’t going to be the only one taking that risk. Hange was going with him, and if she was caught, she could very well lose her job. If that possibility didn’t scare Hange, he wouldn’t let it scare him as well.
Still… a lot of things could go wrong tomorrow. He had to be ready to tackle at least some of them.
With another weary sigh, Levi took another drag of the cigarette, hoping the tobacco would provide a small amount of comfort. Coupled with all the whiskey he had drunk, the cigarette was doing its job fairly well until—
Until the front door of the bar had opened and Hange had walked out, her eyes immediately zooning in on him.
“Levi!”
She called him Levi, not Ackerman, and she did so with a wide, genuinely happy smile instead of an angry glare. She leaned against the wall next to him, bumping their shoulders merrily, and Levi was ready to triumph but then he caught the stench coming from Hange and saw her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.
So she was drunk. Excellent, just what he needed to end that already horrible day.
“Hange,” he pinched the bridge of his, setting the cigarette aside. Perhaps, he just imagined it. Perhaps, Hange wasn’t actually drunk and her behavior had a completely logical explanation. “Hange, are you alright?”
“Um, sure,” she blinked sleepily, pressing closer to him. She was just a breath away of leaning fully against him. Feeling his heart pound in his chest, Levi tried to stay as still as possible, keeping the contact between them as minimal as he could. His mind decided to suddenly remind him of every stupid thing Ymir had told to him today. Levi never felt so betrayed by his own subconscious. “I’m just tired and a little hungry, and I think I had too much of the rum I found under the counter in Ymir’s apartment.”
And before Levi could react, before he could, maybe, scold Hange for this act of recklessness, she kicked the ground underneath him once again.
“Hey, can I have it?” she pointed to his cigarette, already reaching to it.
Moving the hand with cigarette away from Hange, Levi hesitated. On one hand, smoking could make her feel that much worse, on the other, she could just as well start arguing with him, and that was the last thing he needed today. So he settled on a middle ground.
“You can have one drag,” he allowed, handing her a cigarette.
But Hange didn’t take the cigarette from his hand. Instead, she slightly opened her mouth, as though in invitation.
Fucking hell. Was drunk Hange always like this?
Slowly, doing his best to ignore the trembling in his hands, he lifted the cigarette to her lips. Hange closed her mouth around it, her eyes fluttered shut as she started to inhale the smoke.
Levi watched her, completely transfixed, he never thought that someone could be that attractive while smoking, but here he was…
He was standing close to Hange, so close that he could see every individual eyelash, a small mole at the side of her cheek, the barely visible freckles on her nose, the little scar on her forehead. Her face was illuminated by the blue flickering sign with the name of the bar. The unnatural lighting made her seem even more surreal.
“Fuck!”
The illusion was broken abruptly, when Hange pushed him away and doubled down, coughing fit wracking through her body.
“Shit!” she croaked, in between the coughs. “I didn’t know that thing would be so strong, it’s so—”
“Wait.” Levi was so confused. “You’ve never smoked before?”
“No.”
God, what an insufferable person.
“Then why the hell you’ve asked for my cigarette?”
“Don’t know!” Hange straightened up, spreading her hands. The frantic motion made her stagger. Levi caught her by the elbow before she fell. “I just thought it would feel good. But it didn’t!”
“Idiot.” Levi scoffed. He winced when he realized that there was too much fondness in his tone.
“I’m just tired,” Hange sighed, dropping her shoulders and bending her knees to slide lower off the wall. “I deserve a break, don’t I? I didn’t have one in so long…”
Levi felt like he knew the answer to his question already. Yet, he still asked. “When was the last time you took a break?”
“When you left. As soon as I was discharged from the hospital, I threw myself into my work.”
Ouch. That was probably his fault.
He was contemplating what answer wouldn’t make him sound like an asshole while simultaneously keeping in secret just how much he had missed her during all the months he was gone, when he felt something warm touch his cheek.
He lifted his eyes from the grey, cracked asphalt and—
Cigarette fell from between his fingers.
Hange was closer than she was before, and her palm was resting on his cheek, absentmindedly caressing his skin.
“That thing…” with a feather light touch of her thumb, she traced the already healing cut on his cheek. “Where did you get this?”
“This…” fuck, why Hange’s proximity made it so hard for him to think? His thoughts were sluggish as ever, the neurons reacting with the pace as slow as it was humanly possible. With more effort than he was willing to admit, Levi forced himself to focus. “Would you believe it if I say that I received this thing while defending three teenagers from the local gangsters?”
Hange chuckled, the sound seemed warm enough to shield Levi even from the harshest winds of winter. “That depends… would you believe that, despite everything, a part of me is actually glad that you came back?”
Oh. Levi drew a sharp breath. Whatever he had expected Hange to say, this wasn’t it.
But Hange was drunk, he reminded himself. Hange was drunk and chances were she probably wouldn’t remember this conversation at all. He could take some of the weight off his chest and, perhaps, Hange would be none the wiser.
So he laid his hand on top of Hange’s, and said, “Only if you would believe that I wish I didn’t hurt you. That was never my intention. And I also wish we could have gone on that skating rink date you’ve promised me.”
He expected Hange to lash out. He expected her to push him away and start calling him names. He expected literally anything else but not for Hange starting to recite Shakespeare.
“Oh Romeo, Romeo!” with all the dramatics of the drunken person, she fell against him, a hand flying to her forehead. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name!”
“Four-eyes?”
“Sorry,” she laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. Her head laying on his shoulder, she looked up, her eyes sparkling. “It just… It kinda fits, don’t you think? You know if you weren’t Montecchi and I wasn’t Capuletti, perhaps then…”
Perhaps. And, oh, how Levi wished that ‘perhaps’ turned into ‘possibly’ and into actual truth. But— they were who they were, for the better or worse.
And entertaining what ifs would only make both of them more miserable. So before he did something stupid, like press his lips to Hange and taste that horrible rum she was drinking, Levi decided to change the course and the mood of their conversation. He playfully flicked her forehead and pushed her away from him. “I didn’t know that police officers could recite Shakespeare from the top of their head.”
“No one believes me,” Hange whispered with a naughty smile. “But I was a member of the drama club in high school.”
“Did you play Juliette?”
“No, I was Romeo, but,” she winked. “I had a very pretty Juliette.”
“Of course, you had,” Levi had no doubts about it. He did, however, have a regret that he wasn’t there to witness it. Watch lanky teenage Hange jump around the stage, shouting about her love to Juliet and hatred of Capuletti in the most melodramatic fashion possible? What was better than it? “Now, c’mon,” he gently pushed her forward, making sure she didn’t stumble and fall. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold.”
“Yeah, let’s—”
Levi’s hand was hovering above her shoulder, but when Hange touched the side of her face and started to slowly crane towards the ground, he had to wrap his fingers firmly around her elbow. With eyes widening in fear, he watched how Hange’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fell limply against his side.
“Hange!” he shook her, but received no answer. His blood started to rapidly turn into ice. “Hange,” he called again, more softly. She didn’t even stir.
Fuck, was she drunk enough to black out? Or did she faint because of the fatigue? Or was it the combination of the two?
Whatever was the case, but he had to, at least, bring Hange back inside the bar. Keeping his hand on her waist, Levi carefully opened the front door and stumbled inside.
All eyes were on him as soon as he walked in. And no one’s stare was as surprised as Ymir’s.
“What the fuck did you do to her?”
“Your fucking fault,” he gritted through his teeth, as he approached the bar counter and pushed Hange on one of the chairs. “She drank too much while she was working.”
“Shit. And what are you going to do now?”
He didn’t have a lot of options. He could let Hange stay with Ymir, he could let Hange crush at his place, or… he could bring her to her own apartment.
The third option was probably the one Hange would be most comfortable with, but there was a tiny problem with it – he didn’t know where she lived.
“She left her bag here while she went outside to find you,” Ymir said, producing the said bag from behind the counter. “Her phone was blowing out all this time, maybe, you should call back? Perhaps, a friend will come to pick her up?”
Levi swallowed. He had a feeling that he knew what friend was calling Hange so insistently. With dread settling in, he took the bag from Ymir’s hands and fished out the phone.
The screen lighted up, showing five missed calls from – surprise, surprise - Erwin.
Fuck, just as he had expected. Just what he was fearful of.
With his insides twisting in a knot, Levi stared at Erwin’s photo, at his relaxed and smiling face. Levi remembered him a little differently. He remembered him as cunning, ruthless and calculating. Their encounter at the precinct was still fresh in Levi’s mind. His words, spoken quietly but with so much authority, were still ringing in his ears.
Leave this city, Levi Ackerman, and don't come back. Stop toying with Hange's feelings and don’t you dare contact her ever again.
As it was evident from the photo Hange chose for him, she saw a very different version of Erwin Smith. She saw him as her caring and kind boss. Levi doubted that Erwin would show the same side of himself to him.
“Would you like to make that call?” he handed the phone to Ymir.
She pushed it back with a short laugh. “I have a feeling that her friend is cop, so, no, I’m not very eager to become his acquaintance.”
Shit. So he had to do it. Fuck, Levi didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to.
But he had to do it, for Hange.
That last thought gave him enough courage to unlock the phone and dial the number. He closed his eyes tightly as soon as he did, his stomach was falling lower and lower with each passing beep.
On the third one, his call was answered.
“Hange?” well, now his voice definitely didn’t sound as cold and strict as it did during their last conversation. Right now, Captain Erwin Smith sounded almost frantic. “Hange, where are you? Why didn’t you pick up? I’ve been calling you—”
“Erm,” Levi cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Honestly, he’d rather take on ten more gangsters from Signapore, or have his leg ripped out than continue this conversation. “It’s not Hange.”
“Ackerman.” And there it was, that cold, emotionless tone. Awesome. But now… there was more urgency to it. And much more anger. “Where is Hange? What did you do to her? If you laid even a finger—”
“Jesus, calm the fuck down. Hange is fine.” Except that she wasn’t. Her eyes were still closed as she sat slumped in a chair. “She just… tired herself out. I need you to come and take her home.”
There was a pause, a silence that lasted for a long, long moment. Erwin was probably contemplating if he should trust him or not. At last, he said, “Send me your location.”
He ended the call immediately.
A little shaken after the encounter, Levi thought about his next move, should he wait for Erwin or—
“I would advise against it,” Ymir said, unusually serious. “From what I’ve heard just now, the guy hates your guts. Don’t aggravate the situation any further and don’t make him look for you around the city. He won’t be happy when he finds you.”
Yeah, Levi thought so too.
“Pour me another glass,” he asked, his tone almost pleading. And here he was worrying about tomorrow… and now he could very well find himself sitting behind bars in the next hour.
___
Erwin arrived not even ten minutes later, walking into the bar like he owned the damn place. Last time Levi saw him, he was wearing police uniform, complete with white shirt and dark jacket. Now he was dressed in an unbuttoned coat and grey sweatpants, a combination, which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. Somehow, Erwin still managed to look formidable.
His eyes were the same icy cold color as Levi had remembered, but, because he was watching him so closely, he could notice the hint of concern that appeared, when Erwin’s gaze landed on Hange.
He crossed the bar in a few short strides, standing protectively over her. He shook her shoulder, then, with more trepidation than Levi would have expected from him, he checked her pulse. The sigh that escaped him was filled with relief, but when Erwin turned to face Levi, none of it was reflected on his face.
“What had happened?”
His voice was quiet, controlled. Even so, the anger was slipping through. Levi suppressed a shiver. He would not let this man intimidate him.
“She exhausted herself to the point of collapsing. Someone must have pushed too much work on her.”
Perhaps, his words were unjust, after all, Levi knew how much Erwin cared about Hange. And he knew that the man did his best to protect her from the burdens of their work. But Erwin didn’t like Levi, and while it was more than understandable, the feeling was also more than mutual.
However, Erwin didn’t seem offended or outraged. He seemed to disregard Levi’s presence completely.
“How much do I have to pay?” he asked Ymir, keeping his hand on Hange’s shoulder.
“It’s on the house,” Ymir replied, almost frantically. If Levi hadn’t been mocked by this girl for the entirety of the evening, he’d say that she looked scared. Even so, it was hard to deny that she certainly was cautious.
“Thank you,” Erwin nodded, “And sorry for the troubles. I’ll take her home now. And you,” he pointed with his chin at Levi. “You’re going with me.”
Levi gulped, but didn’t try to argue. Firstly, he didn’t want to start a scene. And secondly, he wasn’t sure that whatever scene he’d cause, he’d come out of it as a winner.
“Good luck, dude,” Ymir whispered to him. She almost sounded sincere. Did it mean he looked that pathetic?
He reached out to Hange, but one freezing look from Erwin, and Levi pulled his hand back, curling it into a fist.
Fuck, he hoped Hange lived somewhere nearby. Otherwise, one hell of a drive was waiting for him.
Erwin scooped Hange into his arms, effortlessly lifting her up. Her head rolled to his shoulder, nose fitting into the crook of his neck.
In his giant arms, Hange seemed so small, almost vulnerable. As he watched Erwin carry her outside, Levi felt sudden, completely illogical pang of jealousy.
Fuck, now he was just going crazy.
Erwin led him out to the parking lot, where a black sedan was parked.
Levi wanted to help him open the door, but apparently Erwin needed only one hand to hold Hange. As the door to the back seat was opened, he placed her inside, careful not to bump her into anything.
Just before Levi could slide into the backseat beside Hange, pull her head onto his lap, maybe stroke her hair… Erwin faced him once again, his strong jaw clenched and his mouth set in a firm line. “Take the passenger seat.”
Again, Levi complied without another a single complain. The situation was already tense, after all.
As he lowered himself into a passenger seat, Levi felt like his stomach was filled with heavy rocks. As he pulled the seatbelt over his chest, he felt like it was growing tighter with every breath he took.
A moment later, Erwin sat down too, sliding into the driver’s seat and igniting the car. He rode out of the parking lot wordlessly. He continued to drive in the utter silence.
In his life, Levi had enough moments that made his throat seize with worry. He was a criminal, a thief, and their heists didn’t always go according to the plan. But never before he had felt so… on edge. He felt like was standing on the top of the skyscraper, his feet dangerously close to verge of it. A sudden gush of wind, a single uneven breath could send him flying down.
So Levi sat tight, his hands curled into fists at his lap. He stared right ahead, afraid to suddenly meet Erwin’s gaze. He was breathing as quietly as possible, not wanting to upset the fragile balance.
But the balance was ruined, destroyed completely, without a hope of salvation, when they heard a sharp gasp coming from the backseat.
Hange’s head appeared in the space between two front seats a second later. Her eyes were shifting from Levi to Erwin, the gears in her head turning so quickly, Levi could almost hear their movements.
The realization came to her way too swiftly, cruel in its suddenness.
“Fuck,” she took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes with a pained expression. “Erwin, listen, I can explain—”
“You will,” he said, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror. “After I get you home.”
The rest of the ride was spent in silence, and if Levi thought that the silence was tense and pressing before, this one opened a whole new level. At least, now it wasn’t as quiet as before, because Hange kept shifting in her seat. Levi could practically feel her eyes bore into the back of his head. He would have snapped, would have told her to quit staring like a weirdo, if her unnaturally calm boss wasn’t sitting right next to him.
When Erwin parked the car next to the apartment complex where Hange was evidently living, Levi breathed out a loud sigh of relief. Fuck, it felt like he was holding in a dump for the entirety of the fifteen-minute trip.
Growing up without mother, having only Kenny as a guardian, Levi’s childhood was very different from the other kids. He never shared his classmates’ interests, never went to parties and football matches, preferring to stay at home and help his uncle get ready for his next heist. He never actually had the pleasure to experience the scenario of asking someone on a date. He also never knew the humiliation and shame one would feel if their date was interrupted by his crush’s father. Of course, he and Hange weren’t on a date, and Erwin wasn’t her father, but as the three of them were standing in the elevator, waiting for it to stop at the fourteenth floor, Levi was as worried and mortified as a teenager who got their date ruined.
