#its been so many years since i heard her echo logs

[sl33paholics]

Once Upon An Us

This new series I'm currently starting is a current passion project of mine. I really want to show my baby boy Santana some love (since you rarely see him mentioned in anything on here or at all). This series will be updated every Friday. Almost everything in here is fiction (yes, including the names of places n tribes n whatnot). Refer to this post here to see the jist. Other than that, enjoy :P

Chapter One here

Prologue.

In the heart of the dense, emerald-hued rainforest of Narroranna, the rhythmic pulse of tribal drums echoes through ancient banyan trees. The Bright Arrow Horde, stewards of nature's secrets, gathers beneath the celestial hood. As the elders weave tales of ancestors who communed with spirits and danced with the elements, a shadow falls upon the horizon. Unseen forces stir, challenging the delicate balance between tradition and an encroaching modern world. Little do the people realize that the choices they make will shape the destiny not only of their tribe but also the delicate tapestry of the natural world they call home.

The elders, their weathered faces etched with wisdom, recount tales of the first Bright Arrow, an ancient warrior said to have harnessed the lightning's fury and spoken to the spirits of the forest. As the tribe listens, the youngest among them, Y/N, felt an arm snake its way around her shoulder. She turned to find her father, Karey. "My little star," he murmured. Her skin prickled as if electricity crackled beneath his touch. "These stories have been passed down to generation to generation. The Great Ancestors have blessed our tribe." His words were meant for her ears alone, but she knew it was meant for all of the Bright Arrow.

As the elders started their chant around the fire, their tones got more urgent, the air charged. They spoke in voices like thunder. Y/N strained to understand, but every word seemed drowned out by an ocean of sound. Staring into the flames, she saw sparks shoot up from the wood, lighting the shadows dancing on the walls. It felt like something had crawled up from the depths below, crawling toward her, until she felt the weight of another presence hovering over her head.

Y/N tightly gripped onto her father's arm. He looked down at her, concerned. "Are you well?" She shook her head. "What are you seeing?" Another shake of her head. He held her tighter. "Do you want to leave?" She nodded. He smiled sadly, squeezing her hand. "Then stay close to me." Karey took Y/N out of the circle of elders and led her outside.

The night sky was blanketed with a thick layer of clouds. A sharp breeze whistled past, sending droplets of water flying into the darkness. Y/N and her father sat next to each other on a fallen log by the shore. Y/N wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them tight. "Father," she whispered. "What's happening inside?" He reached out and touched her face gently. "You don't need to worry about it right now, my star." Y/N looked away. "You're young... you're only 14 years old, my little star. You'll get older and wiser and be able to see things much differently than your peers." His gentle smile made Y/N feel so safe. She didn't know what to say. "For now, you should focus on your studies and learning how to hunt and grow crops..." He paused.

"And finding love."

"Love?" Y/N asked.

"Yes. Love is what keeps family strong. It makes us stronger, too. And one day when you're older, you'll know how true it is." Y/N looked away and bit her lip. She'd never thought of it that way. But the truth seemed obvious now. Father was right. Y/N would know the answer soon enough.

It's been nine years.

Y/N walked past the circle alongside her mother, Nayeli. She heard her mother let out a huff as she continued down the path. "I remember those days," her mother spoke quietly.

"You around circle with those other children many moons ago, oh my, how time flies," Her mother said with a chuckle. "Now you're all grown up." Y/N nodded in agreement with her mother's statement, but there was no denying the truth behind it. In fact, she felt quite grown up herself now, at twenty-three years old, but Y/N's mind was consumed by thoughts of the future, of where she was going next, what life would be like when she wasn't surrounded by the people she grew up with. Even thinking about love had never really occurred to her.

She followed her mother down a small hill that overlooked the village. "Mother," Y/N said tentatively. "Will I meet anyone special someday? Someone special enough to marry?" Her mother stopped walking. The wind blew harder, causing her dark hair to whip against her face. She pulled it back with her fingers before answering. "There is someone." Y/N swallowed hard. Why was this such a big deal to her mother, anyway? "Who is he?" Y/N asked. Her mother sighed. "That is why we've waited so long. We wanted to tell you first. He comes from a noble family."

Y/N couldn't help but stay silent throughout the rest of the walk 'a noble family...?' just hearing that made her heart thumped hard in her chest. Upon entering the wigwam, she saw her father across a man and a much more middle-aged male.

Their eyes met, and the moment stretched out for Y/N. Suddenly, the room felt small, suffocatingly hot.

Soon, the three were now sitting in front of the two men.

Their heads bowed forward in respect, waiting for a reaction from the two. "Y/N, this is Chief Alo of The Golden Ribbon Children and his son, Kele."

Y/N smiled politely, offering a small bow. The younger male grunted and crossed his arms as if to refuse the offer of introductions. Y/N was relieved. It felt awkward. She wasn't used to being around people her own age. "We've been told out of many of the women he's introduced to his son, none of them seemed to suit him," her mother said, "but Kele has agreed to accept you as his wife. We've given you the proper ceremony."

Kele glared at Y/N. His dark brown eyes looked almost black. For some reason, that irked her. How dare he look at her that way? She glanced up at her father. He stared back, unblinking. She swallowed hard, hoping her nervousness wouldn't show through her expression. "When exactly are these ceremonies, Chief Alo?" she asked.

Chief Alo chuckled. "Well, you mustn't be too impatient. There's nothing wrong with a few more cycles to settle down, you know." Kele shot him a dirty look. Y/N fought off a smile. Her mother cleared her throat. "Perhaps give us two months? That sounds fair, yes?"

Y/N nodded slowly. Two months sounded good. It was better than being married to a stranger. She would have to learn to live with Kele, after all.

After all of the conversation and arraignment, they said their goodbyes and left. Y/N sat there in silence beside her father. Neither had anything else to say. Eventually, she broke the silence. "I don't think I could go through with this, father." Her voice wavered with emotion. "I mean, marrying a stranger? You told me nine years ago that I should find the one that suits me best. An arranged marriage? How could you and mother do this behind my back...?" Her words tumbled out quickly, spilling forth from deep within her soul. Her father's face softened. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, child. This was bound to happen someday. The Great Ancestors have brought this upon us."

"How can you be so sure?" she cried. Her father hesitated. He stared off into the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed far away. "Because I'm sure that this will bring great happiness to our tribe, to you and your siblings. This will be a blessing." He squeezed her shoulder. "A blessing? To be married off to someone I don't even know? What sort of blessing is this?" Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She tried to hold them back, but she was helpless, sobbing uncontrollably, not noticing as her father wrapped his arms around her.

She hoped that soon things would fall apart.

[bardic-tales]

Loneliness

Title: Loneliness

Word count: 607

WIP: Cold as Ice

Warnings: Depressive Thoughts

Premise: Old Mum reminisces on what it was like as a younger woman during the Festival of Fire.

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LONELINESS

1.

The aging woman stared into the fireplace. She watched the blaze leap and dance, the flames kissing the log as it swirled in its mystical sway.

Outside of the crackle within the hearth, the home was silent. How long had it been since the young master and mistress each ventured from the Covelli estate into the world? When they were little, they would stay with her as their parents attended the festival — the seductive dance around the pole filled with colorful ribbons — in the valley.

As they govern over the duchy, societal obligations expected Master and Mistress Covelli to exchange a set of white flower crowns and offer a devotion to the chief vener and venera to start off the festivities. She could never imagine how it would feel to have so much depend on her. Old Mum would never wish to change her life with one of her employers. She was comfortable as a wet nurse, taking care of the children.

She picked up the silver-plated chalice and briefly glimpsed the old woman in the reflection. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the person: the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deeply set, the beige tunic hung off her thin frame, and silver strands of hair sparkling in the dim light glowing from the fireplace.

There was a time when I would not have been alone this night, she thought. She frowned, the wrinkles around her mouth defining more as if they were rivers darting down her face. Time eroded the human spirit as it rose the great mountain surrounding Olessa.

Before the Mistress bore the Duke his twin children, Old Mum would have asked permission to leave to attend the Festival of Fire and flitted between suitors. Each vied for her attention. She could never choose between them.

How long ago was that? A decade or two, surely. Once more, time stolen joy from her, as it had a tendency to do for other people. Old Mum had never considered herself special in that way. She was only a woman who looked after other people’s children.

Her body ached for companionship. She slumped her shoulders forward and rested the silverware on the immense, oaken dining table. Her beauty faded many years ago, and she knew she wouldn’t attract the people she had in her youth.

She heard footsteps on the other side and a paper slip beneath the bottom of the door. Old Mum wondered who it was for as she and other servants were the only ones presently within the estate.

Old Mum walked over to it. Her footsteps echoed in the vaulted ceiling as she quickly crossed the space between her and the door. She picked the letter up.

Someone had folded over the thin paper and secured it with a large glob of crimson candle wax. It was obvious to Old Mum that the author did not mean the seal to hold long, and seeing as she was the only occupant of the room, they meant it for her.

With trembling fingers, she broke the seal, cursed her hands’ shakiness, and read the contents.

My Dearest Annalise. Tonight is a night to celebrate the love and desire we feel for one another. On the stroke of midnight, find me in the chapel where we discovered how we felt for each other all those years ago. I await you with bated breath. ~~F

Old Mum smiled. Thoughts of this man always brought a smile to her face. He was the only one that she chose all those years ago. She also cursed the fact that the Master also employed him and forbid relationships between his staff.

[animusmelodiam]

I’m rewatching a few episodes of The King’s Avatar because i want to rewatch a few specific scenes. In rewatching episode 11, i got to the part where Huang Shaotian chases down the random guy to steal his sword, and all i can think of now is Patricia Tannis from Borderlands who let a guy die so she could take his chair because it was better than her own.

[nuttynutcycle]

Ding-Dong Ditch

The village dwelled around the hole without thought to its origin. Fondly called ‘the Ditch’ as a joke by locals, the pit was wide and started as a gentle slope before an abrupt dropoff. The rare visitor travelling through town marvelled at the pale grey colouring and unknown depth, but the locals only shrugged in response. The pit was nothing new. A trash dumping ground for many and artistic inspiration for others. The saying, ‘Respect the pit; fear the pit.’ was favoured by the elders and happily mocked by the younger villagers.

“No one really takes them seriously,” I remarked as I skirted around one such elder chastising a child for tossing her socks into the Ditch. “It’s just a big hole. I don’t get why the elders idolize it.”

“Freddy, it’s the mystery of it! Haven’t you ever been curious?” Friends since we were both caught swiping pies from Shopkeeper Barcle’s stall, Archie trailed behind me with a cocky grin aimed at any girl he saw nearby. His sharp eyes promising trouble were enough to lure the dumber ones.

“Nah, I care a lot more about reality.”

We ducked around the last of the market stalls. “Could become a reality.” Archie said in a fake whisper.

I raised a brow and looked towards the Ditch. “Yeah? How so?”

Archie grinned. “Legend says the hole was used for trapping criminals and lowlifes. If enough pile-up, they’ll be back for vengeance. Ma said she’d toss me in with the rest of ‘em if I got caught stealing again.”

“My brother told me it was a listening tunnel, and I should tell it all my secrets.” I laughed. “Course, this was before I knew how well the sound echoed around there.”

“Like when Moray snogged Olive on the slope? I learned new sounds women make that night. They echoed everywhere.” Archie tugged at some grass brushing his leg, twirling it absentmindedly. “You could probably wake the whole village if you threw some noisemakers in there.”

I raised an eyebrow. Archie winked.

Two hours later, we were on the slope with bells in our hands and shit-eating grins plastered on our faces. We puzzled over the best ways to keep them all together. Archie wanted to use glue, but I reminded him that we were both impatient bastards with no patience. Rope was more efficient. The result was a smash of bells, tins, cups and anything else we could find.

The moon was bright and full, casting a pale glow over the land. Archie wiped a hand through his ruffled hair. “That took forever. But it’ll be worth it.”

“Legendary. Years from now, they’ll be telling their kids about the weird sounds they heard from the Ditch one night.”

“They’ll ask, ‘Ma, tell us that one story about the Ditch.’”

“And Ma will answer, ‘Well Moray and Olive loved each other very much-‘” I broke off snickering as Archie gave me a shove.

“You just wish it was you and Olive on the slope.”

“Whatever,” I turned and hoped the shadow would cover the blush in my cheeks. “Let’s toss it.”

“And then run.”

I wound up and flung the contraption against the other side of the pit. It ricocheted with a deafening clang before gravity tugged downward. I watched for as long as I could and enjoyed how the noisemaker bounced off jutting rocks, adding extra echoes to the chaos. Archie plastered his hands over his ears and gestured for us to go. We ran into the forest across the village, laughing as lights flickered on in the windows.

“Satisfied?” I yelled.

Archie gave a triumphant grin without removing his hands from his ears.

It was another thirty seconds before our ears stopped ringing. My nerves were buzzing, the adrenaline coursing through my veins giving me the high I longed for. “Look, Archie! See how they’re all awake and scared? Running in their nighties because of us?” I crowed into the night and jumped at a low-hanging branch. “Legendary bastards!”

Archie plunked down on a log and gave a laugh. “That was exhilarating. My hands can’t stop shaking.”

We’d done riskier things than that, and Archie was never bothered before. I spared a glance at his hands. They weren’t trembling.

“Arch, what’re you on? Your hands-” I trailed off as I looked at Archie.

The log he was sitting on, no, the whole ground was trembling. My glee faded when a scream across the Ditch split the night.

“Freddy...?” He faltered.

I dropped to the ground and ran for the edge of the treeline. Almost the entire village was gathered at the edge of the Ditch in their nightclothes, half-awake children clutching their mothers and swaying with the ground. The Ditch was shaking and the colour, familiar as the back of my hand, had changed from pale to dark grey. The air left me in a slow exhale.

Archie caught up to me. “Well shit. Should we go out?”

“You joking?” I hissed, drawing back into the trees as one of my neighbours glanced our way. “I don’t want to be legendary for this.” Whatever this was. “Let’s circle around and join them. They won’t know we had anything to do with this.”

Archie nodded his agreement. We stayed low and relied on the dim light covering our moving shapes through the thick trees. I kept an eye on the Ditch and the growing crowd.

One of the braver shopkeepers, Kendal, decided to slide carefully down the slope, waving back those telling her to stop. The slope levelled out before the dropoff and Kendal stopped there before sliding onto her belly. She inched forward and peered into the hole before jerking back. The Ditch began shaking in earnest. “Run!” I could barely make out her yell as the other villagers scrambled backwards.

Archie tugged at my arm. “Freddy, maybe we should-”

A hand reached out of the pit. I froze as my eyes locked onto a scaly arm as thick as the trunk at my back. The arm was attached to a similarly scaled torso, which was led by a reptilian head. It pulled itself up and looked towards the village- tall enough to see the tops of our homes. A tail swished from behind. “You woke me.”

My neighbours froze.

“I did not want to wake.” The thing had a gravelly voice.

Shopkeeper Barcle stepped forward and said something I couldn’t hear. Archie clutched me tighter. The creature began its ascent up the slope with a sharp twitch. “The sound impaired my hearing.” It reached the top and dropped something to the ground. I shuddered as I saw the mangled remains of our creation. “This is an act of violence and I will repay it as such.”

“We didn’t wake you! You woke us.” Kendal’s voice was broken by a tremor. “And we-“

The creature’s tail whipped out and flung Kendal to the side with a crack. Villagers scattered with a scream as the creature lumbered toward my home.

No. “Wait-“The words escaped me in a rush of breath. I ran out from the trees and skidded to a stop behind it. “Wait! Please don’t do this.”

The monstrosity turned to face us. Its eyes were the same colour as the hole had been.

“Freddy…” Archie whimpered from the trees.

“There are innocent people here. Children live here! You can’t just…” My voice faltered at the thought of the destruction this thing could cause, at my people hiding in their homes.

“Wrongs will be made right,” the creature turned its head and I flinched at the sight of blood trailing down the side- the visible consequence of my noisemaker’s song. “One of my senses is damaged. I will not argue this any longer.”

“I did it. Not them.” My knees shook as I sank into the damp grass. “Please don’t destroy my home.”

The creature stopped and turned around, eyes narrowed to slits. “Why.”

“It was a joke. A stupid prank. We-I didn’t know you were down there. I’m sorry.” Thoughts of my family, Olive, and Archie flooded my mind. “Kill me and not them.”

The creature studied my kneeling form. “My race honours justice, and justice says reparation is due.” It paused before gazing at the moon. “But what is nobler than sacrifice to protect those you love?”

I glanced up.

The creature gave a huff of its scaled shoulders before slowing sitting down on a null. “I will honour both by giving one hour to leave this place. Then I make the land uninhabitable for centuries to come. And you,” the thing pointed a scaly finger at me. “Will be my ears.”

My hands subconsciously rose to cover my own. “I don’t-“

“You will stay and listen until I slumber again.”

If the village was razed, everyone would leave. “How will I find my family after?”

The creature’s tongue flicked out from its mouth. “I would suggest you accept before I change my mind.”

I looked up to see Archie join the rest of the crowd watching us. I opened my mouth in a half-question, half plea to stay. My heart plummeted when Archie tightened his lips and turned towards the village, jogging to keep up with the rest of the crowd.

The creature followed my gaze with a knowing tilt of the head. “Sacrifice is its own kind of love, even when unjustly portioned.”

I pushed down the rising anger at Archie’s cowardice and watched his back until he vanished from view. My best friend didn’t spare me a second glance.

Legend and bastard, indeed.

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bards Sister  Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (12/14)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

It was one of those days where Levi could barely focus.

But it wasn’t anything new. A few days a year, his eyes would be heavy, his back would slump naturally and codes would blur together in some strange way even the most experienced engineers wouldn’t understand. Those days, he had attributed it to exhaustion, to sheer workload or the tension that accompanied impending releases.

It feels a little different. It was terribly unfamiliar and Levi could have almost sworn that it was worse than ever.

Still, he attempted to get back some inkling of control. He opened his workflow tracker, saw green then decided he could consider his priorities later. He opened his checklists and saw meaningless black ink on white spaces then he decided he could start elsewhere.

He opened up a few pull requests, only to end up approving a whole lot of them before even making sense of what fix the developers had been working on. Then, he then assured himself that maybe he could fix errors on the code once they were in production.

It isn’t good practice. A part of him warned. Really, how many times had he heard that from everyone else? How many times had he held those words like a badge and repeated them countless times to his fellow engineers?

But really, how did anyone particularly Erwin, the upper management, the executives, expect him to work after the meeting just that morning. They had dropped a bomb, a very painful truth that he had somehow managed to keep snug, almost invisible at the back of his mind for so many years.

The company ran on too much red tape and officialism. Hell, every fucking comapny ran on red tape, officialism and some tacky version of bureaucracy, all intricately engineered to please the richest stakeholders. Yet, Levi had been working corporate for decades, long enough to learn and just blindly accept them as inevitable parts of work.

Then and there, it was biting him in the ass. So painfully. Levi never expected something as grey and monotonous as office work and corporate politics to bite so painfully.

Ninety five percent chance. Erwin never told him the details of the contract termination but he had some consideration to at least inform Levi that Zeke was very much considering it. In that same meeting, he had casually mentioned the amount of time it would take to finalize it. If Erwin did tell him some specifics, Levi probably didn’t hear it, especially when he had been busy only barely keeping himself together.

Levi soon figured out, although he had been accepting them the whole time, a huge part of him would have gladly rebelled.

By god, he hated bureaucracy, he hated corporate synergy, he hated the concept of investor satisfaction. Most importantly, he hated the whole prospect of everything the past few months ending with some signed contract termination.

And the silent rage continued well inside him, as he mindlessly switched from one tab to the other, unable to make sense of much.

Maybe he had been too busy reflecting, entertaining those very unwelcome emotions.

Was he too soft hearted. Was he taking his job too personally demanding some personal closure? Was he too immature having been so emotionally affected by that memorandum? And maybe that inability to let out anything more than some professional query at his manager had him barely coping.

‘Coping’ came in many forms. It involved the slow realization he was merely an employee, albeit a head of an engineering team. Then another realization soon after that he was in no position to question the upper management’s decision.

It involved a very cruel realization that although he was the head of the emotions alarm project, the one who had developed it from the beginning and the only one who knew the application end to end, the emotions alarm was still corporate property.

By extension, by some fruit of corporate processes and the constant exchange of assets, it was Zeke’s property. All the assets, the codes Levi had created, the pull requests he had reviewed and merged, every long night he spent looking over bugs, had all been because he was paid to do it.

Zeke’s property. He acknowledged those two words and they echoed incessantly in his head as his eyes ran over the codes of the emotions alarm.

The emotions alarm wasn’t his. It was the companies. And when the contract is finalized, it would be all Zeke’s and Zeke would be the one to decide for himself how to work with that application.

Hire another head engineer to work with Hange… Hire other coders… That’s what business is.

He and Erwin had talked for a while after the meeting. Erwin had been careful with his words and maybe he had softened his tone just a bit, as if he had sensed Levi’s discomfort.

In his own state though, Levi could only stumble upon one conclusion. He was just as replaceable as every other employee. And the pain of having been too attached to a project, the impending loss of his own brain child had him catatonic.

Any comfort or attempt at alleviation seemed far off.

He wouldn’t be invited to the rest of the meetings. The fate of that project would be up in the air, mulled over by the top brass of the company, a few lawyers and accountants, then approved by Zeke. Levi on the other hand, would be ordered back to his office to focus on other tasks, expected to function like it hadn’t felt like some slow and painful end of the world, since the incident at the school a few weeks ago.

Any silver lining as he worked was shot down by his cynical side. The next few minutes, he continued to work, just for the bare minimum to get paid. He approved leaves here and there, He mindlessly looked through some code, ran a debugger he didn’t completely understand. He mindlessly scanned through the logs before he accepted, his brain was in no state to work.

Then he opted not to think beyond that. He closed all the windows on his desktop. He opened another folder towards the corner.

His own personal folder. Inside it were the same codes for the emotions alarm he had worked on for Hange’s birthday. But it felt like more of a personal project.

In its own little way, it pulled it out of that catatonic state. By some miracle, the gears of his head were turning again, slowly at first. Then they turned more quickly by the second, sending a rush of motivation through him. Maybe because the upper management still didn’t know about that side of the emotions alarm. Maybe it was because it still felt like a secret between him and Hange. And somehow, his mind was able to twist it. Levi had managed to convince himself, it was still his and Hange’s.

Hange is still here. She’ll come back.

"You know, I'm pretty sure conference rooms are for conferences.”

Levi bit back the surprise at Petra’s sudden visit. "Well we have five empty ones," he said. He had been working in empty conference rooms for weeks already and had silently rehearsed his own explanation already.

"You have your own office," Petra said.

"I know," Levi answered nonchalantly. Maybe most other days, he would have attempted something more engaging.

How engaging could he be though when his own brain child was close to being sold to an investor, its fate completely out of his control?

By some stupid corporate rule, he couldn't tell Petra that just yet. He looked up at her, willing himself to make some meager excuse of eye contact. "You need anything?"

Petra shook her head. "It’s not really work related… Or actually it kinda is... If that's okay… If you're busy I can bring this up another time." She was holding her work laptop closer to her, a subtle move that had been enough to catch Levi’s eye.

For just a second.

Levi looked back at the code. A wave of guilt washed through him when he remembered, it wasn’t necessarily productive work— a very temporary wave of guilt that he easily washed off just recalling the overly reverent attitude the executives had towards corporate processes.

He wasn't busy. The code he had been staring at the past few minutes wasn't company business anyway. "This can be finished later," Levi said as he lowered his laptop screen.

Petra cocked her head to the side. "Boss, are you okay? I noticed you haven’t been working in the office in a while and I know you---”

“The office is a mess,” Levi said. “And I just haven’t had time to clean up.”

“You need help?”

“No.”

“If you’re busy, I could--”

“Petra, it’s my mess to clean up.” He probably had said that last part too abrasively. After all, that mess referred to multiple messes at once and he was more than a little salty about that.

There was a flash of surprise, or maybe hurt in Petra’s face. Levi only had his peripherals to hint for himself how she might have felt. He sighed. “I don’t wanna clean it up but I don’t wanna stay there either. Besides, as long as no one is using the conference rooms, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Well, it is our right as employees…” Petra started.

“It is,” Levi said. He looked back up at Petra expectantly then lowered his laptop screen much lower, he could have easily just shut it down. “So what did you come here for?”

“I wanted to ask about Hange.” Surprisingly, Petra had brought out that conversation topic with a lot more certainty than every line before that.

Hange. And it had brought about an unwelcome twinge of pain inside him. He took a deep breath, letting it spread over his already enervated body. He noticed then, her name had started to seem strangely unfamiliar to his tongue. In truth, he hadn’t said her name in a while.

Levi took a deep breath and repeated her name, just a little experiment for himself. “What about Hange?”

“Your alarm and her alarm. They were ringing back in the gym.”

“That was weeks ago. Why bring it up now?” Levi asked.

Petra gave a slight shake of her head. “I was just wondering. Do you think it’s a bug?”

“It’s not,” Levi said, one eyebrow raised. He wondered if Erwin had ever discussed it with the others. Or wait, that might have been his job.

Petra grinned yet she seemed more hurt than actually happy. “I suspected it was a bug at first. But you know, when Hange stopped showing up in the office, you started acting different.”

“Have I?” Levi asked

“Yeah, you stopped working in your office. The few times I visited, it was a little cluttered but you never liked your office messy right? It only started getting messier when Hange started working closely with you…”

Levi was only becoming more self aware. Suddenly looking at how quickly, he had opened up his laptop, hunched over, just to hide his face behind the screen. He couldn’t even control his own reaction anymore. “And?”

“And when Hange was working… you seemed happier… You started going out for lunch more, talking to us more. You even invited me out…” Around that time, Petra started to stumble at her words, her ears turned a little pink. With time, she started to stumble with her words, to points beyond comprehension. “I know, I might look creepy pointing all this out but there were two points I wanted to make with this.”

“Two...points?” Then why didn’t you just start with it? Levi would have wanted to ask. But he was grateful that the speech was long enough for him to edit two lines of code, even in his own compromised state.

Petra took some time to compose herself. She put one finger up. “First, Hange changed you for the better, there were obvious signs that you were happier, so maybe those can be considered signs of love. Second, that means there might not be a bug and you’re just a really talented developer.”

“That’s reassuring,” Levi said. With his lack of energy, it could have come out toneless. “I mean it,” Levi added.

“If you wanna call it love or not, that will be up to you. But I think it aligns with our expectations for the application,” Petra straightened her back after that, adopting a more professional demeanor. “If possible, I’d love to have a chat with Hange about it. Maybe get her take on my theory…”

Petra wouldn’t have known. The talks had been between the upper management, it would only make its way to lower rung employees as a memo.

A fucking memo. Fuck red tape. Levi thought to himself. When it wasn’t official, could he even tell her?

Fuck that. “Hange might not come back,” Levi said.

Petra’s eyes widened almost immediately, her jaw dropped.

Before she could even speak, Levi continued. “They might terminate the contract. I know they’re discussing the legalities of it. Zeke is going to take the unfinished and have another team work on it. Or at least that’s what I’m understanding.”

“But there might---”

“There’s no chance,” Levi said firmly.

“Levi just---”

“None. There’s none.” Levi shook his head for emphasis. He allowed his voice to rise just a little bit louder than usual. He wanted to shoot down whatever glimmer of hope, before it got out of control.

Annoyingly, Petra had a way of just trying to find hope, the brighter side in most situations. But he didn’t need it. He didn’t want it. In his already vulnerable state, it seemed almost mocking.

And she was still trying. “But Hange----”

Levi banged one hand on the table in warning. “Petra,” he said. “Just stop.”

An abrupt slam on the table had always been enough to quiet people and Petra shouldn’t have been an exception.

In a surprising turn of events, she slammed harder on the table. “No, listen to me Levi.” Her voice was much firmer and at that moment, it didn’t seem like she had regard for differences in positions.

In shock, Levi fell silent and he was compelled to listen to that voice of authority.

“I came here for a reason.” She dropped her laptop on the table, almost louder than the slam she made just a second ago. “We got a support email which you might want to see. This is the reason I went here in the first place.” Petra quickly booted up her laptop. “It’s a support ticket, and the email...it looks like Hange’s.”

hange.zoe@wahu.com

A quick look at the date only confirmed it, it had been there for a week. There was a flyer attached which only sealed its fate as spam mail. Of course, it would have taken weeks to identify it.

But why would Hange use that email? At first glance, Levi couldn’t help but be suspicious.

“It looks like it’s related to Mr. Jaeger’s convention. He’s having one and I thought, you might wanna check it out… If you have unfinished business with Hange, use that opportunity to talk to her.”

It could be spam mail. It wasn’t that hard to create a fake email using Hange Zoe’s name but it was still worth some looking into. A quick google search only confirmed it. Zeke was having an event in one of the most expensive cities in the world, a coastal city a twelve hour flight away.

Still, Levi couldn’t brush off the doubt. Would Hange have used an email with her name? After taking so much of her precious time creating fake emails?

“If this is really her, then that means she wanted to contact us right?” Petra continued. “I think it’s worth a look.”

Maybe all he needed was someone to tell him, a good push in the right direction. Before Levi even realized it, his mind was working harder than ever since the incident three weeks ago, working overtime to justify something as ridiculous as a last minute week-long vacation.

If Hange did send the email, it might be worth it. And if by some chance, it really was spam, then he will have just wasted a good week-long vacation in ‘one of the most dazzling cities in the world.’

Levi could count with the number of fingers in one hand, the amount of times he had been in a long haul flight. The prices for a hotel, a last minute flight and of course, the leaves needed to make the trip were all daunting issues to consider.

He had expected himself to be at least a little more hesitant. A part of him was moving almost automatically. He stood up and slammed his laptop shut. “I think I’m gonna take a week long leave.”

“Since I joined, you haven’t even taken a sick leave. I think you deserve this,” Petra responded. And that peaceful response from her of all people had been reassuring.

“Thanks for that.”

Petra shook her head. “It’s only natural to wish the best for someone right?” She paused, and a weak blush climbed up her cheeks as she bit her lip. “Well, I meant the best for you and Hange. Just see what you can do for her.”

Levi let out a sigh. “But it helps you know.”

And somehow, those kind words had only left Petra more flustered. In thanks, he offered to take her back to her work station, but not much farther than that. He made a quick stop to his still cluttered office, did some quick cleaning up, leaving the white board and Hange’s own work station still untouched, like it has been everyday since three weeks ago.

He went home early that day and as expected, his brain continued to nag.

Was it a useless move? A stupid move? A rash move? Maybe it was. But he wasn't going to tell anyone else, just in case someone managed to convince him out of it.

Levi had taken some precautions. He emailed back, only to get no response. He did some research on the flyer. The event came with different names, trade shows, networking events.

With the objective of bringing together the largest names in neighboring countries… We aim to optimize production, bring about the best quality… Seminars, business dinners, product demonstrations etc.

The words blurred together slowly and before Levi knew it, he couldn’t make sense of it at all. It wasn’t important anyway. What seemed more urgent was the schedule of events right under the spiel.

It was a five day conference and it had already started the night before. Levi opened up his leave credits, still completely full. Most years, it had remained untouched until the end of the year.

He opened up his own bank account. He didn’t have much but he still had more than enough to take that particular risk. And when he contacted Erwin about it, the latter seemed almost excited he was taking a leave.

By some sorcery, he got the one week leave, tagged as emergency leaves. The next afternoon, less than 24 hours after that meeting with Petra, Levi was already in the airport, overnight bag over one shoulder.

He was going on an adventure, some stupid, impulsive and potentially pointless adventure.

***

The guilt never abated. There was something almost surreal, yet seemingly audacious about taking a last minute long leave, after spending years working non stop.

Would anyone understand it? The more Levi thought about it, the more he realized, he didn’t understand it himself. So by some twists and turns of logic, Levi guessed nobody would understand.

He had books he could have read on the plane. There was an inflight entertainment system.

Still shaken by that one week long life, Levi ended up booting up his laptop and spending a huge chunk of the time reviewing pull requests on the flight. Time started to pass like how it used to in the office.

As expected, he got tired four hours in. Losing energy reserves  midday in the office was a very unwelcome experience but something Levi never seemed to completely avoid. It was a very familiar experience that the next few steps had been much easier.

He pulled out the codes, his own personal project folder on his desktop, he stared at the files of codes yet to be merged to the original plan.

Then he started to organize his thoughts. Before he knew it, his fingers were flying over the keyboard.

It could have been some reminder, or just some attempt at shoehorning reason to his impulsive decision to cross the ocean on a last minute vacation. But the more Levi let his brain nag, the more he started to justify. The longer he justified, the sooner he just accepted.

Who cared if anyone else found it sappy. He needed closure.

Then and there, it seemed like closure meant articulating the plans of his own personal project, ideas that had been exchanged that fateful night in some empty playground, ideas that only built and built themselves until they were rows of codes yet to be tested or executed.

Maybe closure was getting the plans for the emotions alarm to Hange.

And as Levi continued to type, he realized, he had a clear idea on how he wanted it to work. Articulating it, planning it into something Hange would have understood was not too much of a tall order.

Connect the emotion alarm to a dashboard… plans on how to quantify emotions, moods… Colors, emotions, suggestions.

Newfound energy had Levi tirelessly working over that plan the whole long haul flight, creating diagrams, appending it with his own notes and suggestions. They were still empty spaces, questions and question marks, space which Hange would have been more qualified to fill herself.

After looking at it once then twice, reading out loud softly too himself the parts that hadn’t made too much sense, Levi scrolled back up and typed four words on the upper left.

Working Title: Mood Alarm.

Hange would probably argue semantics, how moods were a lot more temporary than emotions. And Levi was imagining some outrageous argument in his head and his own responses which would never see the light of day. He stayed staunch with his decision. Unless, Hange could come up with anything more catchy, it would stay.

And that fake argument, had been enough for him to relax. He lowered his laptop screen then reclined his seat and stared out the window. It was still a light blue but there were already hints of purple and pink just straight ahead.

The sun would set soon but only for a few hours. One quick calculation told him, it wouldn’t ever be late at night. Once he arrived at his destination, it would still be day and he would have to adjust quickly.

Tucking his laptop away, he allowed himself a few hours of sleep and he had been lucky to have slept long enough to wake up to a pilot’s message about flying over the city then a good view of unfamiliar landscapes just outside the window.

Levi spent those last few minutes before landing, tracing the skyline, counting the number of tiny boxes that dotted the greens, just inches away from clusters of green, white, silver, then flashes of other colors, too many colors to count.

It was an expensive city. He didn’t need Google to tell him that. Everyone knew it as a city only for the filthy rich. He could imagine Zeke having a house or an apartment there, maybe even two. And he made some guesses of which one Zeke could have owned among the larger ones by the beach. Then he made a much longer reflection of just one Yes or No question.

Would Hange been there? He was still too high up to distinguish humans on the outdoor balconies from tricks of light. Still he pretended that she was on one of the balconies over looking the ocean.

The plane got lower and lower, the houses were starting to look more like houses than little tiny boxes. Close enough, Levi was starting to see the glamour of the city, he was starting to see the glowing characteristics which made it a first choice for the ultra rich.

Sparkling blue ocean, only peppered by speed boats and yachts moored at the docks. From inland, mountain ranges formed crescents and worked with the coast to outline the borders of the cities from miles around.

By some type of magic, the landscapes surrounding it had managed to make the dazzling city its own world. Levi begrudgingly gave some credit to the rich for seeing potential in such a breathtaking view.

Just before the coast were tall buildings among shorter buildings and they were lined up on the flat lands, touching one end of the mountain range then the other. Some were hotels, others were casinos, a few of them were malls. Parks were clustered among the buildings, yet they seemed out of place. They were like some shoddily formed assurance that the city wasn’t out to get any tourist’s money.

Levi was seeing differently. The struggle he went into booking a hotel was already a prelude to whatever he would be dealing with. He silently patted his wallet at his back pocket as the pilot’s final instructions sounded over the whole plane.

"Cabin crew prepare for landing."

And all the passengers had been excited to leave. The plane soon slowed to a stop. Even before the seatbelt sign went off, Levi was already hearing the click of seatbelts. Then everyone filed out of their seats, pulling out luggages from the overhead compartment.

Levi was one of the last few out of the plane. Yet with his lack of check-in luggage, he was still one of the first out of the airport.

Nothing could have completely prepared him for the abrupt shift from dry autumn to a wet perpetual summer. He was greeted by some faint smell of the ocean, almost stifling warmth in the middle of October, and very very humid air that stuck to his skin. Unfamiliar sensations on skin, unfamiliar scents and an unfamiliar language that only blurred into nonsense when they made their way into his ears.

It was a new world, a new adventure, Levi would have never taken under any other circumstances. And maybe that had been the reason why the rush of guilt came back when he allowed himself to marvel over the views, the first hand experience of standing close proximity, breathing the same air of that city he had only ever read about books, or seen in the news.

Levi took a deep breath, pulled off his autumn jacket almost violently.

Then he reminded himself again. If he didn’t find her, he’d still be okay. If he didn’t find her, then that trip will just have been a break.

A well-deserved break.

***

According to reception, his hotel was conveniently located just a five minute distance from the convention center. According to his maps application, it was ten minutes away. Levi though, had taken one hour to make his way there

There were hidden paths that weaved through allies and the occasional mall entrances and exits and maybe that had been what reception had been referring to when they mentioned shortcuts.

Levi walked quickly through them at first before he opened up to a larger road. When his surroundings were more open, when his vision stretched far beyond the narrow walls of the alleys, he thought one of the most beautiful cities in the world to be worth a few detours.

Anyway, he had found the signs were all pointing towards the hybrid building that doubled as a hotel and convention center. It might have been the grandest building all around.

He scanned his surroundings, trying to connect his own view from the plane to his own surroundings. Unable to conjure a very clear and accurate picture of what had come above, he couldn’t confirm whether it had been the grandest building around.

It wasn’t too important anyway.

It seemed like the city was on some journey to prove itself to him. Every path, road, alleyway, shopping street and even the interiors of the mall were all different levels of grand. And they all didn’t disappoint, especially to someone who barely even left his home city.

Clean finishings, newly paved roads, cobble stoned streets and red brick roads all seemed to come straight out of the sappiest rags to riches movies.

One cruel truth though Levi soon found out—and had been expecting anyway—was that everything came with a price.

Of course, it would. But Levi hadn’t embedded that truth deep enough inside him to be able to completely stifle his surprise at the price of bottled water, then the price of a late breakfast. They were all prices Levi would have never considered paying for one meal’s worth of food. So he settled for fast food. And he was sure, he would be eating fast food for every single meal until he flew back home.