When they exited the elevator, Hange took the lead, walking towards her apartment with her head lowered and shoulders slumped.
She reached the door and unlocked it, letting them enter first.
“I didn’t expect guests,” chuckling so awkwardly that Levi cringed, she turned the light on, basking her apartment in a faint orange light. “So sorry for the mess.”
Levi would have snort and say that he wasn’t expecting anything else, or he would have scrunch his nose at the amount of clatter that he saw on the coffee table in the living room. However, the presence of Erwin wasn’t exactly making him feel playful.
Hange was either still drunk or the exhaustion was still having its effect on her, but as she walked further into the apartment, she was slightly staggering.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Erwin said, his voice gentler than Levi had ever heard it. With a hand on the small of her back, he guided Hange towards the closed door, where, as Levi guessed, her bedroom was. “You stay here,” he told Levi.
Levi barely resisted the urge to scoff. What, Erwin thought that he was stupid or daring enough to follow? He was certainly not.
After the door after Hange and Erwin closed, Levi continued standing awkwardly in the hallway for another moment. He could faintly hear their voices coming from another room, but they were too quiet for him to understand what the conversation was about.
Ignoring the urge to come closer and eavesdrop, Levi decided to take a look around the apartment.
It was messy – just as Hange had said. Books and papers were scattered around, the coffee table had a a large stain on it, and the couch was peppered with crumbs. But that wasn’t what interested Levi. He was much more interested in learning what her apartment was hiding beyond filth and trash.
Firstly, he headed to the large bookshelf in the living room. As he had expected, there were lots of textbooks there – books on criminology, forensic science, crime prevention and even sociology. The presence of fiction books wasn’t surprising, but the amount of them certainly was. Apparently, the workaholic detective Hange Zoe was also an avid book worm. His lips curling up, he stored that small piece of trivia to the part of his mind that was dedicated to everything he found endearing about Hange.
Next to the books stood a couple of picture frames. One of them showed Hange, squished between two men – Erwin and her other blonde friend, Mike. All three of them were smiling, happy and younger than they were now.
The second photo was of Hange and two adults – her parents, Levi presumed. If the previous photo pictured Hange who was only a couple of years younger, this one showed a much, much younger version. She was barely a teenager there – clad in overalls, with skinned knee, duct-taped glasses and wearing a bright, joyful smile.
Looking at that smile, Levi couldn’t help but smile back.
His mind exhausted and overwhelmed with the events of this day, it started to wander. Levi tried to imagine what would have happened, how different his life could be if Hange had befriended him when they were kids. Would his life be different, though? Or would his upbringing and unfortunate circumstances still bring him where he was now?
There was no way to find out, and that’s why there was no reason to ponder on it.
His curiosity drove him to his next stop, kitchen. He was just about to find out what the great detective Zoe preferred to stash in her refrigerator, when the door of the bedroom opened and closed. Levi heard the sound of heavy footsteps that got closer and closer.
And just like that, his good mood was gone. Just like that, he was on the edge of the skyscraper once again.
When Levi mastered the courage to turn around, Erwin stood at the other side of the small kitchen, hands crossed on his chest. Even in sweatpants and worn-out t-shirt, he still looked as commanding as ever.
“I told you to leave, and never come back. I gave you a chance to escape. Why didn’t you take it?”
Why didn’t he take it? Didn’t Erwin already know his reason?
“I’m sure Hange has explained everything to you.”
“She has.”
And what, Erwin didn’t find her reasoning sufficient enough? Fuck, the blonde bastard pissed him off so much.
“I came because I need to find my uncle and learn what the fuck has happened while I was gone.” Levi said, his anger barely constrained. “My return to the city has nothing to do with Hange or with you.”
Technically, it wasn’t a lie, he did come to look for Kenny. The fact that his and Hange’s goals aligned was a mere coincidence.
“If you have problem with us working together, then go and talk it out with Hange, explain why exactly you don’t trust her judgement. Just don’t pour all of your bullshit on me.”
“I trust her judgement,” in the semi-darkness of the kitchen, Erwin’s eyes flashed brightly, like a lightening during a storm. “I just don’t trust you.”
His anger growing, Levi already had a vicious enough retort, ready to spill out of his mouth. But just before he started talking, Erwin continued, interrupting his tirade. “Hange told me you had helped a lot today,” he tilted his head slightly to the side, considering Levi. “She said that this case can’t be solved without you. And while, I have my doubts about it, it seems that Hange has none. I don’t know what the hell she sees in you, but she trusts you and believes in you. And as I’ve said, I trust her.”
Hange… trusted him? Trusted him enough to tell her boss about it? Did she tell him about it? Or was it Erwin’s own assumption? If so, then, surely, Erwin was mistaken, surely, he got the wrong impression. Could he, though? Could a man as cunning and smart as him misjudge his own friend?
Levi forced these thoughts away, they were pointless and confusing. Right now, he had a more pressing question.
“So now what? You’ll let the two of us continue investigation?”
“I will,” Erwin nodded. “But if you hurt Hange in any way…”
Scoffing, Levi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I got it, you’ll hurt me.”
Erwin’s lips curled up in a smile that was devilish enough to send shivers down Levi’s spine. “In more ways than just one, Ackerman.”
But the moment passed, and the chilly expression was gone. “Hange is asleep,” Erwin said, pushing the hair back from his face. Up until this moment, Levi failed to take notice just how disheveled the other man looked. Was he that worried about Hange that he forgot to fix his less than immaculate appearance? “She told me that you can spend the night here.”
“Will you be watching over me all night then?” Levi asked, his voice still gruff, but not as biting as it was before.
“No,” shockingly, but Erwin sounded more at ease as well. “I entrust this investigation solely in Hange’s hands. She’ll be responsible for the end result and she’s responsible for you. Meanwhile, I need to catch some sleep as well.”
With that, Erwin turned around, walking out of the kitchen and heading in the direction of the front door. Reluctantly, Levi followed after him, cautiously watching him put on his boots and coat. Erwin’s hand was on the doorknob, when he twisted his face to the side, meeting Levi’s eyes.
“I’m giving you a second chance, Ackerman. Fuck this up and I’ll come for you.”
Levi nodded, expecting nothing less. From now on, he had to be more careful, he was sure that Erwin’s watchful eye would be following him everywhere. Just another complication to the already complicated case.
As soon as Erwin left, Levi walked into the living room, falling down on a couch. The couch was dusty, his clothes were filthy from rolling around on the floor in Ymir’s apartment, but he was too exhausted to go to shower, and he had no clothes he could change in, anyway.
Sleep was calling to him, more insistently with each passing moment. But before he closed his eyes and let himself succumb to the darkness completely, Levi pulled a phone out of his pocket. He came here to find Kenny, he hoped he would receive a clue about his whereabouts while searching their apartment. He found nothing there, but perhaps…
He dialed Kenny’s number.
One beep, two beeps, three, four…
Levi kept listening to the mechanic, measured sound until the call was disconnected. So, Kenny wasn’t picking up. Levi was disappointed, but not surprised.
He saw no reason in trying to call him once again and put his phone on a coffee table next to the couch. His eyes were already fluttering shut, when a loud vibration jolted him out of his semi-sleepy state.
Levi jumped a little, reaching out to his phone. He unlocked it, staring at the notifications with wide eyes.
He received three messages. From unknown number.
He hurried to open them.
Don’t go poking your nose into this wasp nest, Levi
And tell that detective of yours to quit either
Stop chasing after me. Leave before it’s not too late
With his fingers trembling so much his phone almost fell down, Levi dialed that number. The call went straight into voicemail.
“Fuck!” he threw the phone back onto the table, with more force than was necessary. Fucking Kenny and the games he was playing. Hadn’t he said that he trusted him? Evidently, he didn’t trust Levi enough to let him help with whatever shit he had involved himself.
Well, whether he wanted Levi to help him or not, it didn’t matter. Levi was coming after him. And he wouldn’t let Kenny’s lame threats stop him. Nothing would stop him, not until Levi found out what the fuck happened to his uncle.
Hold on for me, Kenny, he thought, on the verge of sleep, I’m coming for you.
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hazeltiberiuslee · 2 years
Text
Is My Life of Value? (Noelle & Zhongli Fanfic)
Noelle paused as she reached out for the cup of water on the counter. Dejected at the thoughts consuming her mind, she gripped the air tightly before lowering her hand.
As she glimpsed at the waters reflection, she saw her distraught expression looking back at her.
This was her eighth time taking the exam to become a knight of Favonius, and again, she had failed it. This time, Jean had come up to her to explain why she had failed.
“Though you have all the traits of a wonderful knight Noelle, you are a tad too reckless when it comes to yourself. A knight must treasure themselves, and value their own lives while aiding others. I wish for you to take this time to truly think about the value of your life, and not just everyone else’s. You’re special too, I only wish you could see that.” Jean said.
Noelle held her head as she kept thinking about it. Was she really that reckless? She only wished to give her all when it came to her aspirations. She didn’t think that was a bad thing.
But that had been exactly what kept her back from becoming a knight.
She sighed before heading outside of the shed to gaze at the sunset dipping lower into Teyvat. Gripping both her hands anxiously, she desperately looked around in vain to see if there was anyone in need of her help. Straining her ears, she tried to hear any horses footsteps, or a cry for help that she can assist with. But no one uttered her name, only the sounds of snoring from a boar who laid near a tree.
Shoulders drooping, she sighed deeply and decided that maybe she needed a walk to clear her head.
As the light from the sun diminished, the stars took its place to guide Noelle in her walk. Dandelions wavered in the air with its luminous blue glow, and Noelle finally stopped at the end of a giant cliff.
“Acting grand master Jean had told me to take some time off to rest and figure things out. I should do as she says since it is her order, however…” Breathing in another heavy sigh, Noelle sat down at the edge and let the wind rustle gently past her cheeks.
Her perfect posture made her sit upright, hands automatically folding itself on top of each other, neatly resting above her lap. The breathtaking view of Mondstadt filled her eyes as her mind wandered.
Did anyone call her name in hopes that she would arrive? Did someone feel an ache of disappointment, as she did, that she was no longer available to help them in their moment of need?
“…It is…quite lonely when I’m not doing my duties within Mondstadt.” she whispered.
She missed the feeling of being needed. Being wanted.
“Am I naive in thinking that chasing after your dreams without stopping is the right way to go?” She wondered out loud.
Keep your eyes on your goal and never stop working to get it. If you slack off, you’re being lazy. Never stop racing towards your dreams. Those had been the messages that came through while growing up as a child.
Is it possible those messages have been always wrong? She thought.
“Sigh…”
Closing her eyes, Noelle let herself go and flopped to the ground. The grass tickled the sides of her face as she listening to the rustling of the trees. All of it had somehow started to calm her raging thoughts.
It had been years since she rested like this. The only time she had done so was before her dreams ignited within her chest, as a child to be a knight. Ever since then, she had read hundreds of books about knights and their moral code.
Every time she read about them, the words had fanned the flames of her passion higher than it did before.
As her consciousness started fading, she felt a tug deep within her guiding her to another direction.
Looking around the dream, Noelle heard a sigh, and a slight whisper. She didn’t understand the context of the words, though the voice sounded oddly familiar.
“That old blockhead sure likes to put me to work even though there’s no wine to be exchanged for it.” It muttered.
‘Huh?’ Noelle voiced.
“Ah well, it’s not much work anyway. Well then, have a good talk Noelle! And next time, drink some wine with your friends! Wouldn’t want you to end up the same as that workaholic.” It sang, before a flash of light appeared and faded.
Out of habit Noelle shielded her eyes and blinked rapidly, only to find her breath escaping her.
‘Wow.’ She exclaimed.
All around her she saw pools of water and a low, wide tree centered on the small patch of land that she was standing on top of. Near her, a stone table stood with ceramic cups filled with herbal tea.
“Come child.” A voice called out.
Gasping in surprise, she snapped her head to look at the source of the voice and saw a tall gentleman with long brown hair and amber eyes. He gave a small smile and gestured her to sit.
For some reason, she found herself easily doing so.
In normal instances, she would have refused and instead asked if he required assistance before serving up some snacks.
He chuckled as if he knew what was going through her mind.
“I heard that the exam didn’t go quite as you wished.” he stated.
A pout began to form as Noelle’s lips puckered out. ‘It didn’t go well at all! Though I got everything right.’ She slumped in her seat.
‘From the physical aspects to the written parts, I’m sure I aced everything! But… I failed because master Jean said I didn’t care for my life well enough. But isn’t knights supposed to be able to put their lives on the line anyway to serve?’ She moped, hanging her head low.
A part of her was dumbfounded that she was suddenly acting like this but she couldn’t stop revealing her true feelings to the stranger. It was quite baffling.
The stranger didn’t seem to mind though as he smiled and gave a hearty chuckle.
“You have a strong sense of duty and loyalty to Mondstadt. That is what I quite liked about you, which is why I gifted you your vision.” he said nonchalantly. Bringing the cup close to his lips, he breathed in the scent of hot green tea.
Under normal circumstances, Noelle would have opened her eyes wide in shock at the revelation that the person in front of her was the Geo Archon. But whether it was the fact that they were meeting in a dream or not, she remained calm, accepting the situation easily.
Picking up her own cup, she followed Morax and breathed in the tea before drinking it. The warm taste of green tea penetrated her being and strangely put her in a calmer mood despite her misgivings.
While staring at the tea’s reflection, she found that the knots holding her complicated emotions tightly in a knot were slowly unwinding itself.
‘I don’t understand… Why is my life important if others may benefit from my actions, especially if Mondstadt finds itself in dire need of my assistance? As long as I am okay with it, is it not fine to continue the way it is?’ She pondered.
There was a moment of silence as Morax stirred his cup. He closed his eyes before lifting his arm. The air behind him shimmered before revealing the knights of Favonius headquarters.
In there, Jean and Kaeya were in a hushed discussion with each other. Jean’s face was furrowed with concern while Kaeya had his arms crossed but tried his best to comfort the acting grand master.
“She’s going to be fine Jean. The doctor said she will live, and that Noelle didn’t suffer from frostbite. Just need a few days rest and she’ll be back up ready to take on the world as always.” Kaeya reassured. He flashed her a charming smile but a corner of it twitched.
That didn’t escape Jean’s eyes and she just sighed with worry. She didn’t want to be acting like this but she had no one else to express her concerns to.
“She took on a reckless mission all by herself. What made her think that it was okay to do this without telling us?! Noelle barely had enough water and food as she went up into the mountains, and continued on even though her armor iced over after discovering the missing man.” She sighed.
Rubbing her face with both hands, Jean felt the stress building back up at the memory of Noelle nearly collapsing in front of Mondstadt gates. Jean had been making her rounds with Lisa when a guard yelled out in shock. Everyone had turned around to look expecting an attack, but found Noelle in the distance pushing herself to carry the man back through Mondstadt walls.
Everyone had ran to help her but it was as if Noelle couldn’t see them. Her eyes hazy and breathing haggard, she kept muttering that she’ll make sure that they both arrive home safe. For the man to hold on for his family. That it will be warm soon. She kept repeating those lines over and over, and those around her found it hard to make Noelle let go of the man on her back.
Kaeya suddenly stepped in and grasped Noelle by the shoulders before leaning in. “Welcome back. You did well Noelle, thank you for your services. Because of you, both you and Nimrod will live to see another day. Now let go of him, we will take care of the rest.” he said.
Transfixed on the voice speaking to her, Noelle lost grip of Nimrod and like a puppet with their strings cut, collapsed into his arms.
Jean felt thankful for Kaeya though she wondered how he knew that’d work.