Eating burger meals worth twice or thrice what he would have gotten at home was still a harrowing experience. He was on that constant in between state, naturally bitter at the ridiculous cost of living yet still forcing himself to savor those few bites of a sandwich.

And he found some inkling of a distraction just staring out the window, watching the crowds go by as he consumed his brunch slowly.

Then, he noticed, he never stopped thinking about her. She had always been somewhere in his mind, still close enough to the front that a flash of brown hair, a messy pony tail or even a pair of glasses among the crowds were enough to have him eyes wide, chewing slower than usual.

In one quick impulsive move, Levi dropped the burger, pulled out his phone and activated the love alarm.

Just in case.

He put on his earphones, then his baseball cap over it. He finished his food much faster then exited the store.

The love alarm didn't ring as he weaved through the crowds. He put his cap lower on over his face, keeping himself unrecognizable.

So, it shouldn't ring for anyone if anyone can't see me right.

That was expected behavior at least. And Levi was just laying trust on some belief that if Hange was nearby, two things might happen. If Hange hadn’t cleared her alarm history and her alarm would recognize his. Or, even if she used a new account, she would recognize him with a baseball cap covering half his face, and it would still ring.

That was assuming she still used her love alarm.

It was a very small chance and Levi was completely aware of it. So he made his way to the convention center, taking note of the signs with the names plastered on them, with arrows guiding him through shopping streets.

Levi didn't mind the detours, more crowds to attempt to look through. When he finally arrived at the hotel entrance though, he found he was tired and a little grumpy.

With the words at the front mentioning Zeke Jaegers name as a keynote speaker though, he had gained some newfound hope, Hange might just be nearby.

He had done the research at least. There was a visitor's price. There was a guest book.

There would be people selling him medical equipment, the latest medical technology and the drugs, supply chains, just the latest lingo, Levi never bothered to learn.

And he got those business vernacular in slow, stilted opportunities, so separated from one another that he never made sense of them.

He was there for one reason. Hange. So it wasn't too difficult to feign purpose, maybe even pretend that he had a few million dollars resting in his bank account for an investment.

There was a map, the names of some of the companies were in languages he was only familiar with by appearance. It was name recall that saved him then, he saw a few of Zeke's hospitals show up in the convention map. Forming a path in his head, he dove into his crowds, clutching his phone harder, readjusting his earphones.

No ringing. And he couldn’t help but feel a strange emotion, a mix between disappointment and relief. It was quiet and somehow he liked it that way. Yet, that only meant that Hange wasn’t nearby.

But leads to Hange were a good second best option. “Levi--- Mr. Ackerman?”

“Ms. Finger,” Levi greeted.

If Pieck knew anything about the incident at the school, she didn’t make it obvious. She was all business at that convention, decked up in business attire, fliers and a product handbook on the desk right in front of her,

She made her way closer to him, letting out a hand to raise and before Levi could even mirror that same movement, someone cut in between them.

“May I help you?”

Levi could have sworn he had never met that man in front of him. Yet the man was looking at him suspiciously, out of character for someone in a suit and flyers.

Pieck pushed past him."Porco, I'll handle this. So, what brings you here?"

Levi had to play his cards well. "I wanted to talk…" to Zeke? Or to Hange? Which was the better name to bring up?

Pieck nodded at him, an inquisitive look on her face. "To talk…"

"Business…"

"What kind of business? You could relay it through your manager right?"

"it's about the app we're developing." He had his laptop with him then, and only the motion of his laptop to his front albeit had Pieck lighting up.

Of course it would, Pieck had been one of his fans when he had first demo-ed the emotions alarm in the hospital just a few months back.

"You've been planning improvements."

Levi gave a light nod. "I've created plans to further improve the efficacy of the application. I was hoping to talk to Zeke about it, or if he's too busy, Hange." He hoped he had used the right jargon.

Pieck had seemed uncertain there. Yet her eyes had darted to his laptop enough times for Levi to see that she was interested, that somehow she had held a stake in those final products.

"If you want me to show it…" Levi was about to drop his bag and pull it out.

That is, if Peke hadn't stopped him then. "Don't trouble yourself," she said. "But, you wouldn't find Zeke here for most of the day. He only shows up for the business dinners but they're on an invitation basis. I can try asking around, we have a few employees who could ask Zeke."

"If you could tell me where Hange is…"

And that was where things got slightly complicated and somehow Levi suspected from the way Pieck had avoided his gaze yet at the same time, Porco had flashed him with a glare, there was something they knew that he didn't.

Pieck spoke up. "Hange huh? Haven't seen her since the convention started. Even during the days leading up to the convention, she was in and out, more than we could even remember."

"She's unpredictable. Don't think you're going to find her here," Porco added.

"But if you could contact her yourself?" Pieck looked at him pointedly.

"Unpredictable huh?" Levi wasn't all too surprised that they would call her unpredictable. And they had said it with a hint of animosity on both their voices, a tone which very much said 'dont bother', or maybe, ‘contacting Zeke might be the better option."

Levi, though, saw a challenge in that unpredictability. If he played his cards right, he might even find predictability in it.

At the least, he managed to let out a light greeting of thanks before he pulled out of the crowds then past the entrance of the stifling convention.

Levi still kept a copy of a program, taking note of keynote speakers among them. Hange wasn't in any of them so his thoughts flew quickly out of the convention, only rooted there somehow by that offer from Pieck to get him in touch with Zeke's executive team.

No help at all with finding Hange. But Levi couldn't help but just think that their actions may have been calculated. Once again, Levi was groveling about the stiffness of the world of politics and artificial corporate pleasantries.

When that became too stressful, his thoughts went back to Hange.

Hange was unpredictable, in a predictable way. And Levi was sure as long as he strode through the town with some purpose, he could make sense of that 'chaos' she always seemed to exude.

That night, he approached it with some careful premeditation, while considering as well that he was still suffering from jet lag.

He scanned through maps, aerial photos, then pictures from taken from high points in the city. He let his eyes trace over the coasts, then the beaches, the affluent areas close proximity to the beach that strategically overlooked the bluest parts of the ocean. Then he noted a less affluent area that brushed the other side of the mountain.

Focusing on the smaller houses, almost hidden by the iconic skyline, he asked himself, would Hange be there? He didn't have a straight answer but he wouldn't put it past her. Besides, any sense of adventure had started to become a little more welcome.

There was truth to it, Hange was unpredictable. But the predictability to it was, Hange was so unpredictable, she was memorable. He was sure if he would ask about the brunette, someone would know.

If Hange acted like the Hange, he knew, someone might recognize her. Someone in a simple community in a country thousands of miles away from his own, wouldn't know Hange Zoe as anything more than some eccentric brunette.

And maybe that was where he was supposed to start.

The next morning, he bought a bus ticket and he had been lucky enough to even get an opportunity to sit. After all, no one actually visited that city for the locals.

It was almost a half an hour bus away form the city center, and houses by the coastline were getting further apart until Levi reached a point where cabanas were made of simple wood, paths were etched lightly on the ground.

Levi disembarked at one of the more simpler bus stops for miles around, and it didn't look like the bus passed there often.

But maybe it was better that way.

Untouched Nature, free nature is a beautiful thing. Nature once again at its rawest form, at its most candid, not flaunting its best parts for the rich to admire.

And Levi was seeing beauty in the candid.

There were a few local kids, wading by, speaking a language Levi didn't understand and for a second, Levi just stood, breathing in the sour air of some untouched beach. It differed a lot from the beach thirty minutes away. There was no music playing in the background, no strobe lights and Levi concluded one thing.

Hange would have enjoyed this.

Levi would bet money that if Hange did have the freedom to run around, she might have been there. The houses around the area were of a simple kind, so far apart, that Levi had to walk thousands of steps just to get from one to the other. He traced the coastline as he walked, far enough from the shores to keep his feet dry but still close enough that he felt the moist sand squish from underneath him. He was following some path back the way he came, towards the skyline, he noted there were bars among them, seemingly affordable bars, maybe catering to locals.

Levi entered to find chaos. Men in a group playing some possible version of mahjong with rocks, others playing chess and others playing cards with rocks as currencies.

And he was more convinced Hange would have joined them if she had the freedom to move around.

So he took the risk. "Do you get foreigners here often?"

And maybe the word ‘foreigner’ or the word ‘often’ had been unfamiliar to the bartender.

He looked questioningly at Levi but it didn't look like he was completely lost. He turned the younger bartender who looked back at Levi. "May I help you sir?" he asked with a thick yet still very intelligible accent.. Levi suspected he had worked in the city center before.

"Foreigners...do you get a lot here?" Levi was slow at first.

"A few. May I ask why?" And he was starting to suspect the man worked in service.

It looked like the man didn't need the quick adjustments though, so Levi continued. "I'm looking for someone…"

The local gestured for him to go on.

And just like that, Levi found out Hange's predictability. All he needed was some subtle gesture, some consideration, that maybe it would have been best to approach the men hustling chess players by the side, or the other men playing some version of mahjong.

It was just a quick flick of his head towards the gamblers as he tried to find the right words to say.

And the man in front of him figured it out. "Glasses? Brown wavy hair?"

"She likes playing games. She plays here?" Levi asked, just for some confirmation, some proof that he wasn't socially engineering anyone.

The younger man looked at the bartender. The latter broke out into a smile. "Hange?" he said with a thick accent. He let out a laugh then turned to Levi almost suspiciously.

Levi nodded quickly. "Yes, Hange." Hänge Zoe. Should he say her last name?

The bartenders said something to the English speaking local. There was a brief exchange between them and the bartender pointed at Levi.

"Her hair is always messy," Levi said, he put his hands at the back of his head, mimicking the messy way she tied her hair up. "She always wins games. She's very smart. And sometimes, she'd just go out to the beach and she'd get lost in the view."

The two locals look towards each other, their faces suddenly unreadable.

They knew something Levi didn't and Levi knew he was punching blindly just making quick guesses of what Hange would have done. The specificities could also mean they escorted him out with new information.

Yet, somehow, it seemed those descriptions worked. They both smiled, exchange a few words.

"She plays. She wins---"

Levi smiled. "And let me guess, she doesn't keep the money?" And when he saw the grins of the two men widen, he made another guess. "And she gives the money away?"

The man dropped his shoulders and put one hand out in greeting. "What do you need?"

"I wanna see her--- No, I wanna talk to her. Do you know where I can find her?"

"She doesn't tell us where she's going too."

The bartender said something just behind the younger man and the latter's expression changed. They were both pointing at something, seemingly hypothetical, then drawing something with their fingers.

The younger man then continued in English. "I'll take you out."

"Wha--" Levi never had time to finish.

The man guided him out.

At first Levi wondered what he did wrong. The man didn't seem to carry any animosity. He seemed almost excited. "She likes going there," he said with some level of certainty.

There. Initially, it had been difficult to figure out where 'there' was. Following the direction of his finger with his gaze was almost a tall order. But there was only one place from that angle which boasted any level of significance.

He was pointing high up to mountain ranges and from his place by the coast, on the other side of the city, maybe he could make out a small tower that peeked out over the green.

"She likes high places," the man said.

"She told you that?" Levi shifted his grin to something certain then he nodded. "Thank you, I'll check it out."

And that tower peeking out of the mountains was identifiable with just an easy google search, expected from one of the most tourist friendly places in the world.

A tower observatory huh? Was it be open to the public? Sources said yes. What did Hange enjoy there? Levi had an inkling of an answer but he might have to see to it to be sure.

While waiting for the bus back to the city center, he consolidated his clues. Pieck had told him to wait for a message from someone named Yelena. If he couldn't talk to Hange, he could talk to Zeke.

Still, he was covering his bases with Hange but he was a little messy with it. It was all a matter of fate, some inkling of what kind of person Hange would be.

But what would he know about Hänge?

Even on the empty bus on the way back, he left his love alarm on, earphones propped comfortably in his ears.

In the bus it didn't ring but when Levi was weaving through the busiest streets, changing from the city bus to the bus leading up the mountain, it may have rung a few times. And Levi only started to become aware, a few incidents in, that every single time he had stopped, then he would scan the crowds.

One flash of brown hair, sometimes it would show up red under direct streams of light. A bird's nest tied up in a half pony tail or just a very messy one. Or maybe that low voice, which seemed to shift to something shrill almost immediately when excited.

There was only one person he would have wanted his Love Alarm to ring for. So Levi, lowered his cap over his face, boarded a bus and made the journey to the mountain.

***

He didn't go back to the convention center anymore. A long list of programs and keynote speakers only confirmed it, it was a roadshow on business ventures more than research.

But Hange likes business right? Hange likes medicine? Or she might even be wedges among the crowds of tourists among the snazzier casinos, just playing. He then considered playing just to check it out and maybe ask around.

And when Levi was weighing options, he realized Hange was somewhat unpredictable. He was at the mercy of fate, luck and a few well thought out guesses.

So he treated it like some challenge, a challenge he could very much fail. But he would get a better chance of running into her, if he kept to one place.

He picked the summit of the mountain and he parked there for the next few days, laptop bag in hand, sweatshirt over his boardshorts. There was a cafe only a few blocks from the tower with a good view of the main street leading up to the observatory.

And Levi only had to be there a few days to realize, it was off-season and it was off-season for a reason. It was the time of the year, when the weather by the road was a fickle bitch.

That day, the rain was on and off. The northern winds blew strong and Levi almost wished he had brought his autumn jacket. Yet it never was cold or windy enough to be certain it was worth lugging around.

The sweatshirt had been a golden alternative and he found the hood had a dual purpose. Enough, to hide his face so he could keep his love alarm on without receiving too many alarms. And enough to keep him safe from the blinding wind that came with climbing high elevations.

Levi abandoned the baseball cap, instead keeping the hood low over his face. He made himself at home in that cafe that overlooked the main road towards the visitor's center and a platform with a good view of the city. He picked a spot right next to the window. He only had to turn left, to get a peek, yet he was in a good enough position that if anyone looked back, he only had to lean back to be concealed by the opaque wall.

Levi was taking stupid risks. Did she clear her cache? Did she even still use the app? Any of those miniscule decisions would have been enough for Levi to come home empty ended. Yet, they were highly probable decisions. After all, why would Hange want to keep the application after the fiasco months ago. He started to even entertain the possibility that maybe Hange wasn’t even using her phone as often anymore. She hadn’t replied to texts, responded to calls and her number was also out of service.

Everything was against him, every single probability. Everything had been against him since the start anyway so it was much easier to stomach such circumstances.

Levi made for himself an ultimatum. He only had until his flight back, three days after, to talk to Hange.

If he is not able to find her, he goes home empty handed. He cooperates with the transferring of assets, the finalization of the contract. He scraps his own personal project, the colors, the attempt to quantify emotions and the dashboard.

At the least, he tried. He responded to that ticket. He tried to contact her, he tried to look for her. Hell, he was even contacting Zeke, personal pride and corporate processes be damned.

Surprisingly, instead of leaving him more desolate, the high stakes, all against him, had only sent a surge of motivation through him.

Maybe helplessness could do that to people. Or maybe he just couldn’t believe for himself that losing could be such a probable outcome.

Levi turned up the volume of his phone, scanned the crowds just outside the shop. It was off season, the weather was dark and gloomy so it wasn’t too difficult to even count the number of tall lanky brunettes who could have remotely been Hange. And he probably wasted more than enough time looking closely at each one, before accepting that twinge of disappointment every time they looked back revealing an unfamiliar face.

He never failed to remind himself how stupid of a plan it was. In the end, his best option really was to wait for a message from Yelena. Even if he would have preferred to discuss the plans with Hange himself, without that monkey as an intermediary.

When the disappointment accumulated, becoming too much to bear, Levi opened his laptop again, checked his work trackers, then his own project but he always made sure to look out, in between lines of code, or in between tickets or pull requests.

Just in case. Just in case, one of the brunettes was Hange.

When his love alarm finally rang, Levi had been reviewing a pull request. The surprise lasted for a second, the horror at realizing if that person hadn’t opened their love alarm, he wouldn’t have noticed her, lasted a little longer.

But he couldn’t be too sure it was her. She had on a cap, her hair tied up on a high ponytail. It was wavy and untamed, yet bunched up in such a way that maybe even her hair felt stifled. The ponytail swung wildly with even the slightest movement of her head.

And she was moving a lot, head bent down at first, looking at her phone, then at two kids next to her.

She was part of a tour group and those kids didn’t seem like hers. The alarm stopped for a while, and Levi used that short rest to check the schedule of the convention he had downloaded just yesterday. There was a tour that day. So it could be her.

Still, he couldn’t be too sure. His alarm rang again. Then when he was watching closely, he saw her jaw drop, he saw her explain something to the kids. Then she started to scan her surroundings and when Levi used that flash when their eyes met for just a second, he suspected.

But maybe their eyes haven’t met. She was wearing sunglasses.

And there was still a good chance it wasn’t Hange. But from her reaction, from the reaction of the kids, then the way she poked at her phone and the way the heart just suddenly disappeared then appeared then disappeared from his phone within few second lags, Levi decided it was a risk worth taking.

He continued to stare. And the brunette continued to scan her surroundings. She bent over, said something to both kids, then patted one on the head. And she turned around, looking through the cafe window.

And Levi turned off his own alarm, leaning back on the chair, just far back enough to hide.

What was he scared of? It looked like she could have been scared too. She didn’t bother to come nearer, or to even crane her neck to see just behind the wall right next to the window. She shook her head, a half smile played at her lips. And she walked away from the cafe, back to the tour group.

A disappointing turn of events. And Levi was scolding himself. It almost seemed surreal to even find Hange there, after losing contact with her for months. But he couldn’t be too sure that it was her. And how many times had he repeated it to himself.

Heart beating wildly, Levi let out a wretched sigh and slammed his laptop close, loud and hard enough to jarr him and even his closest neighbors. Who cared anyway? He continued to stare at Hange, and just for some level of security, just in case his emotions took more control than he allowed, he put the hood of his sweat shirt over his head, zipped it up a little higher over his neck and stared out.

She was talking to the tour guide. The tour guide shook his head, then pointed just above him.

Grey skies. Levi understood gesticulations enough to get that part.

The tour guide then pointed at the cafe then at the shopping streets but maybe she wasn’t listening anymore. She turned to the sky and Levi followed her gaze to see that she was probably looking at the tower, the base was visible from his view but even when he bent his head to the side, he couldn't make out the top. He made it a game for himself, he craned his neck, just to see how far up he could make out from his comfortable seat in the cafe.

Then eventually, he gave up, yet the brunette was still looking up, her head hung back, almost freely. Her mouth a thin line. And it was only when Levi heard the loud murmurs, took note of the sudden shift of the cafe atmosphere from peaceful to bustling, did he realize she had been left all alone.

The whole tour group was inside the shop.

Except her. She walked ahead. And if Levi were right, and that was her, he might as well follow. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t coiling the charger of his laptop before stuffing it into his bag. He wasn’t placing it hinge first into his bag. He stuffed everything, leaving chaos in his wake.

But he didn’t have much time anyway. Besides, cafe was starting to get too crowded for comfort. He exited the shop, and she was still in view, for just long enough for Levi to make out, that she had turned a corner.

If a part of him wanted to hesitate, if a part of him was holding him back, he didn’t let it take over. He didn’t have much time to consider the situation either. After all, she was moving fast and the winds were enough of an adversary already. So he ran, holding his laptop bag close to his side. He was grateful, he had at least tightened the hood of his sweatshirt.

The corner she turned on, opened up to a smaller cobblestone road, and at the end of it was the entrance of the tower. She opened the door with the sign ’authorized personnel only’, and she didn’t come back out.

Many feet behind her, but still unperturbed, Levi followed behind. The first floor was wide, and it acted as shelter, an ante room to a visitor’s center maybe, and there was a small open room to the side. A rope acted as some weak barricade to the entrance with a sign hanging in front.

Closed due to weather conditions

Uncertainty was another adversary. He turned to the glass door of the visitor’s center. He could look for her there. After a small peak through the glass, he realized if he went through there, he might just get a little self conscious, he might just hesitate to even climb over the rope.

In the slow few seconds that followed, Levi considered several things.

If she wanted to go to the visitor’s center, she would have gone through the main door. If she were Hange, it wouldn’t be too outrageous to imagine her climbing over a rope or even opening an ‘authorized personnel only’ door. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized, the bartender was right, his own instinct could be right.

Hange loved adventure. Hange loved freedom.

And as he stepped over the rope, then entered the hollow area where the spiral staircase climbed endlessly, he realized, his instincts, his decision might have just been right.

The footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing one end to the other over the hollow walls. Even when he couldn’t make out movements, just staring above him, towards the dizzying top, he made out the echoes.

And that could be Hange.

Or it could be an illusion. Levi added a second later, as he started the journey up the spiral staircases, the laptop bag dangling precariously on his side. He was dealing with too many sounds at once, and they all echoed in the narrow room, that Levi couldn’t be too sure if her footsteps had been his own imagination.

Still, he climbed.

Hundreds or maybe even thousands of steps in, it became an issue of sunk costs. The rubber soles of his shoes on the metal, the slap of his laptop bag on his side. And the few times he looked back, the few times he allowed himself to slow down, he heard an echo, unfamiliar footsteps, the shoes not his own.

A few times, he tried to go faster, just to beat the sound. When he sprinted up steps, losing count along the way, he remembered he had to conserve energy. The sounds were blurring against each other anyway.

So he settled for a quick jog. The monotony that came with jogging had him thinking, the spiral case really was endless. He wondered how many feet he had climbed.

A few times, it was tempting to run. A few other times, it was tempting to walk. A few times, he wondered how nice it would be to be able to fly, just float all the way down like a bird. Soon enough, he was high enough that just looking down made him dizzy, left his stomach turning.

He started to focus on what was ahead anyway, even when it was all just some predictable pattern of stairs and stone walls. Along the way, maybe he had started to lose feeling in his legs, just like he lost track of the echoes, or maybe she had just stopped climbing altogether.

Close to the top, there was a platform that led to a doorway. And Levi only had to push open, to be greeted again by winds. Suddenly they were coming in all directions at once, enough for Levi to put both his hands over his eyes. Enough to have him bending his knees, trudgling forward, one step at a time.

He was at the top of the tower, the highest point for miles around. When he got his bearings, started to accept the wind as an inevitable companion, he had managed to sprint forward, lean his elbows on the arm railings and look forward, at the magnificent view that stretched past the hotels, the shopping malls and the casinos.

The mountains beyond that and just next to them, the empty beaches, the local communities.

A few times, he closed his eyes, allowing them some reprieve from the harsh winds. And around the time, when he started to notice the grey sky, the streams of light that seemed to let bright colors glimmer, the few parts of the land they touched, he easily remembered why he had been there in the first place.

Of course, Hange enjoys this.

He looked around him once. Then twice, just in case the first time had been a trick from his tired eyes. She wasn’t around. Then he started to question himself.

Is she really here? Or were the echoes of footsteps just an illusion?

Was he going crazy?

It could have been from the strong winds, or the crushing disappointment, but around that time, he found it difficult to breathe. He felt tears prickle in his eyes. He swallowed once, and that had been enough to keep his face unmoving.

He looked back at the view, then at the grey sky above, the streams of light that were only getting smaller as dark clouds hovered over the city, then at the neon lights that only started to glow brighter with each stream of light that disappeared.

The wind started to blow harder, the trees down below rustled, creating their own glimmer of green, all dancing at once. Then he looked up at the ocean, the waves only getting larger, as the direction of the winds started to become unpredictable.

Sometimes, his hood was pressing harder towards the back of his head. Sometimes, it pushed from the front, blowing his bangs out of his face. It was chilling his cheeks, forcing the salty yet very sour scent of the ocean through his nose, then his half open mouth.

The wind brought with it many things at once, utter chaos, in separated parts. Most Levi couldn’t even understand.

I love you. At first, he thought it to be the whistle of the wind. Then a second later, he decided that he was just going crazy.

Then the wind stopped for just a second, the whistle, the blowing deadened into nothing for just a few seconds.

A few seconds enough.

“I love you!”

A few seconds long enough for Levi to trace the voice to a strange location, above him, yet behind him. He traced it to the brunette, cap still propped snugly on her head, her ponytail swinging from left to right.

Her sunglasses were off, she stood balanced on one of the lower rungs of the rail. There were still a few streams of sunlight left, yet they shone on Hange, bright enough for Levi to see red, in her ponytail, to see those roundish hazel eyes, those cheekbones and hint of pink in them.

Red. For a while it looked like a fire, the smell of the sea tickled his nose, then a wave of horror. Then loss?

See you later, Hange.

She stood there, meters above him, far enough for Levi to still doubt yet still close enough that with a longer look, Levi accepted, he was obliged to believe it.

It was Hange. The longer he looked at her, the more certain he became, the more money he would have put into such a wild conjecture.

But what the hell are you doing here?

Comprehension was a slow process, muddled by surprise, disbelief and confusion at his own reaction. Impatient, Levi had exited the spiral staircase to a platform a few meters below the top, while she had climbed all the way up. That left them in two completely different floors, two completely different platforms, a good distance away from each other.

And it didn’t look like she noticed him.

Then who are you talking to?

She continued to look straight ahead. She took a deep breath then screamed again.

I love you.

The wind caressed his face again and the words came again as a whisper.

The few times Levi opened his mouth, he noticed. When the wind was strong enough, the clearing of his throat, the grumbles didn’t come out as expected. As if the wind stole his words, and carried them away with it.

And the wind wouldn’t tell its secrets right?

Exhausted, terrified, confused then frustrated. Unwelcome tears threatening to force themselves out, Levi decided he was desperate for someone who’d listen but he he didn’t want anyone capable of judgement.

He took a deep breath. “I love you!” With the wind blowing in all the directions at once, his ears snug under his hood, it came out as a whisper. It was as if his body saw an opportunity for a cathartic release in the potential listener in the wind. Even as his throat burned, he screamed it again. “I love you!”

I love you. Hange’s voice seemed to ride with the wind, once again, he heard it as a whisper. Looking back up, Hange had dropped back on the platform, her two hands cupped her mouth. She dropped them and took a deep breath. She dropped her shoulders, then stared up at the sky, her head hung back. And she looked like she was about to collapse.

And maybe he looked the same way. He wanted to collapse too, with the weight over his shoulders, another, more deeply embedded exhaustion reared its ugly head.

But he wanted to hear the rest of it. He couldn’t be too sure who she had been talking too. Either way, he was sure it didn't change anything. Whether she felt the same way or not, love was love.

He took another deep breath. “I love you!” The wind was only getting stronger and once again, it snatched the words out of his mouth, his throat raw, almost burning. He didn't even know wind could burn until that moment, until he noticed the ache in his tongue.

Hange didn’t seem to notice. She still continued to stare straight ahead, then up at the sky. She put one hand over her eyes, wiping sweat. Or tears?

And maybe his mind suspected tears. And maybe tears were contagious. They came out unwillingly, as something that just welled at the rims.

And maybe if he just screamed again, they’ll force themselves back. “Hange Zoe.” He took a deep breath. “I love you!” He had been more strategic, letting it out a split second later, when the wind was whistling, almost screaming.

The wind might never take those words to her. But he didn’t seem to mind, the words had been for him more than anything.

Levi…. I love you...

The wind was strong enough, rain started to patter over the stone platform. And it became difficult to distinguish screams from the whistling of the wind. So Levi couldn’t be too sure. Still, he listened closely.

...In another life… Okay?

The rain was cold. The dampness pressed the hood closer to the back of his head, then the edge of his hood hung low over him, obscuring his view.

Yet the wind still found a way in, it first caressed his cheeks again, then tickled his lips as if forcing something out of him.

It goaded. It teased. And Levi had always been a sore loser, even if he never told anyone.

Alone, with no one there to hear him, but the wind, and Hange beyond ears reach, Hange who had barely noticed him, the words were forcing themselves out.

He looked back to see her standing, leaning closely over the railing. The strong rains, the ferocious winds had reduced her to a shadow.

And he was sure, she probably hadn't seen him.

Another surge of confidence. Then one deep breath. By some unexpected rush, Levi was starting to feel some strange anger. And Hange’s own staunch acceptance, the way she just gripped the railings and stared ahead, was only aggravating it.

“I don't wanna wait for any more next lives!” He let out a painful cough after that but even that didn’t penetrate the rumble, the pattern of the rain and the gusts of wind that surrounded him.

I want you. It was a weak whisper at first. Recovering from that last bout, Levi attempted once again. “I want you now.” Even when he couldn’t hear it himself, he felt it, the rawness in his throat, the anger that laced every single word. “Love is a choice right? Then I made my fucking choice! I want you! I want you now!” He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, the figure hidden by a thin veil of rain.

The figure that eventually disappeared into the tower.

He eventually got tired of looking up. His neck ached, his vision started to blur and the hood hung damp over his face.

Levi only realized then, how much he had been holding in. In fact, it never felt all his to begin with. Cathartic releases weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Hell, Levi didn’t even notice how much had actually been released until he leaned back on the wall, until he realized, he didn’t mind at all being covered head to toe in water and dirt.

Humans were unpredictable. They were incomprehensible. And the moment that everything fell into place, Levi let it sink in.

He loved Hange. He wanted her. He wanted to be selfish about it.

“That’s what a choice is right? Doing what I want?” Levi whispered, making some sense of Hange’s own words, he mimicked her voice, her mannerisms as he said those first words. He then lowered his tone, into something more natural. “We’re not fucking robots Hange. We want things. We feel things.”

He didn’t need to tell her that. High up on the tower Hange had been screaming. He was certain of that. Hange had been leaning forward, she had been breathing hard.

She was feeling. She was human. She was free.

And Levi wondered why she had seemed so desperate, so eager to let something out, as if every other moment outside the tower had been stifling.

“That’s life married to a billionaire huh?”

He couldn’t blame her for screaming. HIs only little game of copycat had him exhausted too but somehow, by some sleight of hand, some magic, it had him calm, peaceful even under the strong patter of rain.

Articulating only made emotions all the more real. The signs that he hadn’t been the only one chasing blindly was reassuring.

And maybe that was all Levi wanted anyway, that was the final closure to that long game of cat and mouse. Levi turned to his soaked laptop bag, he maneuvered his way back inside the shelter. He zipped his bag open, let out a sigh of relief to see that the case had done its job to keep the laptop dry.

Then alone on the stairwell, he leaned on the wall, noted the sound of footsteps many feet below. He opened the laptop, then before even booting it, he closed it again and took a deep breath as one realization dawned on him in those slow steady movements.

In truth, he didn’t mind never showing the plans to Hange. Maybe he had just been looking for some excuse to see her, some attempt at closure.

“You got it,” he whispered to himself, hands cold and shaking even under the humid tropical air. “You can stop now…” But something inside him continued to lightly boil. “So what? Do we wait until the next life?”

Nobody answered.

He opened his phone, then his mood alarm. He already predicted the color on the screen.

Green. Happy sad? Or sad happy?

At that moment, Levi concluded, desire and acceptance could begrudgingly coexist.

***

Levi had no plans of going back to the convention. Yet, after that night, he had one more day left, one more day to check the city.

He did a quick google search, reading through long reviews on beaches, on the mountains, the hiking trails, the tower and the shopping street. None of them seemed interesting and Levi almost considered just curling up in bed on the last day and allowing himself to recover from the ordeal the night before.

And even if his mind had been willing him to find some other purpose. Levi found, as soon as the adrenaline rush ended, all he wanted to do was lie in bed. Only standing on two feet long enough to get him through a shower and curled into bed.

His mind was racing with other questions. Could Hange move? Was Hange moving? Was she walking? Was she talking? As if nothing happened? And the more he thought about it, the harder it became to move.

He slept through the night. By morning, he had enough strength, enough need for stimulation to pull his laptop closer. He ran his hand over the keyboard. It was fully dry. He realized he would rather wait a few more hours before opening it again.

He turned back to the ceiling. Rest. He whispered to himself. You don’t need to go out. You went on enough adventures to last a lifetime.

A fucking lifetime. It felt like sour graping. And Levi soon found himself admitting to sour graping. He would have wanted more adventures if it meant more time with Hange.

But real life didn’t work that way. Life expected people to decide on circumstances, never on emotions or actual thought.

So what’s the point of being fucking human then?  Rejecting the world as a whole, made it easier to just roll over and nap again despite the light streaming through the window.

And Levi was in and out of sleep, the only view was the plain white walls of his hotel room, and whatever light reflected on it. Some natural need for stimulation had him jumping at the sound of the phone ringing.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand behind him, dragging the phone roughly from the side table.

An unknown number. Hange. The unwelcome part of him tried to rear its ugly head again. He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He kept his voice cold, just in case it was her, or wasn’t her.

“Mr. Ackerman?” An unfamiliar voice on the other end and Levi couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman speaking.

“Speaking.”

“Ms. Finger told me about your request, about your plans for the Mood Alarm. I ran through it with Mr. Jaeger and he would be happy to host you for dinner, then for a private meeting in his suite."

“No need,” Levi said.

“No, he insists.”

“It’s not worth your time.”

“Mr. Ackerman, listen.” And the voice on the other end was firm. “Mr. Jaeger has invited you to dine with him. He took the time out of his busy schedule to do this. This is a formal invitation, if he is interested in your plans he will tell you himself.”

Levi didn't respond immediately. He couldn't think of much else to say yet.

“Will you dine with him?”

Levi put the phone in front of him, put it on speaker and just stared at the unknown number. Could this be a scam?

As if to answer his question, the person on the other line only continued. “We have added you to the guest list for the dinner tonight, just give your name to the reception at the hotel. Mr. Jaeger will see you there.”

And the person on the other end, did not give him time to protest. Levi thought it almost rude to call back, to even bother anyone over a decision that was just his to make.

Hours of contemplation later, Levi decided to just show up and lay low. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He had already reached the point of acceptance the day before.

[thebluemartini]

Battle Scars [Nessian Fic]

A/N: Well, A Court of a Silver Flames is just a little over a week away, so I might as well post one final little Nessian fic before its release! So back in November, @hereforthemoment wrote the following post: 

Nesta and Cassian are sparring, right? And Cassian ends up on top of her with a dagger to her throat but at the last moment Nesta aims her dagger at his heart.

He says, “you’d be dead”

But she chuckles and says, “then I guess we’d go together”

Then they both become very serious and look into each other’s eyes until Nesta pushes him off of her and leaves the ring

I asked for permission to write a fic with this scene, and voila! I finally finished it! So here goes! (Thank you @hereforthemoment!!) 

TITLE: Battle Scars

FANDOM: A Court of Thorns and Roses

SETTING: Post-ACOFAS. 

CHARACTERS: Nesta and Cassian

RATING: SFW

GENRE: Angst/Romance/Drama

SYNOPSIS: Nesta and Cassian finally address the war and its aftermath.

*You can also read this on AO3 or FF

________________________________________________________________

“Train with me, Nesta.”

She did not need to peel her eyes away from her dagger to discover who was talking to her. The low timbre of his voice was familiar to her—and one she heard nearly everyday. 

“That sounds like an order,” she answered coolly from where she sat on a log and continued to sharpen her dagger against the stone in her hand. “You are well aware that I’m not very fond of being told what to do,” she added in a casual tone. 

“My sincerest apologies,” he replied. Nesta kept her eyes down, but she could tell he must’ve been smiling to himself. These days, he always grinned whenever she spoke civilly to him...a vast difference from how they conversed with each other the first few months of her living in the Illyrian Mountains. Those conversations were more like verbal sparring matches. But now, several months later, the two of them were more like...friends. 

“What I meant to say was...would you do me the honor of dueling against me?” 

Letting the stone in her hand plop onto the snowy ground, she sheathed her dagger and finally looked up to see Cassian standing beside her. His hair was pulled back, allowing her to look directly into his eyes. 

The way he stared at her was...unnerving, and the way he treated her in recent weeks was equally unsettling. That fool actually had the audacity to make comments that would cause her lips to curve upwards into a smile. And he’d done things for her — like make her pancakes and retrieve new books for her — that made her feel like something was fluttering around in her stomach.

She had to shift her gaze. “You haven’t asked me to train with you before, General. Why now?” she asked, while suddenly finding the lacings along her sleeve to be quite fascinating. 

“Well, before, I feared you might actually end up killing me in a duel.”

“What makes you so sure I won’t try to kill you now?” 

“I have reason to believe you rather enjoy this pretty face of mine.”

Nesta’s eyebrow rose in confusion as she stood up to face him. “Whatever gave you such delusions?” 

“I seem to recall you looking quite concerned when Merida scraped my cheek during training last week.”

“That’s because I wanted to have the pleasure of marking you myself,” she assured him as she crossed her arms against her chest. The scratch left by the Illyrian female who accidentally struck her dagger against his face was still there. 

“I can think of a few more interesting ways you could do that without weapons, sweetheart,” he remarked with a smug grin as he allowed his gaze to drop to her lips. 

Nesta glared at him. “Are you sure you want to spar with me right now? The urge to murder you is definitely present.” 

Cassian smirked. “Well, I’m not the type to back down from a challenge I’ve already made. Let’s go to the ring.”

________________________________________________________________

In Nesta’s mind, every duel she engaged in was a story. Many of her fights with Illyrian females told tales of wild beasts that had been tied down for far too long that had now finally been able to roam free, progressing from rigid stances to more fluid movements within the span of the duel. 

Her current fight with Cassian told its own story—one that seemed to echo her and Cassian’s relationship since she moved here to the Illyrian Mountains. At first, his movements were slow and hesitant as he began circling around her, trying to gauge exactly what kind of fighter he was facing, while her own slashing motions at him were rapid. But he was quick to defend himself against her, blocking her dagger with his own. For a moment, her persistence seemed to frustrate him, causing him to finally attempt to strike back at her. Then their arms tired, and they spent less time sparring and more time analyzing the other as they circled each other. 

“You’ve grown stronger,” Cassian noted as he continued staring at her. 

“Are you surprised?” she asked, staring right back and noticing how the snowflakes fell on his eyelashes. 

“No,” he calmly replied. “I’m proud of you.” 

At the sight of her raised, quizzical brow, he continued, “You’ve overcome so much. It’s inspiring.” 

She would’ve raised her brow even higher if she was capable. To hear him say such a thing was...shocking. Alarming. Unsettling. Maybe even infuriating? But maybe she even felt a sense of pride, too...

“But you still have much to learn,” Cassian said with a strained breath and in a swift motion, he suddenly tackled her to the ground. 

Laying atop her body, Cassian pressed the tip of his dagger against her throat, careful not to nick her skin. 