The scene changed, and an image of Noelle unconscious on a patient bed appeared. Klee was looking concerned at how red Noelle was. Though red was her favorite color, she didn’t like it on Noelle like this.
Rummaging through her bag, Klee happily brought out a slightly crisp fish. She placed it on a plate that she brought out separately and left it on a counter before sitting up on the hospital chair.
“You need to get better so that we can go get some more fish together okay? Don’t tell master Jean, but I have the perfect spot to go to so that we can get a fresh meal! Fish is the just the best!” Klee exclaimed loudly.
There was no response from Noelle as Klee nestled her head onto the bed next to Noelle’s hand. Klee gently grasped the unconscious maid’s hand as she closed her eyes.
“Wake up soon so that we can together. I’ll even stay inside just for you, so that we can go together later. So please, wake up soon.” Klee whispered.
And with that the images from the past ended. Noelle stared stunned in silence. The Geo Archon had brought up a past incident and the reminder that she had worried people stung her conscience.
“You wish to charge in without rest and regard to your own life. As heroic as that may sound, it is not the way a knight should live.”
Morax set down his cup and looked into Noelle’s wavering eyes.
“Were it any of them marching through the dangerous winters of Dragonspine, would you also not fret for their lives?” he questioned. Noelle’s face flushed with guilt as she started understanding.
“Though there will always be situations where one puts their lives at risk for the safety of others, it is not ideal to completely disregard it.”
Bringing the cup to his lips once again, Morax sipped on the remainder of the tea.
“A knight is a citizen of their country. And what good country would want to needlessly throw away the lives of their citizens?”
Refilling his cup, Morax watched as Noelle looked down once again. A kind smile formed on his face.
“It is good to have the spirit of a knight, however, do not forget that you are a individual. Your life isn’t just yours once you build connections as well. There will be those that grieve for you, and those who will happily share their moments in life with you.”
He got up and stopped in front of Noelle. Reaching out, Morax patted her head tenderly like a father would with their daughter.
“Do take care to enjoy those moments yourself, and to share your times of suffering as well. Enjoy life, and you will shine like gold in the memories of both yourself and others.”
Closing his eyes he gave one last smile. “Now awaken and go home.”
Authors note:
Please like and subscribe! This is from my archiveofourown account as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/34323085
You can find more fanfics on my archive account as well, under HazelTiberiusLee. Have a nice one! <3
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nuitapp · 3 years
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Solar Eclipse 🌑 New Moon in Gemini ♊
Happy Eclipse Season aka cosmic course correction season aka transformation season! 
The Gemini Solar Eclipse is upon us and signaling some major shifts for some signs of the zodiac.  
NUiT has you covered on demystifying the cosmic, and sourcing out what the  June 10, 2021 Eclipse, indicates for your Chart and your life. 
⭐Solar Eclipse, June 10, 2021, at 19° Gemini 
A solar eclipse is an eclipse on the new moon, which signals a fresh new start, typically more externally and collectively, rather than internally. This eclipse is on the North Node, which signals growth and gain. There could be a fresh new start brewing in Gemini themes - media, communication, and immediate networks. 
This eclipse is stabilized by Saturn, so the events transpiring around this time can have long-term effects or longevity. However, Neptune is in the mix, fogging and confusing, so there could be themes of misinformation, manipulation, delusion, and not being certain about what’s truly going on. The eclipse is gathered with the eclipse ruler, Mercury, who will be retrograde at the time of the eclipse. This indicates that all of the information isn’t available at the time to make a logical decision. Notice what comes up and try to stay objective and patient about it - the truth will be revealed in time.
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⭐Overall Eclipse Tips
Oftentimes, eclipses are timed with significant shifts. There can be a frantic “now or never” in the air, as individuals contemplate major life changes (moves, breakups, purchases, etc!) 
However, the eclipses in May and June of 2021 are co-present with Mercury retrograde, which means that we should walk, not run when it comes to making huge decisions. There could be information we’re not aware of, especially since Mercury squares Neptune throughout its retrograde journey. 
Sometimes, the changes that occur during eclipse season aren’t because of a decision but because of being “eclipsed” - huge changes that are thrust upon us. If something drastic occurs during this time, trust that it truly is for your highest and best good. Eclipse signal fated, karmic changes - so this shift is needed for your soul’s development. Even if it’s shocking or upsetting, remember that things that transpire during eclipses are meant to be.
With North Node in Gemini, we are being asked to move towards the energy of Gemini - staying objective, asking questions, being logical, and using common sense to think through what makes sense for our world. 
In ancient astrology, eclipses were considered malefic omens. There’s no need to be fearful during this time, but we do recommend avoiding spell work or rituals, as the energy can be quite volatile and unpredictable. 
Not every eclipse is transformative or dramatic for you and your chart - so don’t feel left out if nothing HUGE occurs within your world - just strive to be the rock for those in your life who may be questioning major changes! 
Mutable placements will feel these transformations the most. 
⭐Read for your rising sign and sun sign below! 
Aries ♈
For you, the first eclipse on May 26, 2021, will be a letting go around higher education, travel, and spirituality. There may be something you’re ready to shed that you’ve believed for a long time, and it just no longer resonates with you. Perhaps you dreamed for years about earning your Ph.D. or moving to Bali, yet you’re finding at this leg of your journey, you’re content finding the beauty in your immediate environment. You’re anchoring into the beauty finding truth and purpose within rather than feeling like happiness and joy is “out there.” The new beginning initiating within your world has to do with communication and your mind. You may feel extra supported in speaking your mind, honoring your truth, expanding your nearby networks, working on your social media or marketing strategy or enrolling in a trade school or certification program. 
Taurus ♉
Taurus, the truths that these eclipses are unearthing for you has to do with your own self-sufficiency and self-esteem. The Sagittarius lunar eclipse is an internal culmination around how you can or cannot trust and rely on others. There could be an emotional reaction to your partner’s income, your parents cutting on financial support, or a loss of alimony or child support of some kind timed around this eclipse. However, you are learning with these eclipses, Taurus, just how capable you are in providing for yourself and others. The Gemini solar eclipse boosts your money-making abilities, so if there is a loss of financial support you receive from others, you are likely to make up the difference in spades. Furthermore, it’s a boost in how you perceive yourself - diving into your true worth and the value you bring to every situation, whether others support you or not. 
Gemini ♊
All eyes on you, Gemini! With North Node hitting your Gemini placements, you may feel thrust into the spotlight. The axis for you is about self and others and choosing SELF above pleasing others. The Sagittarius eclipse could be bringing a dramatic ending as it relates to your relationships and partnerships. Now, before you panic, Geminis - this doesn’t necessarily mean a romantic or friend breakup. There could be a need to let go of an unhealthy mindset you have around relationships that needs to be shed or a belief about your partner that isn’t realistic. There could be an emotional revelation around an important relationship in your world.  The Gemini eclipse propels you into the spotlight, giving you more visibility in all of your pursuits and boosting your confidence and independence. Trust yourself and advocate for yourself, Gemini  You may be learning with these eclipses, how the only person you can count on in your life is yourself, and that’s okay. If you’re stuck at a crossroad around this time between what you want and what others want from you - choose yourself. Every time.
Cancer ♋
Cancers, as the sign that rules the moon in the zodiac, you are extra sensitive when it comes to eclipse!  Honor the calls you feel at this time to come inward and gather strength from within. The first eclipse could bring a letting go as it relates to your work - you could be finalizing a final work task, saying goodbye to a place of employment, or having to let go of an employee you’ve brought on. You may feel extra exhausted, and less available for all of your tasks, projects, and errands. Some Cancers could be confronting a health problem at this time. However, the moon children have a brand new start when it comes to your spirituality, your solitude, and your healing journey. Be willing to find the answers you seek less in the outer world, and inside in yourself. 
Leo ♌
Leo, for you, the axis activated with these eclipses is between friends and self-expression. There may be illuminations around certain hobbies or activities that were “fun” that no longer hold the same joy for you. Perhaps you used to love partying with the same group of friends every weekend or painting, and now your priorities have shifted. Allow yourself to redefine what you find enjoyable in your world. There could be an emotional revelation around someone you’ve been dating or were interested in. The Gemini eclipse beckons you to widen your perspective, work on altruistic or humanitarian efforts, expand your social and professional networks, and moving closer in the direction of your dreams. These eclipses are reminding you to spread your wings, connect with like-minded groups and organizations and remind yourself of your larger role in the fabric of humanity. 
Virgo ♍ 
Virgos, you are hard-working, yet humble. So it may not be very comfortable how much these eclipses are catapulting you in the public eyes! These eclipses are bringing major new beginnings in regards to your career, public persona, and reputation. You are putting yourself out there and working towards what you want your legacy to be, and these eclipses could be timed with significant events that relate to your career. In this pursuit of putting yourself out there, you may find that you have less time to attend to your home, family, and emotional state. You could be closing a chapter with the Sagittarius lunar eclipse around a residence, a roommate, a family situation, or a habit you have around emotional regulation. Allow these eclipses to grant you more emotional freedom by shedding what weighs you down, and to soar towards your destiny!
Libra ♎ 
It’s time to focus less on the trees and more on the forest, Libras, as these eclipses are pushing you to fixate upon the bigger picture. The Sagittarius lunar eclipse is a culminating release around gossip and communication, shedding anything that is petty and inconsequential. Let yourself shed any gossipy behavior, social networks or contacts that have a negative influence on your mind. The Gemini solar eclipse is a push to expand your world - now that you’ve decluttered your mind, you can have the space to invest energy into expanding your world and perspective. Some Libras could be looking positively to the future with travel plans, uncovering spiritual beliefs, or prioritizing higher education. Allow your perspective to expand, as you focus less on what doesn’t contribute to the bigger picture of your life, and invest more energy to finding purpose and meaning. 
Scorpio ♏ 
The first eclipse, on May 26, 2021, may be timed with a culminating point of your life around money and income. You could be letting go of a stream of income that was sucking energy from you. The new beginning in your world is about accepting support from others, whether it’s a partner’s income, support from parents, or support from the universe. There’s a strong theme of surrender - of trusting more what’s murky and uncertain and shedding any control needs you have. Some Scorpios may be prioritizing handling your own grief and diving deeply in life’s mysteries. Give yourself the space to dive into these intense themes - after all, you’re a Scorpio - intense is what you do best! 
Sagittarius ♐
My bold Sagittarians, these eclipses are rocking you to your foundations, so you can crack open as the most authentic version of yourself. With South Node in your sign, you could feel confused and murky about your identity. You may not be feeling like yourself, uncertain, and looking to others for direction. As a bold, independent Sagittarius, this sensation may feel uncomfortable. For you, the new beginning that is formulating within your world has to do with relationships and partnerships. You could meet someone significant around the Gemini solar eclipse, or have a fresh start within your union. All in all, these eclipses are making you realize that you are stronger at this time when connecting and collaborating with others than on your own. It’s okay to trust and rely on others, Sagittarians - you don’t have to do it alone!
Capricorn ♑ 
The eclipses, for the Capricorn risings, is bringing to the forefront of your awareness, your own healing, and ways that you can physically and tangibly work on your health and wellness. The Sagittarius lunar eclipse could be a revelation around a subconscious area of life you’ve suppressed, the ways you’ve kept yourself isolated within your healing journey, or endings you’re ready to let go of. You’re decluttering the most private, hidden portions of your brain in order to anchor more into your material, physical existence, as the Gemini solar eclipse is a fresh new start when it comes to diet and exercise, service, and small animals. Prioritize the day-to-day rituals that can most support your psychological healing. 
Aquarius ♒ 
Aquarians, you are the most unique sign of the zodiac, and these eclipses are bubbling up anything that stifles your individuality.  The Sagittarius lunar eclipse at the end of May, for you, is an emotional revelation around friendships you’ve outgrown. You could be saying goodbye to a dream you had for the future that no longer fits within your vision. You are letting go of whatever group, organization or club that made you feel like you had to hide certain parts of yourself in order to “fit in.” What you’re prioritizing with this eclipse cycle, is enjoying and celebrating the person you are. You could be making more time for creative projects, romantic affairs, spending time with your children or simply having fun in your world. Channel the open-minded, youthful energy of Gemini!
Pisces ♓ 
For the fish, there could be some dramatic reveals around career and home. This eclipse cycle, for you, has largely been about trusting your intuition more so than the “path” you thought your life was supposed to follow. The Sagittarius lunar eclipse could be timed with an emotional revelation around career. 
Grant yourself the space to move away from a job that no longer fulfills you, even if you thought this was going to be forever. Trust yourself and your faith enough to let go of the dreams that no longer resonate, to move towards your own emotional fulfillment. This nodal axis is about being less concerned with how things look in the public, in order to cater to how things feel in private. Your happiness and mental health is the most important thing in life, so if you feel a call to disconnect from social media or take a break from work to take care of family, your home and yourself, honor that call! The Gemini solar eclipse could be propelling you into a promising new property, a new living situation, and a new foundation of emotional happiness that genuinely supports you, from the inside out. 
Eclipses Season 2021 - Forecasts, on the NUiT App Blog!
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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years
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Chapter 8
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Tallpaw padded behind Dawnstripe, struggling to see over the long grass and stifling a sneeze as it tickled his nose. “But I’m confused,” he said. “Why did Heatherstar suddenly change her mind?”
Dawnstripe shrugged. “I don’t think Heatherstar ever changed her mind, it hadn’t been decided to begin with. The council makes an official decision the night before the ceremony about how an apprentice will train, and with who.”
“My father sounded so sure about me being apprenticed to Woollycloud…”
“Well, parents always have hopes and preferences, but it’s never definite. I suppose Sandstone decided that on his own.”
“Do you think Heatherstar really only did it because she doesn’t like him?”
“Of course not! Heatherstar would never do that. She made you a moor runner because she thought you wanted to be. You look so miserable trying to dig, and you're such a natural runner. The deputy, medicine cat, and elders must have had an agreement as well.”
I doubt Whitetooth did… But the others...they really thought that? Tallpaw was silent for a moment. 
Dawnstripe paused and looked at him “Do you want to be a tunneler? Heatherstar made the call, but if you really wanted to, she wouldn’t deny you. Cats have changed before. If you want Woollycloud to train you...”
“N-no it’s…” Tallpaw fumbled, still trying to piece his feelings together. “I guess...I’ve never actually thought that much about what I want. I thought it was just what I needed to do.”
“Think about it now. I’d love to train you, I’ve always wanted an apprentice. But it’s your path, Tallpaw. What do you want?”
Tallpaw looked up at her. “I...I don’t want to be a tunneler,” he mewed, a twinge of shame nagging at the back of his head as the words left his mouth. Yet, as soon as he said them, he knew they were true. “I don’t like it...I’m not good at digging. I’m not built like Plumclaw or Woollycloud. I never feel like I’m making progress, and I keep hurting my claws, and I hate feeling cramped in the dark, and...and…”
Dawnstripe purred and rested her muzzle briefly on his head. “Then say no more. This is your first day as an apprentice Tallpaw! Get excited! From today, you start to become a real warrior. Your father may be upset at Heatherstar, but surely not at you. I’m sure he’ll understand if it’s what you want. You are a warrior to your clan, not just to one cat. Now save your worries for later, I want to show you something.”
A real warrior… The thought warmed him from nose to tail tip. It didn’t matter what he specialized in. They were all warriors just the same, that was surely enough.
“Where are we going?” Tallpaw huffed. He hadn’t realized how tall this hill really was until he was climbing it. Dawnstripe shot a wide grin at him as they neared the top.
“The top of Outlook Hill. You can see everything from there. The wind can be heavy without the hill to block it, so brace yourself. It’s blowing hard today.”