“You’d be dead right now,” he muttered. 

But at that moment, he felt the tip of Nesta’s dagger pressing against his chest, right over his heart. Nesta let out a low chuckle. “Then I guess we’d go together.”

Cassian’s eyes quickly met hers, and her laughter faded. Silence fell between them—only the sounds of their ragged breathing could be heard as they looked at each other. 

Suddenly, with a shove, Nesta winced as she pushed Cassian off of her. Getting up, she sprinted out of the ring, leaving behind her dagger on the ground. 

“Nesta!” Cassian called out. “Nesta, wait!” In a quick movement, he stood up and charged after her as his own dagger tumbled to the ground. 

Determined, Nesta trudged her way through the snow with her arms folded across her body. The gusts of cold wind blowing against her face did not deter her. In fact, the biting cold helped distract her from thinking about the last time she almost died with Cassian. 

“Nesta!” Cassian called from behind her. She wasn’t walking fast enough. “Nesta, please. We need to talk.” 

“About what?” she shouted back, unable to resist the urge to yell at him and release her pent-up anger. Of course, she had an idea about what he possibly would want to talk to her about, but she’d been wrong about that before. Back after the King of Hybern was dead and the war was over, she thought he’d seek her out and address what he said to her on the battlefield. But that never happened.

“Us, the war...everything!” he replied. His voice was louder now.

Inside, Nesta was seething and couldn’t help herself from bursting now. She abruptly halted and whipped around to face Cassian as he approached, catching him by surprise.

“You’ve had months—years, actually—to talk!” she exclaimed. “Why even bother at this point?” 

“Because...I’ve been such an idiot–”

“No argument there,” Nesta grumpily interjected as she crossed her arms against her chest. 

Cassian paused and took a few heavy breaths as he looked at her. “And we need to talk about it in order to move forward. Because I love–” 

“I need to go,” she interrupted him as she shook her head in disbelief at the words he was possibly about to utter. She turned around to resume her journey back to her cabin. 

“Nesta, this is coming out all wrong. Can we please just talk?” he asked as followed her and reached out to grab her hand in an attempt to make her stop. 

Instead, she furiously swatted his hand away, not noticing the patch of ice on the ground as she did so. She slipped, sending her sprawling to the ground, and let out a small yelp in the process as the sharp pain surged through her ankle. 

“Nesta!” Cassian was instantly beside her, crouching down to help her sit up. “Nesta, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” 

“My ankle is twisted,” Nesta answered gruffly through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to bark her head off at him. “Leave it alone,” she ordered when Cassian placed his hand against her boot as if he were going to slide it off. 

“We should wrap your ankle with some snow,” he explained. 

“I will do it,” Nesta insisted with a frown, as she averted her eyes from Cassian. “Just leave me be and go on your way.” 

Confusion covered Cassian’s face. “Nesta, I’m not leaving you out here to suffer alone.”

“Why not? It’s what you’re good at.” Nesta spat back as she remained focused on pulling off her boot.

Cassian froze as her words punctured his heart. Silence passed between them while Nesta inspected her ankle. Cassian then reached for the small pouch belted at his waist, pulling out a  gray lace cloth that was adorned with various Illyrian symbols. 

“I’d like to change my ways,” Cassian spoke faintly. “And become a man worthy of you…if you will let me.”

He grabbed a handful of snow and wrapped it within the cloth, then held out his makeshift ice pack, waiting for Nesta’s permission to place it around her ankle. She peered over at it, curious as to how and why he would have a cloth like that with him.

“This cloth belonged to my mother,” Cassian said upon noticing her staring. “I like to have it with me, especially in battle.”

Nesta’s frown disappeared and switched to a look of slight concern. “Why would you want to use that to wrap my ankle?” she asked in a softened voice. 

“It’s all I have with me,” he replied. “And I am willing to give you all that I have,” he said with a meaningful look. “If you will allow me,” he added. 

Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, Nesta returned to inspecting her ankle. “Be gentle,” she instructed, granting him permission and not daring to say more out of fear of what Cassian was possibly implying. 

Cassian proceeded to gingerly wrap the cloth and snow around her swelling ankle, tying it so it was secure. “In the weeks when I was laying in bed, recovering from my injuries after the war…” he began hesitantly. “Every time I awoke, I always hoped you would be there when I opened my eyes.”

Nesta’s breath hitched upon hearing Cassian speak of the war, but she did not stop him from speaking. 

“But you never came,” he continued calmly, as he delicately slid her boot back onto her foot and began tying the laces. “And I was left feeling angry, bitter, and sad. I thought...after the way you shielded my body with my own, after our...after our kiss, that it would’ve meant something to you. That you would want to check on me and make sure I was all right and talk to me. But when you never showed, I assumed you wanted nothing to do with a low-born bastard like me. That everything between us meant nothing to you.”

Nesta absorbed every word he said as she watched his hands. But she allowed the sounds of the whistling wind to fill the silence instead of responding. 

“I can carry you back to the cabin, if you want,” he suggested as he stood up off the ground. 

Even when it came to the smallest things, Nesta hated not being the one in control. But with her ankle throbbing in pain and a long trek back to the cabin before her, it appeared she was left with no choice but to accept Cassian’s help. 

Yet, there was something endearing about his offer. He didn’t ask her if he could fly her back, which would be much faster than carrying her by foot. But he knew how much she detested flying and how sick it made her feel. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d recognized how she’d been feeling. As of late, he definitely had taken notice of certain things about her...like never starting a fire within the cabin because he realized its crackling sounds distressed her, always fully cooking the meat in her meals so it’s red juice wouldn’t remind her of bloodshed, and preparing a cup of tea for her each evening knowing it helped her sleep well each night. He even started remembering the little details about her, like how she prefers honey in her tea over sugar. 

Nesta gave a stiff nod. 

Cassian instantly knelt down to lift her up in both of his arms, careful not to jostle her ankle too much. 

As he began the trek to the cabin, Nesta turned her face toward his. While he had been learning more about her these past few months, there were still some things he did not yet understand. And there were things about him that she’d been wanting to understand. 

Feeling her gaze, he looked back at her. 

She took a deep breath. “In the weeks after the war, I was drowning,” she recalled calmly. “I was struggling to deal with all that happened in the war, from fighting the king to dealing with my father’s death to coming to terms with my powers.” Her voice fell into a whisper. “Do you think I was ready to deal with...whatever I may have felt for you at the time on top of that? Do you think I would’ve wanted to visit you and see firsthand the after-effects of a war that I was already having nightmares about each night?” 

With a somber look darkening his face — an expression that Nesta wasn’t sure she’d ever seen grace his face before — Cassian stopped. 

Squeezing her more tightly in his arms, he raised her a little higher so he could bring his face closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Nesta,” he said. “I’ve...failed you so many times. I chose to be bitter. I was hurt that you appeared to despise me while I was in love with you.”

While she could sense his apology was genuine, there was still more she needed to know and comprehend. And more that he needed to realize. “You promised more time with me out on the battlefield, then abandoned me. Then, you agreed to send me away to live here in the mountains against my will. Is that love to you?” she wondered sadly. “You told me that you didn’t understand how my sisters could love me. Would you call that love, too?”

A tear shone in Cassian’s eye as he shook his head vigorously. “No, absolutely not,” he insisted. “I realize how wrong I’ve been. I’m so sorry I gave into my pain and tried to hurt you the way I felt you had hurt me. I hope, in time, you can forgive me.” 

Nesta found she couldn’t reply. Not just yet. She’d been wrestling with thoughts of how he treated her in the past, compared to the way he’d made her feel as of late. 

Cassian soon resumed walking, striding through the snow with determined steps and an intense, serious facial expression. 

The rest of the journey to the cabin was quiet, but once Cassian stepped upon the porch outside the front door, Nesta held up the palm of her hand and rested it upon his chest, catching his attention. “Cassian, I want to forgive you,” she confessed softly. “But I… I need to see that I can trust you.” 

Cassian nodded, turning his head down. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t know how much I wish we could start over. That we could go back to the end of the war, so I could be there for you afterwards,” he stated wistfully.

Nesta moved her hand up to his cheek, capturing his gaze again. “Then, let’s start over.” 

“What?” he asked, puzzled. 

“Begin again by making me a promise, and prove to me that you can keep it this time,” she proposed.

Cassian took a deep breath before tilting his head down and staring deep into her steel eyes. “My only regrets in this life are the ways I’ve failed you and how I’ve wasted time that could’ve been spent better with you, Nesta. We will have that time now. I promise.” 

He tightened his grasp on her, and to his astonishment, she lifted her head up and planted a sweet, brief kiss upon his lips. 

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his. “It just felt like something was missing after such a promise,” she admitted with a slight grin playing at her lips. Cassian let out a low chuckle. 

“Don’t screw up this time,” she added in a whisper. 

“There’s no way I’m losing you this time, sweetheart.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: In writing this, I realized that I wished there were more synonyms for “stare” because I am ALL ABOUT intense gazes between Nesta and Cassian! So apologies for the overuse of the word. 

Anyway, I hope you liked it! I was pretty determined to include a Nessian kiss in here, but obviously those two still have a lot to heal through here...more than a oneshot allows :) so thank goodness ACOSF is almost here to do that for us! I had hoped to finish this fic weeks ago so there was a good chunk of time before the release but here we are. (While I am DYING for this book, I do feel a tinge of sadness over the fact that most of my Nessian fics will no longer be canon-compliant! XD) 

Thank you for reading and thanks again @hereforthemoment for the fic inspiration! 

[formulax]

CAPT SIMON'S LOG -- haven't been counting the days, I think around august

There was one year. After a while of consecutive sailing missions, between two long voyages, I was home for one year. It was at my mother's request; she said it was because my hair was graying (not quite, just a few here and there) and I needed a break from the stress. But I think she only said that to avoid causing a fuss with my father. I think that in reality, she noticed something lost in me.

I stayed in the family home with my mother, and it was almost impossibly quiet, because, well, my father was in the navy, away on his own trip. My mother didn't contribute much to the noise, as she enjoyed reading, much like myself. That quiet was the sound of peace.

The house was large, but not as large as what I remembered from my youth. Some images that come to mind: a greenhouse with vibrant flora, a balcony overlooking the rough sea, a hall of frowning family portraits...

I spent most of my time in two places though. My own room, and the library. The library was my mother's and mine, filled with the most amazing collection of books. I would spend hours inside, sitting by the windowsill and reading the logs of long-dead captains, or studying scientific theories and mathematics and astrology. It was often well past midnight sometimes when I finally slept, and sometimes I'd even fall asleep there, face in a book.

My room had its own bookcase, with my personal collection that... hadn't been touched in quite a while. I made it a mission to reread them all in the year I had, and I was successful. I walked to the bookstore, and bought myself more after that. The owner said he'd missed me when I was away, said I'd grown up just a bit too much.

I would spend the day reading, or studying, or walking the halls in deep thought. Or playing the violin, of course. I picked up the violin again, and I regained my skill quickly, and then got even better than I ever had been before. I would play in my room, at least a few minutes a day. My mother only urged me to play for her once or twice; I think she knew I just liked to play for fun.

I wasn't a good son.

When my year was up, and I had to leave for work, my mum took my hand in both of hers, and she told me to keep studying the stars, if that was all I could do. I told her I'd try, an empty promise, and I left.

I turned around and, speaking with such annoyance and echoing the statements I'd heard from my father and my other peers in the navy, called the year a waste of time, a useless pause in my career. I've considered it as such ever since then.

My mother is no longer around, I was not home for her death. And I'm starting to believe that I'm the dullest son on Earth for not understanding that she was trying to save me from a job that was making me miserable.

I called that year a waste of time, but as I'm writing this I'm looking back on it with such fondness. Being on steady ground, reading the findings of great minds and playing a beautiful instrument, simply because I enjoyed it. There was no sickening and swaying ocean, no imminent danger, no risk of hurt or death. It was quiet; the sound of peace. It was the best year I've had in a very long time.

I've had such a great time with the crew, I won't deny it. I never had many friends, and I've never been so close to people as I am with these three. Beyond that, the magic of this new world captivates me. The way you can play a violin to make a path rise from nothing eludes me, and yet that's what I did. I did the impossible, and the impossible just keeps happening, again and again. I have notes upon notes upon notes of it all.

But I was never really one for adventure; I always played the violin for fun.

I want that peace back. I need to tell them, I don't think this is for me. I don't know how to approach it.

[indianamoonshine]

chapter ii | sundaes and princes

summary: every summer you work on your father’s strawberry farm with your three sisters. it’s a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father’s old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become…well, let’s fact it…smitten. rating: m (18+) for future and explicit sexual content. author's note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won’t ever go into physical detail about the reader’s appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone. warnings: drinking, a bit of blood mentioned because of a slight accident.

dinner was loud, as expected, which made it difficult for you to hear the guest sitting beside you.

you'd been zoning out ever since din's eyes met yours from across the table. he'd been kind enough to listen to a woman named dima who was known to be a bit of chatterbox. she meant well, but most of the time she spoke it was about her family or her dog which had a tendency to put anyone sucked into her trap into "rest mode". nevertheless, din listened carefully and nodded when nods were appropriate and smiled when smiles were pertinent. the man was pleasantly charming, grin faint but with affable disposition. it wasn't any wonder when those around him continued to ask questions about himself, to which he answered with vague reserve.

while dinner was entertaining enough, it lagged on more than you'd anticipated. the roast was tender and well seasoned, simmering with heat, and the company praised your culinary skills with hearty acclamation. afterwards, the guests separated into their respectable groups, jubilant conversations echoing about the yard. your sisters were busy amongst their own crowds with faces familiar since childhood, letting out a chorus of laughter whenever someone said something amusing. they were your confidants as well, but you were so distracted by the mess left behind that you couldn't help but start tidying it up.

it wasn't long until madeline set her hand atop your own while you reach for a dirtied plate. she gave you that look she bore when she felt you were doing too much, eyes heavy with exasperation at the idea you'd even considered cleaning at a time like this. you pause and smile feebly at her, a little guilty.

"we can do that later." she takes the plate from your grasp, setting it back down a little more forcibly than you'd like. "enjoy the party. grab a sundae at the bar - it was your idea to set it up."

you glance at the setup near the house. an ice cream station with dozens of toppings and syrups beckoned you temptingly.

you sigh and pat her hand. "alright," you murmur in defeat. "do you want one?"

"sure, i'll take one." she links her arm within yours and places a kiss on your cheek.

the two of you go a little crazy with the ice cream. you've piled it high with chocolate and vanilla scoops, decorating it with colorful sprinkles, and dousing it in raspberry syrup. madeline decides on plain vanilla with chocolate curls.

"you know..." she begins, voice a bit too playful in its caution. "i saw him looking at you."

you freeze, like the ice cream, but shake your head. so you hadn't imagined it. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"is it such a strange idea that a man might be interested in you?" she proposes, placing a long-handled spoon in both of your glasses.

"yes," you reply with a small, bolshie laugh.

she says your name in pest. "you're beautiful and sweet. charlie once called you enchanting.

charlie was a childhood friend - like most of them. he was also bestowed the nickname "charming charlie" and it wasn't just because he was blond, handsome, and had the reputation of a casanova. charlie complimented everybody - especially women.

you remind her of this with a scoff as the two of you sit on a log beside the river. the water laps gently against the banks, rippling slightly from the hop of a bullfrog in the distance.

"charlie may be charming but he doesn't lie." madeline takes a spoonful of her ice cream and then rolls her eyes in ecstasy at the sweetness. "this was the best decision i've made tonight."

"don't think i haven't noticed tommy giving you bedroom eyes throughout the entirety of dinner," you clap back. you also moan in rapture at the taste.

madeline blushes in the moonlight. "don't change the subject."

tommy was your favorite of madeline's many endeavors (she had a bit of reputation in town). the tall, brunette was a hockey player with freckles splattered along the bridge of his nose. you'd been interested in him first, but as soon as you saw how quickly the two of them hit it off, your attraction to him fizzled. he was a hockey player which was admittingly one of the reasons why you found him so appealing. madeline felt the same way. the two of them have been inseparable ever since his first college game.

a millisecond before a quip can escape your lips, rhea comes bounding down the beaten path, long legs skipping with ease and hair swaying behind her.

"come join us, you hermits!" she titters blissfully, obviously tipsy on wine. that's what you deduce anyway; she preferred red rather than hard liquor. you couldn't relate. "come drink with me!"

both you and madeline exchange a look but it's in good-humor.

"i see you've already started!" madeline yells across the distance.

rhea blows a playful raspberry. "it's no fun being drunk without you guys." she gesticulates with a wag of her finger. "come ooooon! they're playing elton!"

this peaks your interest. she knew the king of rock n' pop would convince you to dance badly which is exactly what the alcohol was for.

madeline pursues her lips and cocks an eyebrow at you. "i think that's a great idea," she says suspiciously.

you didn't trust her tone, but when you heard the beginning rift of saturday night's alright (for fighting) blast loudly from the distant speakers you were possessed.

"alright," you laugh as rhea grips your hand and drags you backwards.

the three of you giggle in the night. |||

you didn't drink very often, but you did it enough to know not to wear a sundress while doing so.

in your defense, you hadn't known you'd be drinking tonight - or this heavily, anyway. you wanted to be sober enough to be aware of any stupid ideas that may creep in your head in the event you oogled over din long enough. drunk you was not sober you.

drunk you was a flirt. but not just any kind of flirt - a tease. and no matter how much you may or may not have caught din djarin's attention, he didn't deserve to have debauched eyes - clouded with drink - making him feel any sense of discomfort.

but dammit, he'd been drinking too.

how much, you couldn't be sure, but he had nursed at least two glasses of whiskey at the bonfire. he sipped slowly, relishing in it, and wise enough to know it was dangerous to scarf it down. you tried to convince yourself that it was okay to be this irresponsible while throwing back your third shot of vodka. after all, you were in your twenties and could hold your alcohol better than your sisters. life was too short, youth was too fleeting...all of that bullshit your elders had lied about.

sir elton john certainly didn't help nor did freddie mercury. by the time don't stop me now began to play, you were spinning in circles with charlotte, head thrown back in whimsical laughter, and stumbling upon the ground. the two of you laid back - despite the dirt - and held your bellies in order to settle the maniacal chuckling.

your sundress might've been too short for such ruckus but you couldn't find yourself caring. no one was looking anyway, right? a breeze lifted the hem and you shrieked playfully. charlotte is startled by the sudden gasp. she lets out a throaty chortle.

"you're such a sloppy drunk," she accuses, but slurring all the same.

"am not," you protest in a faux whine, but giggles edge the corner of your voice.

the two of you continue to volley insults back and forth, all in good fun of course, before charlie and tommy hover above you with quizzled, but humored brows. they were handsome, but unfortunately not enough to distract you from the way din kept throwing swift glimpses at your pathetic display. his intense features loosened when he found you joking, albeit drunkenly, with friends.

madeline joins the group and leans her head on tommy's chest, apparently brave enough to admit something to herself. "let's play hide and seek," she suggests, words a little rushed and lazy.

tommy and charlie were both as intoxicated, but tries harder than you girls to pretend otherwise. they shrug at one another, interested in the idea, though tommy may have been catering to madeline's pleads.

"alright, bet." tommy presses a kiss to madeline's forehead. "i'll be seeker."

"rules?" you ask, attempting to get up from the ground and failing miserably. charlotte takes your hand, clumsily pulling you to your feet. you knock yourself against her. the two of you almost topple to the ground again but she steadies herself with you in her arms.

"the pond is as far as you can go," charlie interjects. he motions to the willow tree in the center of the back yard. "that's the counting place."

the five of you agree enthusiastically, separating from one another like a football team does before their play.

it might have been strange (even reckless) to someone in the east - or west - to take part in such a game in the dead of night. after all, the moon was your only source of light in the woods, its beams illuminating the thicket and branches with a faint glow. but in the midwest, such games were a right of passage. forests were to be memorized, danger to be reckoned with. hide and seek in these conditions were elementary.

by the time tommy starts counting in a sonic boom, you've already begun sprinting in the woods. you were somewhat aimless in your pursuit, eyes frantically searching for a hiding spot worthy enough to be considered. you were the master at hide and seek - always have been. it once took charlotte an hour to find you and, when she did, she caught you wedged between a rack of clothes in the basement closet. you had a reputation to uphold.

but, alas, vodka was stronger than your sense of pride. while running through the entanglement of abundant undergrowth, you lost your footing and tripped over - what you can only guess - a shrub riddled with thorns.

"jesus christ!" you scream, immediately grabbing hold of your foot to inspect the damage. it was enough to sober you up to squint through the darkness. why the fuck hadn't you worn shoes?

you can't see the thorn - the night is too thick with darkness. you curse again just as loud as the first time in attempt to gain someone's attention. you weren't terribly far from the house, so you prayed to the gods that your cries of help would be heard.

because, much to your chagrin, you couldn't walk.

you did try but it proved fruitless because of the thorn. you realized how stupid that was because it pushed in further. god damn this drunkenness you whined internally.

a rustling of leaves startles you. you decide this was the end - you'd die in the middle of the forest you once trusted with your life. you've accepted the gory fact that your father would find your body mangled by the paws of a coyote in the morning.

"i don't wanna die a virgin," you moan tearfully.

a heavy voice full of worriment slices through the darkness. "let me see," he says.

oh no. oh no. oh no, no, no.

din djarin leans down upon his knees, taking your foot in a gentle fashion, before squinting at the damage. his fingers prod carefully against the arch, wiggling something foreign from the meat of your skin. you squeak pathetically at the intrusion, shifting away from his makeshift surgery. finally, he pulls out the thorn and holds it up to the light of the moon.

"a rose thorn," he confirms. you watch as a hint of blood glistens against the lunar rays. he smiles tenderly and then presses the pad of his thumb to the wound. "you'll be alright."

you gulp, all drunkenness suddenly scrambling your thoughts like eggs. instead of thanking him like a normal human being you can only mumble, "i can't walk."

din allows a full bodied smile and your heart skips a beat. he is princely and it takes everything in your pie-eyed body to stop from saying it.

"grab a hold of my shoulders," he instructs, leaning down a bit more so you can reach. you do so, very hesitantly, because there's no way in hades he'll be able to carry you.

but din is full of surprises. he lifts you almost effortlessly as you're slung bridal style against his chest. you must be joking.

with your arms wrapped around his neck, you gaze softly into his eyes. it's hard to see them, but you're close enough to watch as his pupils dilate, mouths almost pressing against one another. gods, you want to kiss him. you really do, but the very little percentage of your brain sober enough to reason with you decides against it. you'd regret it in the morning.

"thank you," is what you meekly say.

his stare is a bit more serious now...but not in an icy way. no. he looked...just as charlie once said...enchanted. his lips part just slightly, considering his next move, but then falls short. he nods in chaste before turning towards the break of the woods.

this was bad.

||| this is just the beginning of the night, ya’ll. more fun to follow! :-) tag list: @dancingwiththeplanets​ | @t3a-bag​  |  @dodgerandevans​

[writesandfights]

Prompt #103 “Well that was pretty rude of you to say” JJ x reader, where they are at a kegger and a boy won’t stop hitting on reader. The boy talks trash about JJ.

PROMPT # : 103

WORD COUNT: 1699

WARNINGS: NONE

PAIRING: JJ X READER

SPHALLOLALIA

A good old kegger, the best kind of party to ever be at, well in your opinion. When you were here there was never any sort of level of rich or poor, there was just happiness and the calm behavior that seemed to erupt into the biggest parties. You had been getting ready in the best outfit you could, well more or less the best outfit you could afford. You wore a loose fitting shirt that had a small bikini under it, you didn’t plan on swimming but at this moment putting on a bra wasn't exactly the most important thing. You sat down on the bed and pulled on your shoes, they were gladiator sandals, if you didn’t wear those, you would forever take the shoes off, it was a habit of yours.

When you were finished, you felt so beautiful, the way the shirt and shorts had been matching but it also didn’t tell anyone whether you were rich or poor, just that you had a sense of style. You had been walking closer to the beach when you saw how many people were gonna be at these parties, more than you could figure, it was already loading up the beach. You smiled for a second at the idea of seeing your crush, JJ, that man was phenomenal, he was always the life of the party and never let you feel left out or unincluded, he was just amazing.

You had been crushing on JJ for almost a year now, you met him by chance when you were lifeguarding the beach, and he of course, loved to be saved by the beautiful life guard. He was infatuated by your smile and especially by the look in your eyes, you were perfect, and from there on out he wanted to surf with you everyday, even if you weren;t surfing with him. He invited you to one kegger almost three months ago and you have been obsessed with going since, sometimes you would show up without even a second thought or an invite, and he would do the same thing everytime, thank you and play music with you.

JJ saw you as he waved but had been stuck into a little conversation with his best friend, John B, someone who was so attractive but you didn’t get along with him that well. But, you still put up with him for the fact that you knew he had meant well or he might have, you never second thought it in all reality. A young man had noticed you were alone and held out a little drink for you when he started to check you out, you couldn't almost feel his eyes running over your body, “ you must be the hot lifeguard down on the fifth, you know, you look so damn good compared to the other ones, its super sexy..”

“I am flattered that you think so, but I'm kind of with someone at this moment, if you would kindly leave me alone, thank you for the drink but I'm not interested, I'm sorry.” You suggested and looked into his eyes on his but he was fast to react by shaking his head and crossed his arms. He was annoyed by your reaction and walked closer to you. “ ouch, well that was rude of you to say. Come on, look, I know you're waiting on someone and you might be here for them, but you could spend some time with me, what do you have to lose, maybe up to ten minutes of your time?” He suggested softly while he had been staring to your eyes with his soft green ones, you hadn't really seen him around town that often so maybe you didn’t know him that well.

A sigh left your lips when you crossed our arms and didn’t want to hear what he had to say but you also didn’t have JJ by your side at this moment, he was off talking to John B about something and goodness how you needed him right now. “ fine fine.. Why don't we sit down and chat for a moment..” You moved your hair out of your face and sat down on the little log right behind you, clearly this had been stressing you out. You didn't know this man and he pulled a drink out of nowhere, but then again, he wouldn't do that to someone when they are surrounded by people right?

The man sat down next to you, his hand on yours when he rubbed at your thumb just to try and get your nerves to calm down. He was a taller man with dark hair that sat over his face, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and you soon looked down to his arms to see the swollen red bumps that rested right over the crevice of his elbows, he was a drug attic. “ oh you gotta be kidding me right now. Of course, why not.”

You snickered to yourself when you stood up and soon felt his arm on yours, he pulled you back down and tried to get you right back into his lap, “ you look sexy - come on beautiful.. You're waiting for attention from that poor boy, you know, he doesn’t even like you, he has been talking with uh - whats her name, kiera I do think. She’s much sexier than you are and I'm sure you know that.. He doesn't find you interesting, but I do, I love to be around you, you're so beautiful and interesting, so stay with me.. Come on, just drink your drink and stay by me, you have nothing to lose..”

Those words had echoed in your chest, it felt like the most painful thing you have ever heard, he didn’t care about you and he only loved or wanted to be around Kiera this whole time. You swallowed weakly and nodded at the words the man had said, but why would JJ do so many things for you if it was just to get closer to your friend, they were already close. When you took a drink of the liquor it led to everything that was said being sent down the drain, those words, that feeling, all of it, just gone in a matter of seconds. The terrible feeling of uncomfort spread when you felt your eyes opening and closing multiple times, “ ahhh see.. I helped right, beautiful?”

“Dude- what the hell did you do to her, you need to back off you drug obsessed dick, “ you looked up to see JJ had been standing over the two of you and the man rolled his eyes when he didn’t want to put up with JJ. “ back off, you are not a part of any of this, look she doesn't even want you, she asked me to kiss her, didn’t you beautiful.”

You made a noise and shook your head when you pulled yourself up, stumbling right into JJ’s chest, he smiled but held onto you protectively, “ maybe you should stay off the drugs collin, you're completely delusional without them, most people are, but goodness it's embarrassing coming from you, have a nice night-” He waved at him while you turned to meet his eyes and JJ refused to let you go of you, he wrapped his hand around your body when he picked you up bridal style, “ I was gone for two minutes and you managed to get yourself into trouble.. Maybe you should stay around me more often.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and nodded regardless, he could tell there was something in the drink when he had a tilted look on his face. He put his hand on your head, you were sweating but you had been cold to the touch, he had an instant concern that you could tell didn’t mean something good for you. A hiccup came from your lips when you moved your hand to cover it, he chuckled and knew that you probably weren’t going to be feeling the greatest, “ so uh.. You're not gonna feel the greatest for a little while there, beautiful, whatever he gave you, it had a drug in it.. But i'm gonna say screw this kegger and take you home..”

“Okay…” you didn’t leave his arms the whole time, falling asleep against his chest, he was warm and felt like heaven, the way his heart had been beating into your chest, one beat at a time and goodness how it was relaxing. When you woke up, you turned to look around and now you saw what was in the room, you had been at JJ’s house, luck was in store for both of you, his father wasn't around, he had taken the paycheck and went to the bar, spending this month's rent. JJ smiled when he saw you had been awake, he held onto a little rag, it was warm to the touch as he had placed it down onto your forehead, “ you're gonna be okay, just -no more accepting drinks from strangers, i'm gonna be the one to carry your drink at parties now, if that's okay..”

He waited to hear what you would have to say but you nodded in agreement, you leaned back onto his bed, he smelled so good. He had a scent of saltwater but not the kind that was fishy, no the ocean breeze right at the sunrise that seemed to be made into blue candles, but you had it right here, you had him. “ JJ.. Can you please lay with me?” JJ stopped in his tracks when he heard your words, a little blush spreading over those tanned cheeks but he agreed. He sat down on the edge of the bed but crawled up behind you, his hand snaked around your waist and pulled you square into his chest, he felt like home, his heart rate was like music to your ears. You turned in his arms and pressed your head against his chest, closing your eyes when he kissed your forehead softly, “ go to sleep beautiful, i'll be right here when you wake up.. I promise..”

[five-rivers]

Cloak/Plague

Zombies!

.

.

.

The night was dark beyond the fire, pitch and clinging, as if someone had dipped the world in black paint.  Jacob stood at the edge of the light, on watch, one hand resting on his gun, the thumb of the other hooked around its shoulder strap. Behind him, either Sharktooth or Jade—He wasn’t sure which woman was which—tossed another log on the fire.  

He was nervous.  This was the largest group he’d been in for a while.  Over fifty people.  Little groups squished together by circumstance and the fact that scavenging only got harder as time went on.  There was talk of finding a town somewhere, one that hadn’t been damaged too badly, and making a settlement.  Something permanent.  Something secure.  

Jacob’s stomach turned over.  He’d tried that before.  The Coliseum.  It hadn’t worked out well, even if that was where he had met Mack.

Some of them were talking about trying for Sacramento or Rock City or the Valley.  There was civilization there, just a touch of it, according to radio waves one of the techies picked up on good days.

Jacob had tried that, too.  Sacramento, at least.  That hadn’t turned out well, either.  

Of all the things to fear during a zombie apocalypse, other humans were definitely at the top of Jacob’s list.  Heck, he was only here in the first place because of Mack and how much they needed information.  

“So,” said one of the women, Jacob thought it was Sharktooth, languidly.  “Who’s bored?”

Bored was probably the wrong word to describe anyone living through this mess.  At the same time…

Well, Sharktooth got quite a response.

“We’re from all over, right?  So, we’ve probably all got stories.  Tales.  Places we’ve seen or hear of.  Might as well share while we’re here, right?  Who knows when we’ll be around this many people again?”

“You’re not staying?” asked Jade, clearly taken aback.

“Haven’t decided yet,” said Sharktooth, shooting a glance at leader of the largest of the gathering’s constituent groups. “Maybe if there was a plan…”  She shrugged.  “But, hey.  All of us are here, now, right?  We might as well make the best of it.”

“Why don’t you start, then?” asked Mack, a little belligerently.  So, yeah, that was definitely Sharktooth.  She and Mack had been having a thing since Jacob and Mack joined the group. Not a romantic thing, Sharktooth had to be a decade older than Mack, but still a thing.  

“Sure,” said Sharktooth.  “Why not?”  Jacob watched her crouch down next to the fire out of the corner of his eye.  “Ever hear of the phantom city?”

There was muttering.  “Everywhere’s a ghost town, now,” said someone, a little louder than the rest.  “You don’t need to rub it in.”

“And we don’t need more nightmares,” added another.

“Nah, this isn’t a ghost story.  Just a weird story.  Well, the town was supposed to be haunted before, but I’m pretty sure that was just a tourist thing.  Anyway, they’re a broadcaster.  You know, radio spam.  All that ‘Hey, here we are’ stuff.  Like Sacremento.”

“Yeah?” prompted someone.  “What’s the city called?”

“Amity Park.  And if you’re in Illinois, you can probably catch their broadcast.  But good luck finding it.  There’s a reason it’s called the phantom city.  When I was going up through Ohio, I met people who’d tried to find it.  Never could.”

“Why were they in Ohio if they were looking for a city in Illinois?” asked Mack.  “Seems kind of dumb.”

“Well, they’d given up,” said Sharktooth.  “Couldn’t justify searching anymore.  They were mad about it, too.  They had maps, they had coordinates, radios to pick up the broadcast, everything. Heck, they said they had road signs. Exits off the highway marked with the name.  But as soon as they got close…”  She waved her hands dramatically.  “Nothing. Even the broadcast went silent.”

“Hey, hold up, I think I’ve heard of that!” interjected a member of Sharktooth’s audience.  “There was just a hole in the ground or something.”

“Yep.  But when they got farther away, the broadcast started up again.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a ghost story.”

Sharktooth shrugged.  “Might not be ghosts,” she said.  “Might be people trying to lure people in.  A trap, or something.  Or maybe they had some kind of automated broadcast set up, and it kept going after the town got wrecked.  I don’t know.”  

Jacob looked over his shoulder just in time to see a corner of Jade’s lip twitch up.  “If you want to talk about ghost stories, why not the Phantom?”

Jacob groaned.  He wasn’t the only one.  

“Oh, come on!” said Mack, protesting.  “Don’t be like that, he’s real!”

“Have you ever met anyone who actually said they met him?” asked Sharktooth, practically.  “It’s all friend of a friend stuff.”

“So’s Amity Park,” muttered Jade.

“I’ve met him!” protested Mack.  

“Wait, what, really?” asked Jade, sounding like she’d just been slapped.  

“Yeah!  It was before I met Jacob.  I was traveling with…”  He trailed off.  “Some… People.  We got jumped by a pack, and I thought I was going to die, but Phantom showed up and he fought them off with just a machete!  It was super cool.  And, like, I got bitten, but he injected me with that green stuff, just like in the stories, and I was fine!  Well, not completely fine.  I was kind of sick, after, but I didn’t turn, obviously.  And then he brought me to Mastersoft Coliseum, because it was, you know, before it got wrecked.  That’s where I met Jacob!”

“What did he look like?” asked one of the younger members of the group.  

“Well, I never really got a good look at him, to be honest?  He was sort of wearing, uh, layers.  Not quite one of those, um, hazmat suit type deals, I don’t think, but he had a mask. And his eyes were super green!  It was wild.”  He shrugged.  “Also, I was kind of out of it…  Like I said, I was pretty sick.  Barely remember what he said to me…”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Yeah, maybe if you told it better, we’d believe it!”

“Hey!  I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

“Whoa, hey,” said Sharktooth, mercifully stopping Mack from stripping.  “You don’t have to—"

“Hello the camp!”

Jacob cursed and brought up his gun, his action mirrored by the others on watch.  That voice was far too close for comfort.  Even in the dark, someone should have noticed something.  

Why was this guy wandering around in the dark?

“I come in peace!  I bring medical supplies and zucchini!”

“Show yourself!” barked Jacob.  

“I’m just—Ah.  I’m just right here.”  

Finally, movement.  Jacob thumbed on his flashlight (and tried very hard not to think about how soon he’d have to replace the batteries).  

“Ow.  Bright,” complained the teenager in front of him.  Jacob stared.  The kid was even younger than Mack.  

Was Mack even a teenager anymore…?  It had been years.  They’d missed some birthdays.  

Point being, there was no way this kid was out here on his own.  

“Where are the rest of you?” demanded Jacob.  

“Uh,” said the kid.  “Nowhere?  I’m out here on my own.”  He waved his hands back and forth expressively but was careful to keep them in Jacob’s line of sight.  His poncho flapped back and forth in the night breeze, concealing his figure.  

The kid could be wearing anything under there. Guns, bombs, swords... anything.

“Poncho,” snapped Jacob.  “Take it off.”  He was aware that the whole camp was tense and awake behind him, searching for other enemies, bracing themselves to run at a moment’s notice.

“Okay,” said the kid.  “I really am alone, you know.  Sorry to startle you all.”  He pulled the poncho off, revealing that, despite it being the least likely thing on Jacob’s very short list of possibilities, the kid was wearing a sword.  No, he was wearing two of them.  

“What are the swords for?”

“Uh,” said the kid, giving him a look like he was an idiot.  “Killing zombies?  I mean, what’s the gun for?  Who walks around without a weapon, these days, right?”

Closer to the fire, the group’s illustrious de facto leader was giving orders to search for whoever the kid was with.  

The kid rolled his eyes.  “Do whatever you want to make yourselves feel better, but I am alone.  I’m not bait, or whatever you’re thinking.”

“You’re, like, fourteen,” said Sharktooth.  “You would have been, what, eleven when the plague hit?  No way you’re on your own.”

“Excuse you, but I’m eighteen, thanks.  I blame my permanent baby face on my parents. Speaking of, you don’t happen to have a Jack or Maddie Fenton anywhere in there, do you?”

“There’s no one out here!” shouted one of the searchers, voice echoing slightly.  

The kid shrugged.  “I told you.  I mean, I get why you’re cautious and all, I’ve been jumped a couple times, but still.”

The group watched him uneasily.  

“You’re looking for your parents?” asked Sharktooth, finally.  

“Yep.  For a while, now.  They were away from home when, you know, everything went down.”

Alright.  Now this was just getting awkward.  And a little pathetic.  

“Do you know where they were, at least?” asked Mack.  Of course, Mack would sympathize.  He had his own parental issues.  

There was something odd about his tone, however. Something off.  

“Yeah.  Nevada. Specifically, Phoenix.  But it’s been years, so they could be anywhere.  Hence the searching.  I’ve actually been to Nevada.  It kind of sucks down there, to be honest, because, well, it’s a desert, but that also means there aren’t as many zombies, because apparently they get dehydrated, too, after a while.  So. That’s interesting.”