Tallpaw leapt up beside her as she finally paused at the top. She wasn’t kidding about the wind. As soon as he’d peaked over the ridge, he was afraid he’d get knocked off his paws as the gust blasted him in the face and flapped in his ears. He ducked back down, fastening his claws tightly into the ground until it died down. 
“Don’t be afraid,” Dawnstripe encouraged. “You’ll be ok, it’s nothing to be frightened of. I’m right here with you. Come see!”
Tallpaw hesitantly straightened back up, braced this time as another gust hit him straight on, he pinned his ears back flat and squinted. When he could blink open his eyes, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The other apprentices weren’t exaggerating. He really couldn’t believe the world was so big.
 The sun was cresting the horizon behind him, lighting up the parting clouds in brilliant warm hues and bathing the moor in rosy light. The long swaying grass dropped below him in a steep downward slope and spread out almost further than he could see, stretching into a wide expanse of heather and gorse bushes dotting the fields, sparkling and heavy with last night's rain. Hills and mountains he’d never known about lay beyond, tinted blue in the distance, their peaks lit up in gold as the sun's rays touched them. Standing here at the highest point of the moor, he was suddenly aware of how tall this hill really was and almost felt unsteady on his paws at the thought of the wind force sending him tumbling back down.  He found himself wondering if birds felt a similar way while trying to fly for the first time.
“No other cats in the forest can have a sight like this.” Dawnstripe said. “Remember wind isn’t your enemy. It is part of us, and we move with it. It guides our paws over the moor and gives us our swift step. Fierce, but also gentle, a constant presence. If you listen, you can hear her singing.”
As the frightening gust died down a bit, he pricked his ears hesitantly. His whiskers were pinned back and his ears whistled. “I only hear it whipping my ears.”
“Be still for a moment. Close your eyes, and focus on just feeling it.”
He was still as she asked, and just when he was afraid he wouldn’t understand, the gust turned into a more gentle breeze. It whistled down the hill side, ebbing and flowing in strength. A gentle ruffling past his fur, almost like a clanmate brushing along his side. As he closed his eyes, he pictured it moving down the hill, weaving past the sage brush, around the gorse and the scarce scraggly trees. It was all so far away, but letting the scents sink in as they were carried to him, the heather on the far moor sweet on his tongue, a rabbit somewhere foraging in the thistles, it was almost as if he could picture every groove and flower clearly, even the parts of the moor out of sight. All of it connected. And then, quietly at first and then growing in volume, he heard a low whistling. High pitched, and then lower. Almost a hum as it whisked through the fields.
“I think I hear it.” Tallpaw murmured. The moor really was singing to him.
Dawnstripe brushed her tail against him. “It doesn’t always happen, but when the winds are just right, they say the matron of the moors returns to the hills. She lives on in the winds and sings to her children still, always running beside them. You are part of this place after all, the same way it will always be a part of you.”
Tallpaw could hardly believe such a view had been just above his head, towering over camp all his life and he never knew. He only barely heard Dawnstripe laugh over the whistling in his ears. “I never forgot my first sight of the moor. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“How far does it go?” Tallpaw breathed.
“The forest's edge is below those far hills. We’ll head in that direction and then make our way around. I just wanted your first view to be from the best spot, especially since the rain clouds were nice enough to part for us. You can see most of the territory from up here.”
“All of it? This is all ours?” How would he ever memorize such a large place?
“Everything between the tree lines. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
The wind blew from behind Tallpaw, as if it was tugging him forward, and a thrill ran up his spine as he was eager to let it. Fixing his eyes to the farthest point in sight he felt a leap of kit-like energy bouncing around inside him, a near irresistible urge to let that energy out and spring forward, race the wind, let it carry his paws, cross the open stretch and not stop until he reached the other side. This was nothing like looping the camp. Nothing to get in his way at all, he could fly down the hill if he wanted to, and in that instance he’d never wanted anything so badly.
A greeting meow broke him from his trance and he turned to see Briarpaw and his mentor Meadowbreeze trotting towards them. Dawnstripe waved her tail in greeting.
“Good morning, Dawnstripe!” Meadowbreeze called. “We were hoping to join you for a bit on Tallpaw’s first territory tour before hunting practice, if you don’t mind!”
“Not at all Meadowbreeze.” Dawnstripe nodded at the pale tortoiseshell. The two mollies greeted each other as Briarpaw came to touch noses with Tallpaw.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn't it?” Briarpaw purred, looking out at the endless sky. “I almost fell down the hill during me and Shrewpaw’s first day. The wind was much stronger, not to mention a lot colder.”
Tallpaw let his  gaze drift back to the hills. “I feel like I could get lost just looking at it.” Now that he’d seen how big the world was, he was somehow greedy for the sight of more of it. This was only WindClan territory and it looked like so much. 
After a moment's silence, Briarpaw cleared his throat and said, “so...moor runner after all, huh? Who would’ve thought?” Tallpaw’s ears set back in slight discomfort. “Y-yeah, I guess so…”
“I always thought you’d be suited for it, you know. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d be interested. But you used to be faster than both me and Shrew, even though you were younger.” He paused for a heartbeat. “How, uh...how are you feeling?”
Tallpaw knew what he was referring to, though neither of them wanted to directly acknowledge the uncomfortable spat Sandstone and Heatherstar had in the middle of it all. He tried to remember what Dawnstripe said. Now wasn’t the time to worry. “I’m fine. I’m going to be a warrior, right? That’s all that matters.”
“That’s the spirit.” Meadowbreeze broke in. “We’d all better get a move on if you want to finish by sundown! You're starting at the northern border first right?”
Dawnstripe nodded and pointed her nose to the shorter hill. “Yep, it’ll be just over that rise, up the Swift-Step hills.” She winked at Tallpaw. “You can run there if you like. I know you want to.” 
Tallpaw did want to very much.
“Well then, race me there!” Dawnstripe called as she took off in a flash. 
Tallpaw instantly forgot any lingering anxiety as he streaked after her without a second thought, straight down the steep drop. He reveled in the wind whistling through his whiskers, letting gravity carry him down as much as his legs. The sharp incline of the hill made him feel like he was falling with each bound when his paws weren’t touching the earth, but the feeling was more exhilarating than frightening. If anything, it felt more like flying. I’d like to see Shrewpaw try to outrun me! he thought gleefully. The smug brown apprentice would be in for it now. He didn’t even care that the dew in the grass had left him soaked.
Tallpaw was proud of himself for almost managing to match Dawnstripe’s pace to the next hilltop, even if part of him knew she was probably intentionally keeping pace with him. Not too much farther ahead, the ground sloped down again into a thin strip of woodland. Faint rumbles in the distance made Tallpaw’s fur stand on end.
“Is that thunder?” he looked up in confusion. There wasn’t a dark cloud in the sky.
“That would be the Thunderpath.” Dawnstripe said. “Let’s go a bit closer. It’s important for you to know about it.”
Tallpaw wasn’t sure he wanted to. Briarpaw brushed against his side. “It’s not scary so long as you don’t touch it,” he said.
Once they reached the towering row of trees that Tallpaw had seen from the distant hill, he realized they were much bigger up close. WindClan’s camp didn’t have anything that tall. Tallpaw craned his neck up, but he couldn’t even see the tops of the pines past the snaring branches. Through the sparse undergrowth lay a long, black path of what looked like strange flat stone. A horrible acrid stench reached his nose. A rumble of thunder echoed in his ears, coming closer and faster. Tallpaw cowered instinctively and tried to turn, but Dawnstripe held her tail in front of him.
“Don’t be afraid, we’re safe here,” she said.
A massive shining beast came hurtling across the stones, so fast Tallpaw couldn’t even make it out clearly. It streaked past them and over a rise on the path before vanishing into the distance.
Tallpaw didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it out.
“That would be one of the twolegs monsters. We understand little about them other than they always stay on their path, and they can kill a cat with their feet if you ever get in their way.” Dawnstripe pointed ahead with her nose. “Do you see that flat smudge on the path? That was what appears to be a small squirrel.”
This close, Tallpaw could almost smell the scent of old rotting prey, but the red of its flesh was blackened and completely flat. If Dawnstripe hadn’t told him it was a squirrel, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to tell.
“That is why you must stay well away from those creatures' paws. They just run down everything in their way. Even something as big as a deer isn’t safe, and neither are we.”
“Do they eat cats?” Tallpaw’s voice shook slightly as he spoke.
Dawnstripe shook her head. “They don’t eat anything. They aren’t like animals. The good news is they are so loud, you can always hear and feel them coming. But it’s still best to stay well away from this place, and don’t ever chase prey onto the Thunderpath.”
“But...what are they? Are they like the bad spirits the elders talk about sometimes?”
“No, not like that. Even the elders aren’t sure what they are exactly, we only know they are tied to the twolegs somehow, and nothing good ever comes out of anything that's been touched by twolegs. Sometimes you can even see them inside. There was a time seasons ago when the clans never had to deal with twolegs or their monsters at all, and this path wasn’t here, but then they came in noisy droves and after some moons, the Thunderpath and the monsters were here. That's how the elders tell it anyway.”
“If the monsters aren’t really animals, does that mean twolegs aren’t either?” 
“If they had a proper name, we wouldn't dignify them with it,” Dawnstripe curled her lip in disdain. “They’re tall, awkward, and ugly things with no fur. They can’t be killed, as far as we know, and the animals they keep are often as dangerous as them. Dogs, for one. They bring destruction and danger wherever they go and they don’t behave in any way we can predict or understand. They are no friends to cats.”
“I heard cats live with them,” Briarpaw said.
“Some cats do, those are the kittypets you may have heard the warriors talk about.” Meadowbreeze explained. “I feel sorry for them really, they must have been brainwashed to stay docile and locked up the way they are. Twolegs try to capture a cat's heart so they lose all sense of their natural wild spirit.”
“Would twolegs ever come into our territory to try and make us kittypets?” Tallpaw asked nervously. Dawnstripe rested her tail on his shoulder reassuringly. “We are luckier than ThunderClan and ShadowClan that the nearest twolegs to us live on a farm further to the north, beyond that farther treeline. Twolegs have been edging closer to the other clans' territories for seasons, but StarClan has kept us safe from them so far. We never see them or their kittypets come as far as the moor, so you don’t have to worry. Besides, I heard they are very slow, and we can outrun them easily. Tallpaw didn’t need to be told twice. If he never had to meet a twoleg or their captive animal servants for as long as he lived, he would be perfectly happy with that.
“But that’s not the only thing to be wary about here,” Dawnstripe said and flicked her tail motioning for her apprentice to follow her as she padded along the woodland stretch.
 The Thunderpath was high above them now, and underneath the hill was a long narrow opening that led to the other side. The ground in front of it was squishy and wet, dotted with drowned brown plantlife. Through the other side, thick dark trees tangled together. A disgusting scent reached his nose, not as strong as the monster stench, but strong nonetheless. It smelled of wet moldy dirt and soggy prey he couldn’t quite place. 
“This,” continued Dawnstripe, “is our border with ShadowClan.”
ShadowClan. This was where those cats lived, tangled in those shadowy trees. It looked suffocating, almost as bad as how he pictured the tunnels themselves. In the dark undergrowth and tree branches twining together above them, he imagined the air in there was as wet and muggy as the ground at his feet.
“How can cats be content living in there?” Tallpaw asked. He remembered the elders' tale about how ShadowClan was banished to the dark swamp lands. No wonder they had been jealous of WindClan’s moor if that was where they lived. “Can they even get fresh air?”
“Not really. They must like it, I guess.” Briarpaw shrugged. “They’re a weird bunch.”
“Not a nice bunch either.” Meadowbreeze added. “Some say the heart of their territory is so dark, you can hardly tell the time of day. It must be horribly dreary.”
“This border is dangerous to wander on your own right now. We have no idea what ShadowClan is up to.” Dawnstripe warned. “They seemed to be sniffing around some moons ago, but it’s been quiet since. They’re very stealthy, so we have to keep a lookout for them.”
Tallpaw imagined the dark fox-muzzled cats he’d heard about peering at him from the far shadows. He shivered involuntarily and was grateful when Dawnstripe motioned for them to keep going. 
“We shouldn’t stay here long. We’ve got a lot farther to go. But now you know ShadowClan’s scent. Remember it, and keep an eye out.” 
Dawnstripe and Meadowbreeze began padding away, but Briarpaw dragged a bit behind, staring through the tunnel at the darkened tree line. Tallpaw turned back to him. “Briar? What’s wrong? we have to catch up.”
Briarpaw nodded absentmindedly and followed after Tallpaw, his fur prickling along his neck. 
Tallpaw looked at him quizzically. “You didn’t see any cats did you?”
He shook his head. “Not cats no...those woods just give me the creeps. I mean, more than usual. It’s like I can see the shadows of the trees stretching out toward us like claws, and covering the moor territory. I get such a bad feeling from them.”
The sun wasn’t bright enough to cast such dark shadows from what Tallpaw could see. He hooked his long tail around Briarpaw’s and led him onward. “Any sensible cat would get a bad feeling from there. Well lucky we don’t have to live in it. Let’s just get far away from here--and quickly.”
***
Tallpaw’s march around the territory had gone through the day into dusk. They’d only paused briefly for a short break before they were out again. He’d never walked so much in a day and his head was still reeling with all he had to take in. Dawnstripe assured him he would learn it bit by bit over time. 
The other apprentices greeted him and Briarpaw when they got back into camp.
“Sorry we couldn’t see your first time around the territory with you. We’re nose deep in our training right now since me and Fawn are getting ready for the newleaf race.” Fallowpaw chirped.
Tallpaw cocked his head. “The...newleaf race?”
Shrewpaw snorted. “Yeah, duh! They’ve been talking about it for moons! You spent so much time splashing around in the mud that you didn’t even hear about it?”
“It’s a tradition,” Briawpaw explained. “You know, at the start of every newleaf we celebrate the return of the warm winds by having a whole clan-wide race across the territory.”
“Like our old course around camp, except way bigger and the winner gets a feast and doesn’t have to do the bad chores for two sunrises!” Fawnpaw said. “Mostly it’s about being the fastest, though.”
Tallpaw remembered now, he had heard something about the newleaf race. But his father had told him not to be concerned about it. Just moor runner frivolities.
“It doesn’t mean as much to the tunnelers. You’re already mature for your age, I don’t expect you to get caught up in silly games to see who gets to laze around for a day.” Sandstone had told him.
 Tallpaw hadn’t thought about it as being a big deal. But I’m a moor runner now...so I suppose it is something that matters to me? Frivolous stuff... It was right then the thought he’d been putting off came violently pushing its way to the front of his mind. Sandstone. A familiar feeling of unsheathed claws turning his stomach in knots came back to him. I have to go talk to him.
“Tallpaw?” Briarpaw nudged him. “You look like you’ve just stared down a monster, what’s the matter?”
Tallpaw blinked at him with a start. “Sorry. Nothing’s the matter at all. Have um…” He shuffled his paws. “Have any of you seen my father?”
All four of them looked at each other awkwardly. Their discomfort crept into him, intensifying his own all the more.
“Sandstone? Didn’t Heatherstar put him in time out?” Shrewpaw said.
Briarpaw smacked him on the leg as Tallpaw flattened his ears in irritation. Why did Shrewpaw insist on talking about Sandstone that way?
“Never mind, I’ll find him myself,” he growled, turning away.
 Briarpaw hissed at his brother. “Stop being rude!” 
“What? I just said what happened. It’s not my fault he’s such a--” Tallpaw didn’t want to hear the rest. He was tired of feeling like he was being pulled in three different directions. I just want the cats I care about to get along. Is that so much to ask?
Part of Tallpaw was relieved he couldn’t find his father right away. Would Sandstone be angry at him? Surely he would, he practically hated moor runners. Perhaps I should bring him food...That always puts him in a better mood. Moles were his favorite, and Tallpaw prayed there were some on the freshkill pile. To his immense relief, a hunting party had returned recently. He nosed through the pile absentmindedly and picked up the biggest mole he could find. 
He looked around, still unsure of where to start looking. Where would Sandstone have gone? Perhaps to the eastern tunnel he was always talking about. He always said working calmed his nerves. But Dawnstripe hadn’t covered much about the tunneling system, and Tallpaw could only guess the general area it might be in. He was hoping his father would have already made up with Heatherstar and come back by now. Tallpaw hadn’t even noticed he was pacing anxiously in a circle until he nearly ran muzzle first into Woollycloud, causing him to stumble back and drop his mole.
 “Ah--! Sorry Woollycloud, I-I didn’t see you.” Tallpaw struggled to meet the tunneler's face, afraid of what expression he’d see.
But Woollycloud mostly looked tired, and he regarded Tallpaw with more sympathy than disappointment. “It’s quite alright Tallpaw,” he said. “Are you… looking for your father?”
Tallpaw nodded quietly, unsure of what to say. 
Woollycloud cleared his throat “Well, you’re in luck. He’s talking with Reedfeather now.”
“Is he in trouble?” Tallpaw mewed nervously.
 “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over Tallpaw, its…'' He looked down. “Well, it is all certainly very unexpected. We’re in a rather tough spot at the moment. The project Sandstone and I have been planning for so long has hit a snag, and on top of that Heatherstar just got news again that ShadowClan may have been seen lurking outside their territory on the other side of the Thunderpath. Everyone is on edge, is all. Sandstone and Heatherstar have a bit of a tense relationship, and this came at a bad time. But this is really very normal. Reedfeather and I will smooth things over. Here they come now.”
Tallpaw saw Reedfeather’s brown tabby pelt pushing through the long heather that bordered the camp. Tallpaw dipped his head respectfully as the deputy walked by. Woollycloud started whispering something to him, but Tallpaw’s attention was fixed on Sandstone. 
His father lay stiffly next to the sunning stones near the elders' den. His tail was wound tightly around his body, and his eyes were closed like he was trying to appear at ease, but Tallpaw could plainly see his thin fur ruffled around his neck and his whiskers twitching in the way they did when he got into a bad spat with his mother. Tallpaw knew this look very well, that his father was angry, even if he wouldn’t say it aloud. Like a dangerous undercurrent hidden beneath a deceptively gentle looking stream.
 Picking up the mole he’d dropped and ignoring the heaviness weighing his paws down, Tallpaw forced himself to walk forward. It was like Dawnstripe said, Sandstone was just surprised. Maybe he wouldn’t be angry with him for not wanting to be a tunneler. There would be other cats! He tried to go over what he would say and how to make his father understand, but he didn’t even believe his own encouragement. Before he knew it, he was standing a tail length away with his tongue feeling very dry and useless in his mouth around the mole’s dusty fur. 
Sandstone opened one dark amber eye to regard him. Tallpaw remembered dimly the warmth that used to light up his gaze whenever his father saw him as a kit. He’d lived for that expression. Now those same amber eyes looked fiercely cold and hard, like frost covered stone. But after a couple heartbeats, Sandstone's tail flicked to the side, leaving an open space beside him. Tallpaw let a small bit of relief flood through him. Maybe they could pretend like nothing had happened, and they could just sit and eat together like they often did before.
Tallpaw carefully placed the mole at his paws. “I brought you some prey. I uh...I thought you might be hungry.”
Sandstone eyed the mole, his nose wrinkling a bit. Tallpaw suddenly noticed the slobber that he’d left behind on the ruffled brown fur. He’d unknowingly been anxiously chewing a hole through the side of the tiny animal during his pacing, leaving it looking ravaged and soggy. He winced and scolded himself, Ugh, you useless absolute mouse-brain!
Sandstone cleared his throat and tentatively rolled the mole over. “Did you catch this?” he asked. His tone sounded casual, but there was strain behind it as his whiskers still twitched and his ears were slightly set back with displeasure.
Tallpaw was taken aback. “Well...n-no. We spent all day touring most of the territory, so…” Tallpaw was suddenly second guessing himself. Was he supposed to have been on the lookout for prey during the tour? Was that expected of apprentices? Maybe it was a test, and I didn’t even stop to look once! Did I already mess up my training on the first day?
“Hm.” Was all Sandstone said in response. Tallpaw suddenly wanted to vanish as he wound his anxiously flicking tail around his hind paw to keep it still while his father continued, “If you’d been training in the tunnels with me and Woollycloud, you’d have already caught prey by now. I caught two moles on my first day of training. Mole hunting is a tunneler specialty.”
Tallpaw didn’t reply. He just focused on his tail, curling around his back leg.
Sandstone sniffed. “That’s not your fault, Tallpaw. It’s just how moor runners train. They take things so slow and their apprentices take ages to toughen up into warriors. You got bad luck is all.”
“Yeah, that’s it…” Tallpaw mumbled. “But I can still be a good warrior as a moor runner, right?”
 “You just won’t stand out as much is all, with so many moor runners.” It wasn’t the same as the encouragement he used to give. Sandstone always said his son would be the best warrior in the clan. “But it’s only for right now.” Sandstone added. 
Tallpaw glanced up, clearly confused. His father stared at him like he should know what he meant as he continued, “Heatherstar wants you to start training as a moor runner, and that’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with learning other skills. But you can tell her you want to train in the tunnels with Woollycloud. She can ignore me if she wants, but it’s your training and you’ll never be any good at something you weren’t meant to be.”
Tallpaw curled his tail even tighter around him. “Do you want me to tell Heatherstar that I want to be a tunneler now?”
Sandstone blinked in surprise, then his gaze narrowed at Tallpaw’s hesitant tone. “Isn’t that what you want? You’ve been working so hard practically ever since you first left the nursery!”
Tallpaw opened his mouth, but he just couldn’t think of anything to say that would make this go well. He remembered what he’d told Dawnstripe. I don’t want to be a tunneler, I hate it. It’s stuffy and dark and exhausting, I just want to learn how to run and hunt on the moor.
But Tallpaw didn’t say any of that, instead he said: “I’m just...not good enough to be a tunneler. I’m not as strong as you and the other tunnelers, and my paws aren’t as tough, that’s why...that’s why it’s better for me to settle for being a moor runner.”
Sandstone’s posture immediately relaxed ever so slightly, his familiar rumbling purr rising in his throat that momentarily eased Tallpaw’s dread.
“Nonsense Tallpaw, tunneling is in your blood! Your mother struggled as a tunneler at first too you know, but when she worked at it, she became a fine tunneler! That’s all it takes. Why, if I knew that was what you were concerned about, I would have pushed Heatherstar harder.”
Dumb mouse-brain, you shouldn’t have said it like that, say something else!
“B-but now I've…” Tallpaw faltered, “I don’t want to offend Dawnstripe, she was so excited about getting an apprentice and it’s only been a day. I can’t just leave now, it would be an insult.”
Sandstone rolled his eyes “Oh she’s young, she’ll have another apprentice soon enough and probably forget all about it. But I suppose you’re right…”
Thank StarClan… 
“Even so,” Sandstone continued, “you can’t hold off training for too long just to spare her feelings, it’s better to build your muscles up while you're young.”
He still thinks you want to be a tunneler, just say you don’t! 
Why couldn’t he make the words come out? His father’s eyes were lit up again in that encouraging way he remembered so well, looking more pleased than ever. Tallpaw had to focus hard on stopping his tail from lashing with distress.
“Well I...I will train in the tunnels soon. Shrewpaw’s mentor, Hareflight, told me all apprentices learn a little bit about the tunnels, perhaps...perhaps after the newleaf race?” He said quickly.
“The newleaf race? I’d forgotten all about that silly event.”
“Yeah, er--Dawnstripe wants me to train for it. She thinks I’ll be good at it, and maybe after I’ll have more time…”
Maybe if I show him that I'm just better at being a runner, he’ll give up on the idea and I won’t have to tell him I don’t want to tunnel at all…
Sandstone seemed at least a bit satisfied with that. “After the newleaf race then, we’ll talk about it more. But just remember Tallpaw, born tunnelers usually don’t do so well in those sorts of competitions. It’s just a moor runner's way to show off since they think pure speed is all that matters. It doesn’t do much to show your skill and strength, so don’t let it get to you if you don’t win. I know that little moor-kit Shrewpaw likes to boast about racing and what-not, but it’s just vanity. He really doesn’t have anything else going for him, unlike you. So much like his father in that way.” 
Tallpaw just nodded. Sandstone seemed happier, and he even began to eat the mole Tallpaw had brought. Surely this topic could be held off for a while yet. The newleaf race was at least a quarter moon away, maybe more if he was lucky. He wouldn’t worry about it now. The rest of the evening with his father was pleasant enough as Tallpaw stuffed the clawing grip at his belly further down like he would a thorn under his nest.
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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years
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Harringrove April Day 3- Spring Break!
Billy never really did spring break. He thought it was just a stupid way to flaunt that you were rich and had no responsibilities, neither of which were luxuries he got to experience, and quite frankly, for a lot of kids, it was.
But his senior year, the tops of the class plan a huge (and expensive) trip to Lake Tahoe for the week they have off school, as in the one in California, and he just cannot pass by that opportunity. A school sanctioned trip back to his home state, that’s like a dream come true.
Of course, he’s still got to scrape together the funds to get there, because his dad sure as eggs wouldn’t be paying for a spring vacation that cut into Easter Sunday, but that should be easy enough, considering his best friend is basically a walking bank account who had already been trying to convince Billy to come with him for weeks before they’d announced the trip.
He was pretty sure at this point that Steve would cave almost immediately, and he’s right, because he’s not even halfway through asking him how he was planning on getting to Lake Tahoe before he’s telling Billy that they should fly up together. To Steve, it’s a matter of a couple hundred dollars versus his entire social life being in the toilet.
Or at least that’s what Billy thinks, and that’s exactly what Steve wants him to think, because there’s a third, unconsidered option that he’s just helplessly in love with his best friend and would do just about anything if it meant he got to spend a little extra time with him.
Except when they get there, they don’t follow the crowd of their peers to the hotel they’d all booked, because this is California, the Golden state, the place where Billy Hargrove was born and raised. Their trip was not going to be wasted on skiing with a bunch of drunk kids they hardly even liked. Not when Santa Monica was so beautiful this time of year.
They rent a car, and Billy gives Steve the grand tour of the state for the seven hours they’re in the car. It’s exhausting, it’s cramped, but it’s worth every second to see Billy so proud of the place where he grew up. Steve genuinely thinks he couldn’t be any more in love with him by the time they’re stopping by the Santa Monica Pier in the late afternoon.
Even so late in the day it’s warm in California, nothing at all like a Hawkins spring, and Steve can tell why this is where Billy thrives.
They don’t have long on the beach before the sun starts to go down, but that’s not really why Billy brought him here anyways. He wanted to see Steve’s pretty face lit up by the amusement park lights after hours, wanted to see him smile when they played games in the arcade and revel in the flush on his cheeks from the alcohol he knew how to get without an ID.
They’re walking side by side down the Santa Monica Pier when Steve stops, leaning against the railing to look out over the water. “You know I’ve never even seen the ocean before?”
Billy sidles up beside him, leaning back on his elbows and lolling his head to the side to look at Steve. “Well maybe I can take you surfing tomorrow, pretty boy. We’ve got a whole week up here, bet you’d be a pro after just a few hours.”
Steve agrees, looking away from the water to lock eyes with Billy, a confident little smile on his lips. “I did used to be a swimmer.”
“That right?” Steve nods, and turns back to the view, the sun going down behind the shore line reflecting in his brown eyes. Billy smiles and hums in his throat, “I’d like to see you in the water.”
His smooth talk makes a flush creep up on Steve’s cheeks, and he chuckles, pushing off from the railing. “Come on, B, it’s getting dark. I wanna see this Ferris wheel you told me all about.”
Their tickets cost five dollars a piece, and they board after a short wait, the line much smaller than Billy remembered it being from trips taken up here in the summers of the 1970s.
Every last time the wheel would stop on the way up to let more people board, Steve would grab Billy’s hand, the ride much bigger than he’d anticipated, and Billy’s heart melted a little each time.
At the top, his breath hitches, and Billy asks him, “So? You like it, Stevie?”
“Yeah, it’s- beautiful.” The only Ferris wheel he’d ever even been on was the dinky, broken up one at the summer festival Hawkins held each year, and the view on that thing was just trees and more trees. It was a breathtaking sight.
“Mhm.” Billy rests his chin in his hand and leans his elbow against the bar that’s holding them in the seat, and watches Steve with hooded eyes.
Steve looks downright bashful when he notices, “What’re you looking at?”
“Just enjoyin’ the view.” Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing, looking down to hide a smile, so Billy sits up straighter, putting a hand on Steve’s cheek and swiping his thumb over his bottom lip. “It’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
Steve scoffs in a modest way, like Billy’s words are too much, and it’s cute. He leans over, so Billy meets him halfway, catching his lips in a chaste kiss. He tastes like cheap mixed drinks and California dreaming. One of Steve’s hands finds its place in his hair, tangling in soft blonde curls, and he brings himself even closer, until the ride moves again, and he startles, pulling away with a gasp.
Billy chuckles, and presses another quick kiss to his hairline. He couldn’t be more glad that he was so vulnerable to peer pressure, that the ride was so long and Steve such a romantic.
Especially knowing they had a whole six days left in California before they had to go back to Hawkins, because he still had lots he wanted to show him.
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doudecim · 3 years
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I want to say that 99% of the fics here are on FF.net for I have only recently discovered the wonders of AO3, and I still didn’t dig deep in there to find all the HitsuKarin goodies.