“You’ve been to Nevada?” asked their wise leader.

“Yeah.  A bunch of other places, too, like I said, I’ve been searching.  I can do a story swap if you’d like.  Also, I have zucchinis.  Yesterday, I stayed at this one house and there were just.  So many zucchinis.  Like, the entire yard was overrun with zucchinis.  Zucchinis are edible, and you can’t turn your nose up at fresh produce in this economy, but I have no idea how to prepare zucchinis, and they’re honestly a little, uh, bland?  Let’s call it bland.  To just eat raw.  So, I’m willing to trade for, you know, not being shot.”

“You said you had medical supplies?” asked Jade.

“Yeah, a bit!  Not, like, a huge amount, but it seemed like the thing to say.  Is anyone hurt?”

Their heroic leader took a moment to consider this. “Not right now.  But, alright.  We can swap stories.  What’s your name?”

“Danny.  Danny Fenton.”  The kid made a motion that might have been intended as a salute.  

“Right.  Jacob, you can stop it with your tough-guy act.”

Very reluctantly, Jacob lowered the gun.  The kid, Danny or whatever, was way too cheerful for an eighteen-year-old walking through a zombie apocalypse on his own. Something was up.  

Of course, that something might just be godawful coping mechanisms.  

“Anyway, here are the zucchinis.”  The boy held out a bag, a hopeful smile on his face. “So, uh, stories?  Preferably about places where there’s a bunch of people, because that’s the kind of place they’d go.”

“Right, sure,” said the man who claimed leadership. “What are your parents, anyway?”

“Ah, they’re doctors!” said the boy.  “I want to bring them home, so they can figure out a cure.”

Okay.  So, the kid was delusional.  Right. Well, it happened.  

“I mean, we’ve had some success, but they’re specialists, you know?  When I say ‘we’ I mean Amity Park as a whole, by the way.  I’m the one who had the basic idea, I guess, but I didn’t have any way to follow through on my own.  Observing a fact doesn’t mean you can take advantage of it, after all!”

“Amity Park?”

“Yep!  That’s where I’m from.”  Danny shot finger guns at Sharktooth.  “We’ve got an environmental deterrent for zombies.  Chemical in the air screws with the virus.  Some get in every once in a while, but they usually die in a week, even if you leave them alone, which we don’t.  It’s pretty safe, there.  I can give you a map.”

“Is this a joke?” demanded the ‘leader.’

“Um, no?  Why would it be a joke?”

“I met some people who tried to find your town, but it was a crater,” said Sharktooth.  

“That’s still going on, huh?”  Danny shook his head.  “Yeah, we don’t really know why it does that, either.  Or was that a couple years ago?  We were trying to fix it…”  He trailed off.  “What?”

“You said you had medical supplies?” prompted the man trying very hard to stay in charge.  

“Ah, right.”  The kid reached into his bulkier bag and pulled out a large box. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone else trying to make a cure?  Mom and Dad could be working with them, and if not,” he shrugged, then flipped up the lid of the box, “collaboration is always good.”

Half the box was full of various bottles, packets, and smaller boxes.  Normal enough. The other half, though…

“Is that radioactive?” asked Jacob, unable to stop himself as he stared at the…  God, were those epi-pens?

“Not in the sense you’re thinking of, but yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Mack.  “I knew it!  You’re Phantom!”

Danny looked up.  “Um.  I guess we’ve met?”

“Yeah, you took me to the Mastersoft Coliseum! That’s the stuff you injected me with!”

“Oh, you were the kid the Boom Box Raiders were dragging around!”

“Oh.  Yeah,” said Mack, weakly.  “That’s me.”

“Nice to see you’re still around.  Anyway, to answer your next question, this is the prophylactic.”  He picked up one of the glowing green injection pens.  “At least, that’s what some of the doctors back home call it? If you get it within a minute of being bitten or scratched or whatever, preferably in the area near the wound, you have an eighty percent survival rate.  Sometime more can help fighting off the disease, but if you’re not acclimated, you can go into shock with too much, and there’s really no way to get acclimated out here.”

“You’re willing to trade something like that?” asked Jade, dubiously.  

“Why not?  Like I said, it’s environmental where we live.”

“But you’re not there, now.  You’re out here.  Same as the rest of us.”

“That’s true.  But I’ve got enough of this in my bloodstream to straight-up kill any zombie that wants to bite me.  Really. I can show you the scars if you want.” He raised an eyebrow.  Then he turned to their ever so brilliant leader with a sharp smile.  “By the way, you should rethink robbing me.  I am very willing to trade, but if you attack me, I have dozens of ways to kill you.  Most of them don’t even involve my swords.”

“It’s true,” said Mack.  

“You know what?” said Jacob, stepping a little closer to Danny, or Phantom, or whoever this kid was trying to be.  “Why don’t you show us those scars.  Then we can decide if we even want to trade with you.”

Phantom shrugged.  “Fair enough.”

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapter 7

Hi friends! Sorry for the delay here. I’ve been on vacation, so my priorities have been boozin’ and cruisin’. Thanks for your continued support of this story—I love hearing your feedback. This one’s a whopper of a chapter!

______

We often lose track of time in this great, big world of ours, in much the same way we lose a pair of keys, a couple of pens. “I swear I saw them two seconds ago!” we groan, groping to purse-bottoms, finding only lint and chump-change. So many things—these small facets of our lives—sucked into the void of bygones, taken before we can ever think to tie them down.

“I swear I was twenty-two just yesterday.”

This is how it is for Jamie and Claire, their years like old playbills confiscated by the wind and an invisible clock. Certain acts reappear from time to time, when the arm of a broom sweeps them into the light, when the frosting of dust disturbs, then floats. And for a brief moment, as the particles of time and forget resettle themselves, Jamie and Claire can hear their lives’ most glorious crescendos. The lowest notes tip-toe from the long-kept silence, rising and sinking slowly, steadily. All plucked strings, still vibrating, until the echoes die, cradling the past.

You can write an entire story with these bits and pieces of their lives, cut the acts together to form one winding opera. It plays and stops until, eventually, the grand finale. The overlap: a perfect harmony which carries them from their separate wings, to center stage and to each other.

And it is there, finally, that they meet again, lips and lives melding. They stand together in the orb of the spotlight. A single sun, glowing.

THE SPIRIT IN THE HORSE, 2000

Starring James Fraser, Jenny Fraser, Brian Fraser, The Doctor, Ellen Fraser, Fitzy (and a More-Than-Flash of Someone Else)

Though a bestselling author, JAMES FRASER did not grow up with dreams of books, but of horses.

He was born on an unusually hot day, spring 1968. Everything melting at its very seams, the birthing room’s thermometer feverish with mercury blood. His father and sister had fashioned fans from intake forms, moving heat-murk and birth-stink with the accordioned papers. They looked on with damp foreheads, lips white and tight, so that Ellen could have the breaths they saved.

At half-past noon, the doctor had caught Jamie’s auburn crown, dripping more heavily than his own laboring mother. All of this—the heat, the sweat, the waving forms—was taken as the stamp of Jamie’s fate. Surely, they had all agreed, he would set the world on fire, would be a brand forever puckering its skin.

The hibernators had emerged early that year, scurrying from their earthen wombs just as Jamie had slipped from his mother’s. Heat-drunk and dizzied, they had eaten everything in sight. Corn stalks, cabbage leaves, whole fields of barley—gone. Even Ellen’s strawberries, barely ripened—devoured by mid-April. The red fruits had shrunk to halves, then thirds, as the creatures munched and munched. Fleshy hearts eaten to bleeding, the pulp left to the sleepy stragglers.

And so on the day Jamie entered the world, the Frasers had returned to a dark and stifling house. Rot wafted from the windows, and the electrical wires were chewed cleanly through. One rabbit, the chosen martyr, had laid cooked in the grass, fur spiked.

Brian had thrust Jamie into his daughter’s arms, ran inside to rescue what unspoiled food he could (three eggs, a loaf of bread). Waiting in the yard, Jenny had imagined the wilting lettuce inside the fridge and Ellen, equally wilted under the blue hospital sheet. She had watched a squirrel leap across the berry guts, a rope of black wire between his paws.

How—if at all, she had wondered—would they survive without her mother?

Too exhausted for a trip to the store, Brian had fried the eggs on the driveway. The yolk was thick in his mouth and the sorrow thicker in his chest, before he realized Jamie’s cries had quieted. He started when he heard the horse’s whinny, the snorty exhale through its nostrils. Beside him, Jenny had scuttled away, feet scraping at the egg crusts.

Incensed by the heat and the crowd, Fitzy the horse had stormed her stable doors to freedom. She had brayed, desolate to find her owner gone, until she spotted the flame in Brian’s arms. Copper, auburn, cinnabar—all Ellen’s colors—poking from a swaddle of blue. And so Fitzy had bowed her head, brought Jamie into her awed silence. One shining moment, the first since Ellen’s passing—calm and peaceful.

Even now, 32 years later, Jamie loves to tell this story. How Brian had pressed his baby fist to the mane, his mother still a stickiness on his baby thumb. And how, as a young boy, Jamie had thought Ellen lived somewhere inside auld Fitzy. Something in the black bead of the mare’s eye: a flash, a peculiar spark. It was an acknowledgement that, until one night in 1989, Jamie had never felt before.

After his book tour in ’99, Jamie Fraser decided to take the leap—carpe diem—and purchase his own horse and his own land (fields way out in the Highlands; a farmhouse converted to splendor by his millions). The horse, like Fitzy, wears a chestnut coat. She is stubborn but loving, recognizes Jamie’s voice when he calls and his face when it floats above her stable door. He sees a flash of Fitzy—and of his mother, he thinks—when she surrenders her anger to Jamie’s flags of truce: a fresh Granny Smith, a carrot stick plucked from the ground. He sees a More-Than-Flash of Someone Else when she nudges his shoulder, apologetic. The only source of happiness, this beautiful beast, outside of his writing.

“Ye see?” Jamie had said after their first standoff, “Ye canna stay mad at me forever.” And when the horse had chomped the apple from his hand, he’d sworn that she was smiling.

“Mo nighean donn,” he’d whispered, and decided, then and there, to name her Sorcha.

______

CARROLL’S THEORY OF TRUTH, 2003

Starring Claire Randall, Frank Randall, Joe Abernathy, duncandonuts, wetwillie, mark_me_1745, parsleymarsley, l.mackenzie (and The Author)

When CLAIRE RANDALL is not working at the hospital, her nose is pressed to a blue-white screen.

For years, she had resisted those monstrous, blocky machines—Macintosh, Dell, Gateway—all brand names accompanied by her husband’s greedy and jabbing elbows.

But there was value in tradition, Claire had argued. A kind of sanctity in the ping of an Underwood or the swish of pen; privacy and authentic connection. Frank had merely rolled his eyes, always lusting after the new and shiny—whether it was a computer or a student’s gloss-plumped lips—knowing it was not “tradition” itself that his wife was holding onto.

“So like you, Claire,” he’d said bitterly one day, “wanting to stay stuck in the past.” And, of course, he’d been right. Just to spite him, she’d finally surrendered and gave him one for Christmas.

Gradually, Claire came to love the whirring engine, the wail of the dial-up, the period of isolation where she was unreachable by phone. Like time travel, almost, the way it took her places past and present, opening every door like some futuristic gentleman.

But mostly, Claire loved the computer for the freedom it gave her. Boot up the system, click the mouse, log on, be someone else. Online, Claire could play a different role than the surgeon or the amateur gardener, pretend she was not the wife who turned her cheek as often as she made her husband’s dinner. On the Internet, her identity was a thirty-word bio, her face a grey silhouette displayed comfortably—anonymously—inside a neat, square frame. A million different bodies growing inside her, once her fingers flew across keyboard:

Claire Randall, the British spy.

Claire Randall, the avid hiker, climbing the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Claire Randall, the mother, who loved the melt of ice cream down her daughter’s chin. Her tiny mouth, sweet and sugared, when it met hers for a kiss.

One website, her favorite, was this: a forum, populated by other faceless humans who, like Claire, could recite page 451 (or any others) of A Blade of Grass. In this corner of the online universe, they had spoken of The Author on a first-name basis, trading facts like prized baseball cards. But it was only Claire who could share the most private knowledge, attribute it all to her keen nose and thus earn the respect of 16 anonymous users.

Even so, Claire had been surprised by what they knew solely through their reading. The Author’s childhood, his relationships, his favorite color. She was able to ask her own prodding questions and receive correct answers, such as:

whiteraven: A long shot, but does anyone know how to contact him by telephone?

And five of the grey-faced few had responded.

duncandonuts: easier to send him send him a letter (might get lost among the rest of his fan mail though).

wetwillie: have you tried his agent, john grey, in london?

mark_me_1745: if u meet him, tell him 2 come 2 brasil!!!!!!! we <3 him!!!!!!!

parsleymarsali: Publishers Weekly mentioned he’s now with Geordie Gibbons at the Claude F. Agency, not Grey, @wetwillie. Think it had something to do with creative differences and missed deadlines.

l.mackenzie: pass that info onto _me_ if you find it, girl! <g>

By a stroke of luck, someone had known someone who’d known someone who’d known someone. And just like that, she was given a phone number the following Wednesday. A day like any other, if it weren’t for a single string of digits sitting in her inbox, a silent but ticking grenade.

She spent three months with the numbers inside her head, stored in a folder marked with The Author’s name. She did manage to call though—once—when her hand finally lowered from its hover. She’d waited out the sonorous ring-ring-ring, the robotic chime, “You have reached the voice mailbox of..." She had listened to the beep that followed and then the silence, stretching, until she remembered her mouth. It opened, exhaled, then shut abruptly with the click of her teeth. There was the clatter of keys and the thwop of a briefcase—Frank home from work.

She had almost whispered, but did not.

It was too much to have both men in the same room: one gently pecking her lips, the other pressing an electric current into her cheek, crackling. Too much, too much. Claire had slammed the phone down and cursed, “Bloody teleprompter. Always calling before dinner,” which had made her husband laugh. She’d made him spaghetti that night, the spices forming twelve digits in the saucepan no matter how many times she swirled the spoon.

It’s been four months since that first and only call, though Claire still remembers The Author’s number. She thinks of if—when—she will have the courage to call again, to finally speak and fill the space of eleven empty years. While Frank snores beside her, she plays the scene from start to finish, like a draft of the real, inevitable thing.

Again: the sonorous ring, the tinny greeting, the beep, and the silence that waits for her. But this time: her mouth opens—one, two three times—and five words repeated, again and again.

In some versions, she says them aloud. In others, merely pushes them, soundless, into the air. Still, they are there, held aloft by satellite arms high up in the sky. Somewhere between her and The Author, existing: I was born for you, I was born for you, I was born for you.

And what is said three times—even unfinished, even without words—is always, always true.

______

THREE TIMES THE WORLD ENDED , 2004

Starring Jamie Fraser, Jenny Fraser, and Laoghaire Mackenzie (and The Girl)

JAMES FRASER, age 34, can pinpoint three moments where his world fell apart.

He was eighteen during the first, a brazen thing, but still as green as the pot freshly stinking his Levi’s. After reading the call notice pasted to his door, he’d floated to the common room on a cloud of White Widow weed. He dialed, laughing, until Jenny’s voice had sobbed down the line, breaking the peace of his druggy fug.

Their father, she’d cried, had died the previous evening.

With the news, the had drugs turned. Floors slanted, limbs jellied. Jamie watched as a hole ripped open the wall behind him, its enormous black void revealing the space Brian Fraser had left behind. It had swallowed Jamie up, refused to spit him back again until The Girl reached inside and found his heart two years later. Returned it to him, like a love note, passed on the inside of her smile.

Jamie describes the second collapse in his two famous novels, A Blade of Grass and Two Centuries in Purgatory. This time, the world had split completely, Jamie and The Girl like two tectonic plates shifting in the night. It was his writing that had bound Jamie’s world together again, though the spine remained cracked, a few of the pages missing.

The third time occurred just last week though Jamie was not entirely surprised. It’s what happens, he supposes, when you build something on uneven ground. Physical presence—someone’s here-ness—does not equate to love.

Nine years after the second earthquake, a new person had come into Jamie’s life. She would stand in the doorway at 6:30PM, jump to her tip-toes to welcome him home. There would be steam from the stove, and utensils would gleam in perfect, shining order. Napkins would wait with their patient folds, each prepared to catch the food that she, his ever-present Laoghaire, had prepared during the day. And for those three years, Laoghaire’s toothbrush had sat next to Jamie’s, her silks hanging beside his cottons. Evidence, he had thought, that he maybe-almost loved her.

But then Laoghaire had grown curious—“Why’ve no made progress on yer novel? What are ye writing all day if it isna yer third book?”—and stuck her piglet nose into places it did not belong. She, in a rare moment of ingenuity, had unlocked the safe and found his letters.

And so this time, Jamie’s world had not ripped or split—but exploded with a thousand sticks of paper dynamite. Laoghaire had burned through the house, burned through the letters. She’d called the magazines and the bloggers, vowing to tarnish his reputation with lies: cheater, drunk, lunatic, fraud. Finally, she’d left, taking the napkins, the cutlery, and the toothbrush—but leaving the embers in her wake, smoldering. A few scraps had avoided the fire, and Jamie read them as the night rose.

My da once told me I’d know straight away, that I’d have no doubt. And I didn’t.

For so many years, for so long, I have been so many different men.

The love of you was my soul.

and

Yours, Jamie

Forever, Jamie

Come home, my heart. I am not as brave as I was before, Jamie

On and on and on they went. Singed pieces of his letters. Every one meant for The Girl who’d confronted his darkness, had rescued his heart at a Christmas Eve party.

4,380. One letter for every day he had missed her.

______

THE KILLING GIRL, 2006

Starring Claire Randall*, Henry Beauchamp, Julia Beauchamp, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, Frank Randall (and The One Person)

CLAIRE RANDALL* , resident at Boston GH, was five years old when she thought she was murderer. For years, she could hardly sleep, fearing not the monster beneath her bed, but the one beneath her covers.

Instead of counting sheep, she’d recounted facts as they’d been reported in the paper: Henry and Julia Beauchamp, parents of one Claire Beauchamp. Their mangled car, and a rocky deathbed set one hundred feet below. Both husband and wife, father and mother—dead upon impact.

Rarely, did this guide Claire towards sleep, and so she began to picture the accident as she’d recorded it in her diary. The same story, but more accurate—one that played behind her eyelids as if she had watched it all, a spectator on the road’s shoulder.

There was her parents’ blue Ford ribboning the cliffside. The low hum of conversation and the static of the radio. There was Claire’s goodbye before they left—“You always go without me! IhateyouIhateyou!”— which followed her parents and pushed them off the edge. She was sure it was her words that had broken her mother’s neck, had snapped it like a flower’s stem. One Claire Beauchamp, the little killing girl.

Five years passed before Lamb had found her in the courtyard, weeping her guilt into a mat of grey feathers. She had confessed to her five-year old anger then; how she’d pried open the rocky mouth and dropped her parents in.

“Death doesn’t move according to reason, my dear,” Lamb had said, “but only chance. And by no fault of yours.” He had patted her on the head like a priest grants forgiveness, and they buried the bird in the Nyungwe Forest. Wings and Claire’s blame laid to rest beneath the trees.