That being said, I will put the list under the cut because this will be one very long post. So, I hope you all enjoy it!
one-shots
A Constant Fascination, by back-in-a-bit. — 'Colour me blood red passionately.' Hitsugaya makes it his personal mission to get Karin to blush. Pity it's easier said than done. In fact, it might just take him a lifetime. [rated T]
A Fall in the Fall, by MeteorLeopard. — This was ridiculous! There she was, just looking at the fish, and the next thing she knows, she's up in a tree being held against her will! And it's all his fault! [rated T]
a little suffering is good for the soul, by the milliner’s rook. —  Future fic. If there are stupider ways to get courted, Karin can't think of them. [rated K+]
A Woman Scorned, by Glowing Blue. — The twisted fairy tale of Karin finding her own invite to the ball, though she's hardly looking for a Prince Charming. [rated T]
but leave the soul alone, by the milliner’s rook. — AU. Death, it's catching. Or: the one where Toushirou and Karin share night shifts at the hospital. And coffee. Terrible, terrible coffee. [rated K+]
Collection, by ichilover3. — A drabble/oneshot dump. Shenanigans, silliness, and sexy-times abound. Also alliteration, apparently. [rated M]
crawl into your shadow, by the milliner’s rook. — AU. There's a witch in this sleepy little village now that goes by the name of Karin, but nothing has changed since she's arrived. Not really. [rated T]
Delirous, by carved in the sand. — Matsumoto finds her captain to be a lovestruck teenage boy. [rated T]
duckling theory, by the milliner’s rook. — The first thing Karin notices is watermelon. Looking back, maybe it should have been startling green eyes. [rated K]
For You, by Glowing Blue. — Death had never been the paradise everyone wished it to be. But then they found each other. [rated T, two-shot.]
frostbitten, by the milliner’s rook. — Set during the time skip. The winter they meet is unkind with snow. [rated K+]
Frozen Moments, by CrazyAce'n'PokerFace. — 101 drabbles/one-shots that give a glimpse into Toushirou and Karin's life together. A love story told in snapshots. [rated K+]
funny valentine, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — I'll be yours if you'll be mine. [rated K+]
humour me, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — True love's kiss. That ought to do it. [rated K+]
i’m high on believing, by the milliner's rook. — For the record, he prefers his plain black shoes to her fancy red sneakers. [rated K+]
ice breaker, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — AU. There are better ways to get found out than making out in a closet and tumbling onto the ground. [rated T]
if my heart was a compass you’d be north, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. Give me a reason to believe. [rated K+]
In Every Season, by Adobo-chan. — A collection of HitsuKarin oneshots. [rated T]
In the Dark, by ichilover3. — It really wasn't anyone else's business. She should be allowed to fornicate with midgets if she wanted to. [rated T]
innocent guilt, by SebonzaMitsuki27. —  AU. Oh, I know! You're a tramp with wings! [rated K+]
Juxtaposition, by Lady Azar de Tameran. — Something within Hitsugaya Toushirou thinks that he may have met his match. [rated T]
keep me in your pocket, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Set during the timeskip. Don't stay out of touch, okay? [rated K+]
Kuchiki Rukia, the Glorified Courier, by MeteorLeopard. — Delivering super-top-secret messages between dimensions is tough work; believe me, I know. If it weren't such a rewarding experience I'd downright refuse to play the messenger. Honestly. [rated K+]
liliputians, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. It's alright, kid. I'm short too. [rated K+]
Lovely Complex, by Unknown lazy ass. — She slyly grinned, “Wow, you really are head over heels for me, aren’t you Toushirou?” [rated K+]
Momo knows Best, by MeteorLeopard. — Sometimes having a meddling older sister... sucks. [rated T]
of halos and wings, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. He had betrayed Hinamori with nothing but his heart. [rated T]
Old Haunts, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. You were just gone, Toushirou, what was I to think? I thought—I thought you'd come back, and you did, twenty years too late. [rated T]
Peeping Tom, by Glowing Blue. — The love story of Hitsugaya and Karin, as seen from open windows and heard through thin walls. "Hisagi's eyes had a tendency to stray." AU. [rated T]
phantasmagoria, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Flickering through black and white, they find their perfect shade of grey. [rated K+, two-shot.]
put down your sword and crown, by the milliner's rook. — AU. When her old man dies to save Ichi-nii's life, everything changes. Days after the funeral, the word Quincy is spoken for the first time, and at five years old, Karin becomes defined by it. [rated K+]
Red, The Colour of Despair, by the milliner's rook. — It was strange how much difference one colour could make. [rated K+]
Revenants, by carved in the sand. — Hitsugaya ponders the ghosts that haunt the girl he still loves. [rated T]
Sports and Sex are Universal (but never the twain should meet), by back-in-a-bit. — Toushirou gives Karin a flat look. "I'm not high-fiving you over sex," he says. [rated M]
Subtle, by nublados. — Toshiro comments on the subtlety that is Karin Kurosaki. [rated K+]
The Art of Asking, by Felix02. — He should have known that her father wouldn't be able to keep a secret, especially from one of his daughters. [rated T]
The Art Of Getting By, by the milliner's rook. — AU. There's some difficulty between juggling flirting, killing Hollows and getting to class on time with the hottest guy in high school, but Karin's certain she'll get the hang of it eventually. [rated T]
The Staircase not Taken, by MeteorLeopard. — Perhaps it was a good thing that the stairs were destroyed, her brother acting demented and a violent fight going on without her just upstairs. After all, the visitor who happened to drop by was worth the wait. [rated T]
the winter sun smiled for things to come in spring, by the milliner's rook. — What is it with you! You're either too young or too old! What the hell! [rated T, two-shots.]
Urahara's Lawn Mowing Service, by MeteorLeopard. — Incorrect phone numbers are a messy business. Even messier though is the business that happens after said incorrect phone call. "Fine, but I bet your girlfriend didn't call back because your lawn needs to be mowed." [rated T]
velocity, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Aim for the goal, and don't look back, no matter what. [rated T]
where angels fear to tread, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — They belong in hell. [rated K]
You Taste Like Birthday, You Look Like New Year, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. She likes his hands, Toushirou notices. Loves them, in fact. [rated M]
complete
lune, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — AU. Me and you and moonlight shivers. [[rated T] other main pairings are ByakuyaHisana, ShinjiHiyori and UlquiorraNel, so beware that HitsuKarin is not the only focus in this one.]
Waterlogged, Wind-chapped, and Sun-bleached. — They grow up together, and the slow progression of their relationship shapes their world. AU. [rated T]
Wendybird Chronicles, by the milliner's rook. — She wonders if they ever had a chance. If they might have missed it, somehow. [rated K+]
on going
Wrong Number, by Lunatasha. — Unknown (10:22): So! I just read all of the conversations I had last night while I was out drunk and thoroughly embarrassing myself and please let me apologise for bothering you (especially as I think you were working if you were in your office?) last night. I mean in hindsight I probably should have stopped messaging you as soon as it was clear you weren't who I was looking for, but drunk me apparently hates sober me so yeah, I'm sorry. That being said thank you again for helping me out even though I must have been bothering you, I appreciate it. [rated T]
Only in Dreams, by TullyBlue. — Brother, she had called him, but he spent the entire meal acting like she was a ghost. Eating with the twins, he can’t even imagine being that cold to his sisters. Yuzu’s laughter brightens his day and that admiring glint in Karin’s eye, that he only catches every once in a while, means the world to him. The so-called brother in his dreams makes Ichigo’s skin crawl. Everything else, though, he wants to see more of, to know more about, to understand. Old, wood floors, a spacious room, flowing black robes, and those swords... [[rated T] other main pairings are IchigoRukia, UryuuChad, GanjuHanatarou, so beware that HitsuKarin is not the only focus in this one.]
abandoned or on permanent hiatus, probably won’t ever post a new chapter again
Blizzard Blues, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. I heard your brother had an eight pack, Captain Hitsugaya! That he was shredded! [rated T]
Catalyst, by Etiena. — With captain-level shinigami in her family, it is no surprise that Kurosaki Karin has potential. But it isn't family which triggers her change. Instead, a chance encounter with a young shinigami captain leads to startling revelations. [rated K+]
Go Against the Grain, by Adobo-chan. — Old law deems that only a son may become the Kurosaki House's next leader. Born from this ancient tradition, a tragic betrayal and her mother's sacrifice, Karin is brought up as Kurosaki Kazuto, the 29th head of the family. [rated T]
oh sinful rose, by the milliner's rook. — AU. Five years after the monarchy is overthrown, a noble finds a forgotten princess in chains. DISCONTINUED. [rated T]
Quandary, by Glowing Blue. — Funnily enough, meeting such a spirited single mother was actually part of his job description. AU. [rated T] (I love this one so much!)
Roommate For Sale, by SavageTrickster. — AU. There are many things in life that she didn't know, but the one thing Kurosaki Karin was certain of is that her overprotective brother is going to blow his top when he meets her new roommate.
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kettlequills · 2 years
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C3: a wife to remember
god i love this fic so much. a03
A hag had many resources at her disposal, not at the least, her fellow sisters of feather, and Moira had a problem. She did not know the Dragonborn, and Moira did not much like not knowing things, especially when it pertained to the fruits of her bargains. The Dragonborn had not seemed adverse to Moira on the basis of being a hag alone, but accepting talons and feathers was quite different from permitting her to actively work her magics. There was too much that Moira did not know.
Moira planned to speak to someone who did.
Moira hauled her smoking cauldron into the garden patch, hissing at the weight and thinking longingly of the corded muscle that had braided the Dragonborn’s tanned brown arms, how easy it would be for them to move a cauldron almost as large as Moira was. She idly plucked a few of her own feathers and added them to the steaming brew until the liquid was thick and purple.
Her arms screamed when she took up the stirrer and laboriously fought it through the viscous liquid. Prickles of sweat broke out on her brow, and she leant her full bird-boned weight into the motion, adding an extra push with feather-fluttering hops. This cursed potion would save her days of pointless travel, but it exacted its price here, she thought irritably. Still, Moira had made it enough times before, if not for many years, that it did not take longer than a few hours before she was dipping salvaged bottles with peeling wine-labels into the mixture.
The bottles appeared largely spontaneously, washing up in the banks of the river not far from Moira’s house from Blood-Made-Pleasure’s daedric revels upstream, within the soft fold of Oblivion. Moira hunted along the banks come the morning for mortals, hollow-souled and blown from the Myriad Realms like scrunched daisies, and the trash from endless parties – human viscera, empty wine-bottles that stung the nose with haunting fragrant scents, fake cocks of shattered glass, snapped dremora horns. Sometimes, the blood-sports of the Prince of Plots bleeding over from the nexus of their shrine not far from the snow-city of Nord kings made their way to Moira’s stream, too. The river ran red for days to her mage-eye, and Moira would be weeding femurs and teeth out of her garden patch for even longer. But since Moira’s pact with Sanguine, his realm was closer, and Moira had more empty bottles than she could ever use.
Greatest power wrapped around your finger, for a single night of revelry.
She uncorked one such with her teeth and swigged from the potion as she labelled the others in spidery daedric letters that would make little sense to one foreign to haglore. When her gums began to prickle with chill, Moira kicked over her cauldron and let the dregs of the potion water her deathbell flowers. She left it there, staring hollowly out at the damp trees, and went to her roost. The potion took hold of the daedra inside her heart and dragged, and Moira’s spirit pierced the skin of Oblivion and rose on flapping raven-wings.
Witchmist Grove shimmered with ghostlike mists when she flew above it, the magic of Oblivion searing the trees tall and gloomy with the prescient tendrils of Moira’s magic soaked into the ground. The roost of a hag, visible as a thorny spot nestled like a canker around the soil. The dragon-cairn over the ridge glowed dully with trapped soul energy.
Not for the first time, Moira overflew her home and cawed at her cleverness. The necromantic energy of the dragon’s old servants and its own aedric glow nearly eclipsed Witchmist Grove, and the lines of power that hazed the ground was broken into the rippling hot pools, confusing the scrying-eye. Her own wards against magical predation still held strong, but she had been wise enough to choose a good spot to make it harder. The Grove would shelter its witch well while her mind attended to her business.
It was the work of a moment to envisage the heart of the plainsland, and a second later Moira was soaring through the cloudless blue skies of Whiterun – crisscrossed though they were by the fading trail of a dragon. Still, that was not too unusual in this season of change, and Moira made for the human city where the answers to her questions resided. It pulsed whitely in her mage-eye, the vast wings of the Skyforge spread over the city like a gargoyle. The eagle shrieked as Moira swept lower, and for a moment, its beady eye fixed on her. Her wings faltered in surprise. After a second that felt like an eternity, the eagle tucked its head back against its chest, satisfied, it seemed, that she posed little threat.
Moira’s talons clenched uneasily. The Skyforge was impersonal as the wind. Last time she had come here in this way, its wings had barely twitched when she’d landed on its head. That it was so riled up did not bode well.
Her disquiet mounted as she flew lower to the city – or what was left of it. Radiating outwards from the pulverised remains of the gates was a blast radius of crumbled stone that had reduced the surrounding timber houses to splinters. A wooden palisade had been erected, manned by guards whose spirits flickered dimly with fear to Moira’s mage-sight. Grief hung over Whiterun like a pall, and, pressing against the wall that separated Oblivion from the living, ghosts wandered dully through the streets, torn too abruptly from their living bodies to look for the way to Aetherius just yet. The living tree within the heart of the city was bowed double under the strength of their sorrow, its roots choked by a strange power crawling down from the heart of the prison of dragons. Familiar, daedric darkness, soft as poetry and suggestive as a whisper. The Webspinner, moving openly to claim the city, and, from the look of it, mostly unopposed. Even Hircine’s Underforge was muted. Well, good for the Webspinner. Moira had never liked Whiterun much.
Still, Moira noticed with some relief the burning-bright soul of the one Whiterun resident that she had come to see. Olava the Feeble was waiting for her, playing cards with a small child that shivered at Moira’s approach.
“Go along now,” Olava told the child, who wriggled in her chair. She had untidy brown hair and looked thin, but there were fresh crumbs on her ragged dress, and smears of jam on an empty plate on Olava’s table.
“But we weren’t done playing,” said the girl, and Olava smiled mysteriously.
“Yes, we were,” she said, and tapped the table between them. Moira saw the magic inside Olava flare, and the child gaped down at the cards in her hands. There was dirt caked under her nails.
“How did you do that?” she gasped. Moira sensed a curious flicker in the girl’s own fledgling spirit, as if she was trying to see as a witch did.
Food for a starving waif, and a light-show of no substance? A more obvious hook had never been planted. Moira cared not for Olava’s interest in a ragged child, but surely it would be easier to simply tell the girl whatever it was Olava wanted from her, and claim she was mad or dispose of her if she broke Olava’s cover?
“Charlatanry,” Moira commented dryly, amused at Olava’s transparent recruitment effort, “You didn’t need to touch the table at all for such a simple trick.”
“An old woman never shares all her secrets,” Olava said to them both, and then shooed the girl off. Once she had gone, perhaps a little faster than she would have if it had not been for the invisible presence of a hagraven glaring at the back of her neck, Moira fluttered down to perch on the back of the chair she had vacated. Her talons gripped the wood, but left no mark on it. She was not, after all, truly there.
“Sister,” said Olava plainly, “What can an old woman do for you?”
“Do you not need to maintain your quaint cover?” Moira asked, electing to preen herself. She tugged an errant feather back into alignment while Olava chuckled.
“Not at all.” Olava’s eyes were crinkled up at the edges and her smile was kindly, as if she really were simply nothing more than an old grandmother. Convincing, were it not for the aura of twisted power that radiated her from her like a dark sun and the way that her eyes were holes to the Void in her skull. “My neighbours think nothing of an old woman talking to herself.”
“As you wish.” Moira spread her wings and eyed them critically, as if it were more important than the task that had brought her here. “I propose a bargain of knowledge. I need to learn hand language.”
What better way to learn the ways of her new … spouse… than to prise them from the Dragonborn herself?
Olava hummed, pleased. “You have come to the right place, then. Which sign language is it you need to know?”
Moira ruffled her feathers. “How should I know?”
“Ai,” sighed Olava, “There is more than one. It would help if I knew who you need it to speak with.”
Flaring her wings, Moira shrieked her harsh raven’s cry. It echoed jealously, ear-splittingly loud. Under the eclipsing shadow of her wings, her true shape flickered and burned like coals. She would not share this knowledge. The Dragonborn was vulnerable, for now, ripe for the uncovering, and Moira would permit no other witch’s claws to steal in on her prize. Bad enough that she shared with Sanguine’s hook, that her own hold was as tenuous as the Dragonborn’s word.
Olava leant back in her seat to watch and rose a thin white eyebrow. Her face, for all it was wrought and wrecked by the passage of time, hid a mind no less canny.
“I can get you the knowledge of all major forms of hand-sign from here to Black Marsh, but it’ll cost you,” Olava relented. “I’ll have to call in a few favours.”
Moira accepted this irritably, and Olava eyed her, as if curious to see how far she would take this whim.
“I want you to … deliver something, for me.”
“Knowledge for knowledge is traditional,” Moira cawed, “I’m not your errand girl.”
“No,” said Olava, calmly, but Moira could see the tension wound in the leylines of her magic, her future-seeing eyes that glowed with the deepness of the Void, “But good luck finding another sister to help you. Did you say it was urgent?”
She hadn’t, but Moira was not patient, and Olava knew it. Besides, Olava’s demeanour was – reluctantly – intriguing. A witch’s errand was no small thing, particularly if she wanted a hag’s help to achieve it.
“Not that urgent,” Moira snapped regardless, because she did not want Olava to think that she did not see what she was doing by pricking Moira’s curiosity. “Out with it, then.”
“I need you to take an item to a particular person,” Olava said, “and ensure that it does not… leave her possession.”
Moira cawed a laugh. “A curse object, sister? Why, I’d almost do it for free. But why not see to it yourself?”
Olava’s hands smoothed deliberately over the table. She began to gather the cards and answered Moira’s question to their dog-eared and scribbled faces. “It cannot be me directly. The target knows me too well, and the spell must work.”
Moira paused. Olava’s carefully level voice roused her suspicion, and as she watched Olava stack the cards and slide them precisely into a bag woven of river-reeds, she grasped that Olava was not dissembling. She was worried. Moira did not lack confidence in her magical strength, but nor was she a fool. She had no desire to get mixed up in something that was going to require too much of her time.
“You have seen something that you hope to avoid,” Moira prompted.
“Yes,” Olava admitted, freely. “Nothing that concerns you, sister. A few fraying strings will soon be cut, and I have a … vested interest.”
Moira stared hard at Olava, who returned her gaze steadily. She was being sincere, Moira could tell that immediately from the glow and pulse of her magicka, and even more, Olava was letting her see without a single attempt to hide herself from Moira’s mage-sight. Whatever it was, it was important to her, perhaps important enough to ask a hag to do a courier’s job, if only to be sure it was done.
“Where is this target?”
“Falkreath,” said Olava and Moira squawked indignantly.
“It is far from my roost,” she complained, but Olava only shrugged.
“You’re the one who asked for something,” she said, and Moira conceded with a whistling hiss through her beak.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see your token delivered.”
“Thank you,” said Olava. She smiled, a genuine one, smaller and slyer than her elderly façade. “I will send you a … friend, on the night of the new moon. He will have what you need.”
Three days. Moira shifted her claws on the chair, then took off without ceremony. She beat her wings quickly to rise over Whiterun, and took the precaution to soar some ways away from the wandering eyes of the powers that wrestled beneath the city. It was only once Moira wheeled freely over the stripped bones of a dead dragon, soul-claimed, that she tucked her wings and followed the thread tethering her to her body, and home.
---
Of course, it was not three days. It was two, and Olava’s friend came yowling with his ear in the firm grip of the Dragonborn.
“You’re early,” Moira said sourly, and the Dragonborn’s mouth tensed.
They wore no helmet today, and their greying brown hair had been roughly knotted at the nape of their neck. It was greasy, already damp from the moist air of the Grove. The rude knot exposed the gruesome fullness of their facial scarring, which twisted as they scowled at the terrified Khajiit whose tunic they held. Still broad, still strong, but there was a bandage wrapped around their bicep, several days old if Moira was any judge, and somewhat dirty and stained. The Khajiit in their grasp was a young ginger tom, his yellow eyes slitted with fear.
“Let him go,” Moira chided the Dragonborn, “Have you no manners?”
Moira did not recognise the boy, but she guessed that he had been sent when he offered her with trembling paws a bag marked with the crest of the Nords of Whiterun, a curling ram’s head.
“For you,” the Khajiit whispered. The Dragonborn’s lips thinned unsubtly, and they stalked off to lean against a tree, their back to the Khajiit but their head cocked, as if they were listening.
The boy’s tail lashed. “This one was not trying to sneak, he swears! He was told to bring a message, to the old woman in the grove by the dragon burial, that is all!”
“I am old, and within the grove,” Moira said, flatly, annoyed that she had not seen him coming, and had time to muster her illusions of being a harmless – if unnerving – old woman who lived alone. She had not sensed the Khajiit at all around the brilliance of the Dragonborn’s signature when they entered Witchmist Grove. “Give it to me.”
The Khajiit hesitated, but when Moira flashed her claws he tripped over himself in his rush to thrust the sack at her. It fell at her feet with a muted rattle. The Khajiit withered under Moira’s poisonous glare.
“Well?” she demanded, and the poor boy’s ears twitched. He bolted, and Moira rolled her eyes. “Let him go,” she told the Dragonborn, whose hunter’s eyes had tracked his flight, “and come in.”
But Moira did not move from her position on the top step as the Dragonborn pushed off the tree and approached her with slow, steady steps, their armour – wrapped for silence, again, in the shredded remains of what appeared to be Nordic burial shrouds – reflecting back the whiteness of the magelight Moira had tethered in the mouths of her staked goat heads. They removed their gauntlet carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, they stooped to pick up the sack and hand it to her.
Feeling as if she were moving thrice as slowly as normal, Moira took it, and her feathers fluttered involuntarily when their fingertips – rough and callused, but hot as fire – brushed her skin. Before the Dragonborn could pull away Moira tightened her grip until the tips of her sharp claws pressed into the back of the Dragonborn’s hand. Scarred, even here, with the nicks and cuts of a lifelong soldier.
The Dragonborn watched her. Those dark dragon eyes were steady as granite, and when Moira stared into them she had the odd sense of falling inwards. It was as if she peered into the implacable gaze of a creature so impossibly huge and dense that it warped the world towards it, as inexorable as a bird struck from the sky must meet the stony ground. She wondered how the Dragonborn would look beneath her potion-enhanced mage sight. She wondered how the Dragonborn saw her.
Moira had the height advantage on them from the top step, but the weight of their gaze was so immense that she felt small, like a darting bird before the maw of a dragon. She remembered challenging the Dragonborn to consummate their engagement the second time they had come to Witchmist Grove. Almost involuntarily, she pictured being pinned beneath that suffocating presence, those dark eyes, that searing heat – the enormity of them like a serpent big enough to touch nose to tail around the entirety of Tamriel coiling itself into one short human body that had to tilt their head up to look Moira in the eyes.
Moira was a hagraven, no fragile thing, her body knitted with ancient magics and raven-feathers, and she had birthed horrors on her altar for little reason other than curiosity. But she was also a bird-hearted once-woman, and the strange, arrhythmic pounding in her chest that could not decide what it felt at the warmth of the Dragonborn’s skin on hers disconcerted her.
With an impatient snort, Moira released the Dragonborn, but not before one last, pointed flex of her claws. The Dragonborn did not flinch at the tiny teardrops of blood that welled up from the scratches, just as they had not reacted to the poison tea, and when Moira turned and stormed into her house, she felt the shaking of the steps as the Dragonborn followed her.
As before, Moira filled the kettle and set it to boil, after checking the sack and tucking it away for later in a cabinet. She was curious to see if the Dragonborn would make the same mistake twice. They did not choose to sit down this time, but leant uncertainly against the wall, arms folded uncomfortably across their chest. Moira was expecting the airlessness of the shack this time and took a moment over the smoke of the fire to soothe herself.
A clinking distracted her, and she whipped her head around in time to catch the Dragonborn leaning back like a child caught going for the cookie jar, hand froze in the act of placing something shiny on the table.
“What’s that?” Moira demanded, and the Dragonborn’s grim mouth moved oddly, as if they were trying to smile.
They gestured sweepingly at Moira, and Moira eyed them suspiciously as she seized this latest offering. It was a bottle, a large one, filled to the brim with glittering dust that shifted and shimmered when she tipped it to and fro, like it was trying to escape the directness of her gaze. The aura that seeped off it reeked of death even with the cap sealed with what looked like leather and home-made twine.
“Blood-drinker dust,” Moira identified. Useful in potions, very useful. Her claws clacked when she tapped the bottle, not wanting to admit that she had nearly run out of her own supply. And she had never had so much as this. It was a handsome gift, and practical, as well. A hag had little use for frippery, after all, even if the Dragonborn’s last gift was currently hidden safely under Moira’s bed and warded with her strongest spells. “You hunted all of these yourself?”
The Dragonborn’s scarred face split, and all of their teeth gleamed. They nodded.
“Is that how you hurt your arm?” Moira asked before she registered what she was going to say, and hissed at herself.
It did not help that the Dragonborn seemed equally surprised at her question, and by the way their eyes flickered to the wound on their arm and back, she imagined they were wondering why she was bothered – or perhaps, had forgotten the wound was there at all. After a brief hesitation, the Dragonborn shook their head.
Moira cursed herself to the Void and back. “How then?” she snapped, aware of the brittle anger in her voice. She wanted to know now. Her curiosity had been piqued, and more than that, there was a strange, restless annoyance Moira ascribed to a healer’s knowledge, impatient with the mysterious wound under its dirty bandage.
The Dragonborn’s shoulders rounded, and their movements as they fumbled for their journal seemed if anything oddly shy. They scribbled for a moment, and then avoided her eye when they presented the page.
“Wolf pack surprised me,” they had written.
“You slay dragons, and hunt vampires, but not wolves,” Moira said. “Did you at least clean it?”
The Dragonborn nodded, and then cleared their throat. They were still looking away, and after a moment, Moira recognised that the fire’s warmth on their cheek was not solely responsible for the redness that had bloomed there.
“Well,” Moira heard herself say irascibly, “Wash your bandages, then.”
Scrubbing the back of their neck with their hand, the Dragonborn nodded. The motion reminded her of their skin touching hers, and Moira busied herself with the kettle, indiscreetly bolstering the fire with magic. The heat enveloped the hut, steaming away the perpetual dampness, and Moira heard the Dragonborn sigh with pleasure behind her. It was nearly noiseless, but not quite, and Moira was hard-pressed to tell whether the shiver that went through her was from some miniature earthquake or the base of her spine, which had elected to, for some reason only daedra knew, play host to half a dozen guttering candles.
“So,” Moira said eventually, “What do they call you?”
Silence, not the scratch of charcoal, and Moira glanced over her shoulder to see the Dragonborn’s confused expression.
“Your name?”
With a metallic creak, the Dragonborn’s arms around their chest tightened, and a muscle in their cheek jumped. They shrugged flatly, and then with a weariness that Moira could almost sense bent their head to write.
“I don’t know the name I was born with,” they showed her, “The dragons call me – “
More of the claw-mark letters of the dragon language, and Moira pursed her lips.
“You know I can’t read this,” she said. The Dragonborn’s mouth crooked helplessly, but Moira’s eye was drawn to the smudges of charcoal on their fingers, exposed, because they hadn’t put their gauntlet back on.
“It comes from inside,” they scribbled, and then illustratively clasped their bare hand over their breastplate. A smear of charcoal darkened the fraying edge of one of the ripped up shrouds.
They shifted, and the shadow of their warhammer blotted the firelight over the page. Moira’s claws flexed, and she wondered, briefly, precisely when the fool bird in her brain had forgotten to watch the Dragonborn’s weapon hovering ominously over their shoulder.
“I could tell you my name, but you’ll have to come outside to hear it,” they wrote. Wariness in them then, and wasn’t that an interesting response to their own offer.
Moira weighed her options. Outside would give the Dragonborn more room to swing, but it also gave Moira better manoeuvrability to escape. It was a gamble, but Moira knew herself. She was a fast shifter, and a faster flier.
“Fine,” she said, and the Dragonborn jerked their chin and led the way outside.
They were not content with Moira’s garden, but crunched their way up the garden path and out the gate without a backwards glance. Their stride was aggressive and quick, a beat short of a march, and Moira got three steps after them on her talons and then gave up and took to her wings instead. The Dragonborn glanced up and with narrowed eyes searched among the flapping cloud of black-winged birds that rose like a fanfare at their intrusion into their domain. Moira circled above them, making no move to announce herself, and with an uneasy twitch the Dragonborn continued.
They had a hunter’s instinct, and as they walked a strange, circuitous route out of Witchmist Grove, Moira realised that they were following and walking on top of the Khajiit’s tracks. She wondered at it as she swept along overhead, doubling back every so often to flit down among the trees and feel the heavy leaves weep their burden of rain onto her glossy feathers.
Did the Dragonborn hope to find the boy, or simply to obliterate his tracks with their heavy boots? To stop Moira from following him, or to ensure he did manage to find his way out of the labyrinthine corridors of twining pine and hanging ivy, the nightshade groves and lurking brambles? The enchanted mist worked well to entrap and ensnare visitors, bringing them to the heart of the Grove into Moira’s clutches. Most had some trouble finding their way out without her blessing. Perhaps the Dragonborn had an abundance of caution, to walk only where it was demonstrably safe to step, in a hag’s home.
Moira appreciated it. Some of the moss she cultivated was rather difficult to grow, and she kept it away from the illusory paths for a reason.
The Dragonborn stopped only when they had reached the boundary of Witchmist Grove, where the copse of trees broke into the steaming hot-pools. The sandy-seared ground rose in jagged humps towards Bonestrewn Crest, where the sleeping dragonbones waited like a scar on the horizon. Squat rocks clumped around the meandering dirt path, and heat shimmered lazily, like Sanguine’s ruby red eye. Tensely, they waited for Moira.
Her damp feathers billowed steam in cross-currents and curls as she backwinged towards the ground, already changing. The Dragonborn did not look away, but Moira saw them blink rapidly as the illusions fell away and it seemed as if there had never been a bird there at all, only a hag, feathered and clawed, perched atop a rock that still, technically, was within the boundary of her grove.
The Dragonborn inclined their head, then purposefully, they planted their feet and turned their back on her. Facing out over the steamy barrenness of Eastmarch, their fist clenched nervously, as if they were second-guessing their decision.
Before Moira could demand an explanation, or taunt them to fulfilling their offer, the Dragonborn spoke.
At first, it was noise. Just noise, like the sound of lightning so deep it rumbled in the bones. A flash of awareness like seeing that stark-white fork in the black sky, and then understanding that what she was experiencing was noise, horribly loud noise, like every drum in the world beating at once, every rock falling, every heart stopping. And then it was power – power like every spell in the world backfiring at once immense and throbbing, power like Moira’s first flight, like the buffeting of the wind under her feathers.
In the ringing aftermath, Moira opened stinging eyes – when had she closed them? – and took in a world unutterably changed. She thought that the Grove had reacted to her presence by thickening the mist, and realised with a strange feeling like falling into the Dragonborn’s eyes that no, the grey smoke in the air was neither smoke nor mist, but dust. Dust, all that was left of all the rocks in the Dragonborn’s path, the furrowed brow of the hill that led up to Bonestrewn Crest. Instead, there was a perfectly carved bowl, wide and smooth as any stone-carved arena. It was perfectly done, steady as if the Dragonborn had simply scooped a section of the world away with a giant spoon. Except for the claw-like, shimmering markings that were chiselled in the wall, markings that matched the Dragonborn’s name in their journal.
It was only then that Moira’s ears made sense of the sounds, and the Dragonborn’s name clicked into her mind like a fact she had always known, but had not realised she had forgotten.
“Laataazin,” Moira gasped, and the Dragonborn – Laataazin – nodded slowly.
Greatest power wrapped around your finger. Oh. Oh. Oh. And to think – all this time, Moira had been angry for his trickery, when this was the prize!
Moira’s feathers quivered, then her shoulders, and then all at once she was laughing. It was a rusty, inelegant sound, more raven-shriek than human, and when the Dragonborn heard it they startled. After a moment, as Moira continued to laugh at the immensity of the gift that Sanguine had given her, slowly, tentatively, Laataazin started to smile back.
It was small, and sweet, and looked like they were unused to it as it was to their face. But it brightened their eyes and took years from their face, and Moira recognised for the first time the winsome, laughing-loud but shy creature that had come calling to her gate in a night of revelry, and offered a ring paid in blood for a hagraven’s hand in marriage.
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Sirene
Featuring snapshots of the three most important road trips in Zemo and John's journey of working together.
Le notti a cercare buone stelle
Ritrovarsi in mezzo a strane sorti
Quanto siamo storti
HARKANSA PASS, ROMANIA
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John loosened his grip on the steering wheel, leaned back into the leather-clad seat with a sigh. He took his eyes off the road briefly to look at Zemo from his peripheral vision. The wind was whipping through the man's hair, throwing it up into a wild brown halo, strands nearly shining golden where it was struck by the sun. Zemo's face had regained some color since their trip started two hours ago. The shadows had faded from his cheekbones and under his eyes, leaving the barely noticeable smattering of freckles behind. He had started slouching slightly in his seat like a cat, squinting against the setting sun.
The trees were whizzing past them, behind them, in front of them. John had wanted to track some of them down with his eyes, a stray bird there, an oddly shaped trunk there, but they sped away as soon as they came, leaving him disoriented and dizzy.
He asked if Zemo was comfortable, and that seemed to rouse the man out of some daydream, who had to blink several times to get the dazed look out of his eyes and process John's question, before nodding. Zemo seemed to struggle with himself, lips opening and closing wordlessly a few times, then came a hesitant question after a while, torn away by the wind, "Do you need me to take over?"
"At the next stop," John replied. The next stop would be a few hours away, but Zemo didn't need to know that. For good measure, he reached over and gave Zemo a little pinch on the back of the neck just to see the man squirm. "Thanks for asking."
"... Likewise."
John tilted his head slightly to make sure Zemo could see his smile.
The road around them was wide enough only for two cars, and that was enough since not many cars came around this road. The sun was setting, the clouds were low. They were paper-thin wisps in the distance, but dark sinking little pieces of debris above his head that looked like concrete rubble. They were so solid and impenetrable that the sunlight clung to their edges, never sinking in, making them a beautiful red. John thought beautiful, beautiful, beautiful over and over again till he thought he would pass out with the wonder of it all, the landscapes he imagined as a child.
In front of them, the mountains were falling away, the sides of the high cliffs were fading, the layers and layers of dirt and rock giving away. John found himself almost missing what had gone, the stupid little yellow trees perched on the side of cliffs, or the huge huge walls beside him as he drove, like they were carving a path through, and how the rays would slip out from the peaks of the cliffs, would splatter the hood of the car in yellow, and they would play with him, mischievous, slipping away into complete grey one second, and blinding him like a laser the next.
Yellow, yellow, like autumn, stretching up and up so high and high that if he lifted his head up all the way to see the tops, he would lose sight of the road. And he'd be so enraptured and hypnotized, eyes held up to the sky, not paying attention to their direction anymore, maybe not even caring.
The road swerved left and right in staccato in front of him.
"It's odd, John, to choose a road like this..." Zemo says.
"It's odd?"
"Not many roads are like this one. Not many roads, especially not roads to deliver vibranium..." Zemo murmured, trailing off. For a moment, the illusion was shattered and John was reminded of the six kilograms of vibranium in their trunk, his soon-to-be shield.
"Maybe odd wouldn't be the right word for it," The other man rectified. He was smiling. "Magnificent is a more apt description."
So the walls were falling now. Beside him, Zemo sits up a bit straighter, leans forward in anticipation. The moment their view clears, beside him, he hears a shaky gasp of wonder- beautiful, echoing his own thoughts.
Zemo looked like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.
It took a few seconds for him to realize that he had forgotten to revel in his own wonder and joy, or throw up his own love to the light, that first experience, the wonder and mystery beyond every singing of it, as your world opened up and drew you in; one gate closing and one gate opening, in a little bubble, a snow globe. He had missed it. He had missed the half-second that would lift the air from his lungs in a roar.
It wasn't the splendid view that imprinted itself into his retinas, it was another man's joy.
He tastes something bittersweet at the back of his throat.
He put his gaze back to the road, continuing to drive, but then Zemo tugged at him insistently. "Stop, stop," Zemo whispered. So he pressed on the brakes, the car rumbled to a slow stop. Zemo reached over, turns the ignition off, and without any other words he opened the car door and steps out.
The crunch of boots on a rock-and-asphalt road was a welcome relief to the hum of the engine. He moved out of the car, went to stand beside Zemo. And that was when he hears.
Everything was silent. Pure silence. Then it began. The wind started to pick up into a howl over the hills, darting through the trees and bushes, and all the around them there was such a loud overwhelming rush of leaves, the groaning and creaking of trunks, that John felt that the world was nearly trembling apart in his hands. The two of them were so minuscule in the large expanse of landscape, yet he felt completely in control.
And in front of him stretched mountains long and unending and ceaseless, fading away into the clouds, and at the closer slope of the valley, winding down roads, the sides were painted with trees, tall towering spikes of green shooting through the land like needles through a needle cushion, so tall that even in the distance they appeared huge, and if you were to stand under one of them you could not raise your head high enough to see the top, the trunks that you could not wrap your arms around, everywhere you looked half your vision would be smothered by wood and bark and pine needles.
They were the most beautiful brilliant shade of hunter green, like oil paint, a stark contrast to the yellow-green of the soft meadows below. That shade of yellow-green was like if he looked at a grass field of canola flowers and backed away far enough until everything blended together. Down in the winding roads, there was a small little farmhouse, red and dainty, its shadow cast long against the ground by the sun's rays. John was reminded, and he looked back, at his own shadow, both of their shadows. A little smile played on his lips as he realized that their height difference was made more apparent by the sunset.
In the distance, the mountains were the pale shade of blue cast over by the clouds. Blue and golden mixed in with the sunlight. Ah. Maybe he had an epiphany then, for John thought, blue. It was blue that he was smelling, blue and golden in the air all around them. He looked to Zemo again. There was the hazy swirl of pollen in the air, settling on his eyelashes and his nose, blown from the flowers down the valley. He was coated with it, that invisible perfume.
John laughed. "Pretty," he said.
"More than pretty," Zemo said. "It's magnificent."
John smiled wider and wordlessly turns to the horizon again.
The sun touched his skin, his face, leaving his back cold. It was just a saturated red bloom across the horizon line now, fading into the mountains. And it became dark so quickly, so soon, that John was surprised when he looked at Zemo once again and saw that the other man's pupils were black and dilated like a cat's. The trees seemed to grow taller in the darkness, stretched by their shadow. The grass shined wet and oily with the moonlight. The world became a lot bigger, as the blackness of earth merged into the blackness of the sky, spiraling into galaxies and constellations above them.
He pointed to Zemo the Big Dipper, the Cassiopeia, and finds Polaris, the true North. They were stars that he'd trace in the war zones, above the sound of gunfire, to get him home. Then the Orion, and to Mintaka, the first star to rise in the constellation. Through all this, Zemo listened silently, occasionally nodding or asking questions.
He draped a blanket over Zemo's shoulders. He let his hands linger there, tracing the edge of the fabric, then slipped one hand under his purple turtleneck, resting at Zemo's trembling hips. There were bruises there, in the shape of his fingers. Some yellow and fading, some new. This was more intimate than usual, tonight, a new game that Zemo wasn't used to. But it would be back to normal in the morning, and John would remember that there was nothing gentle about Zemo, nothing redeemable for all his cruelty and vengeance and loathing. And Zemo would hurt him, over and over, taking him apart bit by bit, only to lie in bed shaking and shuddering, screaming John's name as he came, snarling hurt me, make me feel it, in a twisted form of self-punishment.
But for now, he could savor the moment. Those pretty eyes hold his own, nearly black in the darkness. John knew they were the true shade of brown, pools of honey in the light.
Maybe poison or aphrodisiac would be more accurate, for who he really was.
He couldn't resist - "Pretty."
John didn't need gentle. He's learned that gentleness is only a disguise for something more insidious. He needed madness and sin. Zemo was both in spades, and pretty as a striking cobra.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Zemo laughed hoarsely, but pulled him down into a kiss nonetheless.
Inspiration and images were taken from:
Zion National Park, United States (Utah)
Black Canyon of the Gunnison, United States (Colorado)
Trollstigen, Norway
Transfăgărășan road, Romania
Karakoram Highway, China-Pakistan
Images were taken from Google, not owned by me. Harkansa Pass is not a real location.
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Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.
oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.
let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway. 
The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...” 
this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.
Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”
the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?
The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”
okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.
Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”
this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.
KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).
Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”
Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.
darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.
Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”
Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.
Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”
Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.
jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.
Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”
Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.
Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“
i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.
izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.
In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”
hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.
sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.
Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”
exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.
Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”
this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.
The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”
this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.
an additional few…
Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”
a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.
The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”
somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.
Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’
pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.
some extras & shameless self-promotion
here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)
i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!
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desertdollranch · 3 years
Text
Meet Judith, Chapter 1: The Island
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Judith Blalock’s story begins in London, England.
It was in the early springtime in the year 1587 when twelve-year-old Judith first heard the word spoken: Virginia. 
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After the first time she encountered it, she began seeing and hearing that name almost everywhere around London. And every time she heard it, she understood more about what it meant.
Virginia was not only a name, but the name of a place. A colony across the ocean, in the new world called America. Two years ago, settlers led by Governor Ralph Lane had tried to establish the first English village on the island of Roanoke. Difficult circumstances had quickly forced the settlers to abandon their colony and leave England without a permanent presence in the colony. Now a man named John White was determined to do it right this time--and he needed people willing to sail to Virginia and help him establish that new settlement. If it was successful, middle class families like Judith’s would have the opportunity to become landed gentry.
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Judith’s parents were glad of the chance to leave London. The constant outbreaks of the plague had taken Judith’s three older brothers, all one after the other. She was her parents’ only surviving child, and they were willing to go to great lengths to protect her. 
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Judith felt apprehensive about leaving England forever. She had never been more than a few miles from the place she was born. What would it be like in this new world? What new dangers and adventures awaited her? 
The Blalock family boarded the ship to Virginia on May 8th. Judith turned around one more time to look back at England. She wondered if she would ever see her homeland again. 
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All of Judith’s fears were immediately swept away by the wind and the waves. This was the most fun she had ever had in her life! She spent all day above deck, reveling in the sunshine and fresh air. 
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After nearly three months at sea, the ship arrived at Roanoke island. It was much smaller than she had imagined. The air was hot and humid, and warm summer rains had made the ground muddy. 
This would be Judith’s new home. 
......
Life on Roanoke island was difficult. Growing and making enough food for everyone was a constant hardship. The Secotan people, native to the island, had often been frustrated by how much the previous colonists had relied on their generosity to stay fed. They simply could not, and would not, produce enough food to sustain this new community of immigrants. 
Governor White left the island a few weeks after landing, intending to return from England as soon as possible with more food supplies.
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Judith felt as if she were tired and exhausted all the time. With so little to eat, she never had enough energy to finish her chores. 
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Supper most nights was always a small slice of bread. Wheat was difficult to grow on the island, and so it had to be rationed until Governor White brought more. 
Winter came quickly and harshly.
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December was cold and wet, with rain and snow. The cows stopped producing milk and the chickens stopped laying eggs. Judith was able to gather a few mushrooms that the Secotan had designated as safe to eat.  
Quickly enough, all the mushrooms close by the house had been eaten, and so  on one cold and cloudy morning, Judith had to venture farther into the trees to find more. She followed as much dry land as she could, avoiding the marshy and muddy areas.
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Soon, she came upon a clearing. In the clearing was a circle of mushrooms.
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How strange, Judith thought. She remembered hearing stories about mushroom rings in England. Some people thought they were portals to the fairy world. Others thought they were gateways into the past that would let one rectify the mistakes one made long ago. 
But Judith remembered that she wasn’t in England any more. There were no fairies here. And if the Secotan thought that mushroom rings were significant, they certainly hadn’t shared any knowledge with the colonists.
Besides, she was was hungry, and she knew these would make a delicious stew. She picked all twelve mushrooms and put them in her basket. 
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As she turned to follow the path she had made in the forest, she noticed something else that was very odd. 
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Her footprints in the snow were gone. 
She was sure that she had walked here coming in to the forest. No snow had fallen in the short time that she was gathering the mushrooms. She began to worry that she was lost. She tried to put the missing footprints out of her mind and just head back home going the direction she knew that it was. 
But something was wrong in the village. 
It was empty.
There were no people, no animals.
All the houses were overgrown with weeds and vines. Roofs had collapsed and walls had crumbled.
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Her own family’s home was in ruins. 
Judith began to panic. Had everyone left the island without her? But how could they have done that in the short time she had been away? 
She walked from house to house, trying to find any clues to explain what had happened. 
All she found was one fencepost with the word “CROATOAN” carved into it.
Croatoan was the island south of Roanoke island. She knew that. But how could they have left so quickly? And why were all the houses in ruins?
She thought perhaps it would be best to visit the Secotan village and ask what they knew. But she didn’t know their language, and she wasn’t sure if any of them spoke English. 
Judith dragged a small rowboat down to the shore. She would have to get to Croatoan on her own. Whatever had happened while she was gone..... the answer must be there. But her efforts at that quickly failed. No matter how hard she rowed the boat, it just kept getting pulled back to shore by the tide. 
She didn’t what to do next. There was no food here, and nothing to keep her warm at night. Leaving the island was impossible. Maybe she would have to beg the Secotan to take her in. 
She began to cry. She wished she had never left England at all. She stared out at the eastern horizon, wishing she could at least see her home from here. Maybe that would be enough to give her hope.
Through her tears, she thought she could see something that might be England. 
But was that--a ship? Approaching the island? 
It was a ship! Had her family and the other settlers returned to find her? 
Or was it a different ship entirely? Judith ran back to the village to gather some dry wood from the crumbled houses. She quickly made a fire on the shore in view of the ship, hoping to get their attention. 
Soon she was on board the new ship, and in the hands of a team of pirates. Most of them were girls not much older than her.
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“How did you get to Roanoke island?” the captain asked her.
“With the other colonists from England,” Judith said. 
“Is that true? There haven’t been any colonists living there for seven years,” said the captain. “They left in 1587. I don’t know where they went after that. Maybe back to England.”
Judith explained what had happened to her. The ring of mushrooms, her absence from home for only an hour, and how everyone had disappeared while she was gone.
The captain nodded then shrugged. “Maybe when you stood in the mushroom ring, you entered a doorway leading to seven years in the future,” she said. “I’ve heard of that happening sometimes, especially in the Bermuda triangle. The closer we are to that area, time behaves more strangely.” 
“How do I go back to my time?” asked Judith.
“I’m not sure,” the captain replied. “Why don’t we take you to Croatoan and see what you can find out there?”
The ship turned course and began to head south. The islands were only 60 miles apart. The voyage there wouldn’t be long. Judith stood and watched Roanoke island get smaller and smaller, and then disappear.
In the open water, there was a sudden crash of thunder and lightning. 
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The waves rose up and tossed the ship around. Judith was swept overboard. She watched the pirate ship sink as she clung to a piece of wooden debris. 
All through the night, she was carried by the waves. She didn’t know which direction she was going. 
When she woke, the sun was shining down upon her.
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She was lying on a sandy seashore. 
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She stood up and looked around. Was this Croatoan? 
Looking inland away from the shore, she beheld an enormous mountain in the distance. Around it were scattered quaint villages with houses, and farms, and animals. She could see smoke arising from chimneys, and hear the sound of children playing.
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No, this couldn’t be Croatoan island. Was it England? Had she been carried back home? It couldn’t be England, either. That mountain was taller than any she had ever seen. 
She shook the sand from her shoes and her skirts, and began to walk toward the village, finding a narrow winding road leading away from the shore. She was terribly thirsty, and her stomach felt empty. 
A young girl passed her on the road, going the other way. 
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“Good morning,” said the girl. 
“Good morning,” Judith replied. “Begging your pardon, but what is the date today?” 
“Today is the 23rd day of April, the feast day of Saint George, who slayed the dragon.”
“And what year, may I ask?”
“The year is 1517.” The girl looked at Judith with a kind smile, and glanced at her wet shoes and skirts. “But I’m sure it’s different where you come from, isn’t it?” 
Judith did not reply. She looked again upon the tall mountain that had not gotten any closer in the hour that she had walked. 
She had traveled back in time, that much was certain. She wasn’t sure how, or when, that had happened. 
But she had gone much too far back. 70 years. Not 7 years! 
What would become of her in this strange place? 
How would she ever find her family now?
.......
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