Still, Claire likes how accountability sets her world—so wracked by coincidence—back on its axis. Responsibility, however false, is easier to accept than the fickleness of husbands, of dead parents, of love and life. She assumes the role of the guilty to feel a sense of control, like she herself is in charge of the scale’s tip. And so:

It was Claire’s fault that the frost returned in May, all her marigold suns snuffed out.

It was Claire’s fault that the infection took the wound, gnawed the patient’s flesh so that a saw had to chop the bone.

It was Claire’s fault that midnight voices chirped down the receiver. The girls’ lovesick pleas—I need you. I love you. Leave her.—placed in Frank’s pockets by Claire’s own hands.

And of course, it was Claire’s fault that things had ended as they did. The final fight, every bit of hate, hers to claim:

“I am not an idiot, Frank! And I’m tired of being made into one.”

“Darling, you aren’t an idiot. I never said you were an idiot.”

“Don’t bloody ‘darling’ me, you bloody cad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How novel.”

“Truly, I am.”

“So that’s it, then? Just ‘I’m sorry.’ No excuses? No begging-on-bended-knee?” (Claire had scoffed. Her laughter, like the paring knife that guts the beast.) “No, of course not. Begging would be too embarrassing for you. Too much effort. All your energy is spent chasing skirts and quick fucks. You selfish, disgusting man.”

“So I’m the only selfish one here, is that it? Just me?”

“You’re saying that I’m selfish?”

“I am.”

“Me.”

“Yes, you, Claire! You, who is always working and never here. You, who sleeps with his books under our mattress, still wears the man’s goddamn ring on a chain. Like a fucking noose around our marriage, from the start.” (Claire had winced; Frank’s knuckles had cracked the wall.) “No, I’m not selfish, Claire. I’ve shared you with another man for thirteen years.”

“So I see you’ve lost all sense, but still have some fucking nerve."

“Cursing doesn’t improve your argument.”

“Wanker.”

“Now Claire…”

“Just go.”

“Claire, please—”

“Go.”

And thus, it was Claire’s fault that Frank had whispered, “You’ve never looked at me. Not once, not really.” And it was her fault that he had grabbed his keys, slipped into the blizzard and into his car.

And it was Claire—Claire, Claire, Claire—who became the ice that hissed against tires. Who launched Frank’s body through the glass, turned his skin purple-blue and the snow dark red. Her fault that the last thing she’d said was “go”, and Frank had taken her at her very word.

All of this, she has put upon her shoulders, for its burden is lesser than the truth: that she has no control, never did and never would. Claire is forever held at the mercy of a capricious gravity—she and everyone else, a little bit helpless. Always.

But there was One Person, she often remembers, who had given her a kind of foothold. On their wedding night, she had whispered about her mother’s flower neck, about the grey bird whose wings she’d given to the Nyungwe. And he had understood, promised forgiveness for whatever wrongs she had and would commit. “Real or imagined, Sassenach” he’d said into hair, “Already forgiven.” They had spiraled through life, the pair of them, both a little bit helpless—but everything shared.

But of all of her false faults, this is one Claire fears is true: that she is the reason The One Person is not here, but some 3,000 miles away. She was, after all, the one who had packed the suitcase and caused the gavel to fall, Divorce.

All her fault: Claire Randall. The guilty one, the killing girl, the widow. Spinning and spinning into empty space, grasping at stars, alone.

*[Note from director: Ms. Claire Randall has requested we change her name to Claire Beauchamp. Please reprint with this correction ASAP. Thank you.]

______

POINT OF CONVERGENCE, 2007

Starring Jamie Fraser (The Author, The One Person), Claire Beauchamp (A More-Than-Flash Of Someone-Else, The Girl), Geordie Gibbons

JAMES FRASER does not like to disappoint. It is his greatest fear, seeing someone’s face pull, twist, and finally droop into an expression of discontent. Even worse: when the expression is given a name, “I’m so disappointed in you, Jamie.” And worst of all: when the name is given by his agent, Geordie Gibbons.

One of the most important days of Jamie’s life began in anticipation of such disappointment. He had twiddled his thumbs beneath a table, dreading the moment Geordie’s fedora ducked beneath the restaurant’s eaves. The wait staff had milled around him: A waiter dashed towards snapping fingers, the hostess offered towels for rain-soaked heads. He’d felt jealous, watching them, of their readiness—how they could be so effortlessly on time. Jamie couldn’t even manage to meet his deadlines, the desk calendar at home flipped far beyond the designated X.

Jamie and Geordie were to have “lunch” and “catch up”. This would, inadvertently, devolve into an interrogation about Jamie’s third novel, which was nothing more than a series of working titles. It was a pattern, this lateness and lunching, never changing despite the demands and promises made by both parties. Geordie would remove his hat, exposing the frown previously shadowed beneath its brim. Their food would be served—Jamie, something yeasty; Geordie, a taxidermist’s culinary experiment—and Jamie would choke down a side of his agent’s disappointment. Eventually, they would part ways, and Jamie would return home, knock out a few pages. Turn in a shitty draft the next morning for the sake of postponing a second “lunch.”

But on this day, the universe had shifted; the pattern broke. Jamie had continued to sit there, all sweat and nerves, but Geordie’s fedora, the interrogation, and the food never came.

Because while Jamie had waited in the restaurant, CLAIRE BEAUCHAMP was arguing in her bedroom mirror: Claire vs. Claire, Head vs. Heart. She was thousands of miles away in a Boston apartment, but still—the tremor traveled, pushing a storm across the Atlantic, down the Royal Mile, to Jamie. The trajectory of his day and his life had changed as Claire gesticulated wildly at her own reflection.

So at 12:14, Jamie had been alone, Geordie unusually late for a man so fond of punctuality. He read the menu three times, settled on a whisky. Thought better of it; ordered two.

At 12:30, Claire’s battle had still raged, no victor in sight. The thunder had shaken the house, shaken the mirror on the wall.

At 12:46, Jamie had condemned Geordie, then deadlines. Art, he’d fumed, was beyond time, existed outside of it. He had ordered a third whisky when a wine spill was wiped up, gone before it had the chance to leave its mark.

At 12:48, Claire had moved to the kitchen. Both armies were advancing quickly, charging into the living room, to the yard, back to the living room, over and over. She and herself, it seemed, had reached a stalemate. Head and Heart had squatted, dripping rain, and awaited the other's surrender.

At 12:50, Claire had paused and looked through the window. She caught a glimpse of her garden, reborn and thriving despite the storm, and the sight of the marigold blooms did not reveal an emptiness inside her. She felt, for once, happy. Her Heart had stormed her Head’s walls, then, the gates of decision giving way.

At 12:51, Claire had opened her scrapbook, a secret once kept from Frank. It was filled with bits and bobs: a piece of bubble wrap, a bell from her holiday sweater. Both of them glued beside old polaroids. Again, she did not feel her Heart stutter, but expand; lift straight out of her chest. A full siege after that. Her Head’s weakest men fell beneath the lash of artery whips.

At 12:52, the end was near, and Claire’s Heart marched to her computer, hunted through years of mail. Its trophy had laid buried in a folder—one message with twelve digits—and the battle, at last, was won.

At 12:53, both Jamie and his phone had buzzed. The door opened, letting in the air. It had smelled of wet soil, earthy and ripe. Familiar, like a ghost’s kiss on the back of his neck. He put the phone to his ear, and…

At 12:53:05, he said, “Jesus, man! Where are ye? I’ve been waiting nigh on 50 minutes!” There was no response.

At 12:53:08: “Did ye get caught in the storm? Are ye calling from a pay phone?” More silence.

At 12:53:13: “Hello? Anyone there?”

At 12:53:20: “Geordie, man, is that you?”

At 12:53:25: A deep, shaking breath. An audible gulp. Claire’s Heart whispering its victory song.

12:53:26: “It’s isn’t Geordie.”

12:53:27: “It’s me.”

And at 12:53:28, everywhere, suddenly—the brightest sun.

Phew! This chapter is one of the longest, but it’s also one of my favorites. The structure is lifted straight from Fates and Furies—there’s a chapter that is just a series of the protagonist’s plays—and I was looking to try something new (it also weirdly fits in with the tone of the chapter introductions). In my opinion, the best thing about writing fanfiction is that you have so much room to experiment.

This structure also allowed me to do what I’d been wanting to do from the beginning: move away from the One Day conceit and explore Jamie and Claire’s pasts. It was very easy to just run with any image or idea that came to mind—we know so little about their childhoods; there are so many possibilities!

And speaking of why fanfiction is so awesome—and I mentioned this in another post—but it’s a blast figuring out how to incorporate canon into an AU setting. Using canon dialogue can boost the emotional punch of a line in a way that is just *chef’s kiss*. “I was born for you.” “I am not as brave as I was before.” Ugh, kill me.

I have to whistle past some of the melodrama and Frank’s computer craze (wouldn’t he also be a typewriter sort of person???). And modern!Bonnie Prince Charlie’s Brazil comment still tickles me. This is not meant as an offense to Brazilians—y’all are just always on *clap* it *clap*, and I love your enthusiasm.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[cosmic-coyote7]

Speed write from suggestions via Twitter

[ Lukanette - Camp Rock AU ]

(Kinda camp rock but sorta touched the second movie more. Oh well. ^^)

~☆~♡~☆~

The sun rose above the cabins that formed a circle around a vast (and currently extinguished) firepit. The cabins were worn with their peeling paint and screen windows with holes in them, but many memories were contained in these structures. Countless lyrics had been written, hundreds of songs performed, and scores of various instruments had been housed here with their talented owners.

A sign at the entrance to the driveway declared this isolated place Camp Rock.

Legends had lived here and learned to find their voices and their talents. Being able to go here was a major opportunity and many worked hard for the chance to perform here.

One such performer was Luka Couffaine. Sixteen years-old and having been playing guitar since he was five, he lived and breathed music.

He hooked up his electric guitar into its amplifier as his fellow bandmate, Ivan, got behind his drums. His sister and bassist, Juleka, copied him in hooking up her instrument that was like another part of her body.

Ivan counted them down as Luke tested his microphone then ran his fingers over the strings, his electric blue guitar pick gleaming in the early morning sun. 

They began practicing, their sound projecting out over the campsite and beyond over the water.

Various campers began waking up and groggily making their way outside. Some people were jamming out with the band and dancing along to the sound, but most just looked annoyed at being woken up by loud rock music.

One of the few who looked grumpy was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She had once admired Luka, but she knew now he was a stuck up pretty boy who thought he was king of the camp because of his talent. 

They were rivals. 

Marinette preferred to sing and play piano. Luka could sing, too, but the guitar was his forte.

After the song was over, Luka jumped down from the stage and grinned broadly at Marinette, his dark and dyed hair already sweaty. 

He looked pretty, she gave him that, but she still didn't like his attitude. 

"How was that, Dupain-Cheng?" he asked smugly.

"It didn't put me back to sleep," Marinette offered. A few people snickered. 

Luka chuckled and backed up, his smirk prominent. "You ready for the battle of the bands tonight, Dupain-Cheng?"

Marinette’s smile was challenging. "You bet. Kitty Section will be blown away by Miraculous."

"That's my girl!" Alya Cesaire, the drummer for her band, stood proudly at her friend's side. 

Luka simply nodded then went back to join his own bandmates.

….

Later that afternoon, Marinette was hanging out with her own bandmates that made up her group, Miraculous. 

Their bassist (and sometimes pianist), Adrien Agreste, watched as she paced around and continuously fidgeted with her hair. "You okay, Mari?" he asked, concern in his bright green eyes.

Marinette scowled as she crossed her arms. "That Luka Couffaine thinks he's so cool and amazing," she huffed.

"I mean…" Alya turned her laptop around to show Marinette Kitty Section's Instagram and website. "They have over ten thousand followers."

"Half of them are simps for Luka," Adrien said dryly.

"He is pretty," Alya said fairly. "Talent and looks can get you ahead of the game."

Marinette rolled her eyes, not wanting to be reminded of Luka's sparkling eyes or his bright smile…

Anyway.

"We need to blow them out of the water at the battle of the bands," she said with determination. 

"Well, we're supposed to do covers tonight," Alya said. "Why don't we just focus on the topic we were given?"

"What was it again?" 

"Julie and the Phantoms," Adrien answered, his eyes twinkling. "We've been practicing 'Finally Free', remember?"

Marinette groaned and flopped down, resting her head in Alya's lap. "I'm so nervous. We need to be perfect tonight."

"I mean we'll be steller," Alya insisted, smiling as she patted Marinette’s head. "But we should just have fun," she continued as she gave Marinette her water bottle and the other sat up to drink. "You should just end this rivalry with Luka and kiss already."

Marinette choked and spat out her water as the fluid got down her windpipe and back up her nose as she coughed.

Adrien snickered, and Marinette threw a shoe at him in retaliation. 

"I do not wanna kiss Luka!" Marinette snapped, her cheeks flaming red like she had a sunburn.

"Mhm," Adrien and Alya said at the same time with twin tones of disbelief.

"I hate you both," Marinette grumbled as she grabbed her keyboard to continue practice. 

….

Luka chuckled as Juleka and her girlfriend, Rose, worked on adding sparkly designs to the instruments and jacket sleeves to look extra vibrant for battle of the bands.

"I'm so excited!" Rose gushed as she fiddled with Juleka’s jacket sleeve. She normally was their lead singer, but a cold had put her on vocal rest. She was already a chatterbox, so the best they could do was restrict her singing. "You guys are going to do an amazing 'Now or Never' cover!"

"Thanks, Rose," Ivan said as he tapped on his drums and adjusted their equipment. His smile was sweet.

"Miraculous is going to be a difficult rival," Juleka murmured in her usual soft tone.

Luka sighed. "We can handle them." His guitar strumming became a tad more aggressive. "The audience won't be able to take their eyes off of us." 

He took a pull from his water bottle, trying not to let the hostility take over and affect his playing. 

Rose smiled brightly as she dropped on the log Luka and Juleka were lounging on. They liked this spot on the shore of the lake. It was quiet over here. Peaceful.

"Yeah, but we know you won't be able to take your eyes off Marinette, Luka." 

Luka inhaled some water down the wrong pipe and choked for a minute as Ivan helpfully pounded him on the back. Knowing that was going to bruise his spine tomorrow, he scowled at Rose.

"You know it's true," Rose said with an upturned nose as she resumed her work with glitter.

Luka harrumphed as he grabbed his guitar and began to play more forcefully. "Come on. We have to practice."

….

"Welcome, rockers!" The head counselor, Clara Nightingale, beamed at the sea of campers that had gathered around the stage, eager faces upturned to gaze at the performers for tonight. 

"Is everyone having a good time?" Clara called. The campers cheered, their voices projecting out over the lake, sounding like a crowd at a real concert. 

Marinette was pacing up and down. She and her bandmates were huddled in a tented area to have privacy for changing and warming up. 

"Mari, will you chill? We got this." His smile was warm and encouraging, but Marinette still felt the jitters of stage fright. She, who burst into song practically everywhere she went, was nervous. It was a weird feeling.

Alya smiled as she finished her make up and put an arm around Marinette. "Don't worry about the competition part. Just rock their socks off, girl!"

Marinette smiled at her two best friends then joined them in a group hug. "You guys are the best."

….

Kitty Section was playing their best. That was obvious to everyone. Luka was shredding the notes and letting the entire camp hear just what his guitar was capable of.

Juleka’s deep bass added a mystical melody to the higher electric cords.

Ivan's drums boomed like thunder amongst the string instruments, their rendering of the opening song for Julie and the Phantoms was causing the audience to scream and jump around.

"We ain't searching for tomorrow..."

Ivan's deeper voice could be heard even over the wailing instruments. 

"Tomorrow," Juleka echoed him, her voice hypnotic. After she came out of her shell, she had found her singing voice.

"Because we've got all we need today,"

"Today," Juleka choruses.

Luka grinned at his sister then got up to his mic. 

"Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins"

Juleka stepped up to her microphone and belted out, 

"We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain!" 

She flipped her hair back as she held the last note, and the crowd went nuts.

They clapped along with the audience singing the chorus then rounded off the song. They took a bow and smiled hugely at their fellow campers. 

Marinette, who was standing off to the side of the stage, couldn't help but be entranced by Luka and how alive he looked up on stage. He was amazing…

….

Her jitters were gone. Her fears a mere memory.

Marinette had never felt so free than when she was performing on stage with her bandmates.

Adrien and Alya added their backing vocals as she sang 'Finally Free' with all the energy she could muster.

"We're all bright now

What a sight now 

Coming out like we're fireworks,"

Marinette giggled as Adrien jumped around and stamped his feet. He was a goofball, and she knew he found his happiness in music to escape his life at home.

"Marching on proud

Turn it up loud

Cause now we know what we're worth"

Alya beat on her drums and smiled wickedly as she sang and added her lower voice to the melody. 

Adrien joined Marinette in a duet, and he winked at her as she drew out the end of the verse and they jumped into the chorus.

Marinette danced over to Adrien and offered her mic. He grinned and sang back and forth with her.

"I've got a spark in me"

(I've got a spark in me)

"And you're a part of me"

(And you're a part of me)

"Now till eternity"

(Now till eternity)

"Been long and now we're finally free"

….

Little did Marinette know that as she danced away to jam out beside Alya's drums that a pair of light blue eyes was watching from the crowd, and they burned with jealousy.

….

Marinette finished the song, drawing out the note perfectly then grinning as she took a bow.

Adrien and Alya jumped up as the campers screamed even louder and applauded them.

Once she was off the stage and Clara had taken over again, Marinette paused as she saw a familiar figure standing beside the bonfire.

Luka was watching her with an odd expression: determination mixed with irritation and maybe… some admiration?

"Hey," Marinette greeted him. She smiled slightly, deciding maybe she had been a little petty. Seeing Luka so vibrant on the stage had softened her armor. "You and your band were spectacular. "

Luka blinked as if he wasn't sure how to react.  He lost a lot of the irritation to be replaced by shock. "Uh… thanks," he said nimbly.

She smiled, and he responded to it with his own. 

"You looked radiant up there." 

Marinette’s cheeks felt hot again. She smiled shyly and said, "Thanks, Luka."

He looked at her, really looked at her. Weeks of being rivals and giving one another a hard time all seemed like a childish waste of time. 

The way her eyes shimmered in the firelight did funny things to his heart.

Marinette walked up to him and leaned up, intending to kiss his cheek and consider them friendly rivals from that point on, but two friends who happened to be watching made their move.

Rose bumped into Luka and sent him right into Marinette while Adrien braced behind her long enough to avoid them hitting the ground.  He slunk away as the pair stared into one another's eyes for a long moment. 

Then they leaned in for a gentle but emotional kiss. They leaned back at the same time to touch foreheads, their smiles as radiant as the rearing fire behind them.

Clara was announcing the winner behind them, but it didn't matter. In Luka's and Marinette’s eyes, they both had won.

[anamikaa]

Beatrix Kuroki and Miriam Brooks: Bad Guys

This story is a second part of a round robin story. Its part 1 'Absent Friend' was posted by @kino-indiana . You can reblog with your own addition or you can check out @kino-indiana for more round robin stories.

⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫

Miriam woke up to a buzzing sound of an alarm clock. The bedside clock showed the time 7:00 am. She could probably get an extra hour of sleep, since her school had been suspended for two more days for the death of a fellow student, but she chose not to. After a shower and a breakfast, she decided to call that girl Beatrix.

Last night, when Beatrix came up and offered help, all she could feel was relief. But thinking back with a clear mind, it seemed a little reckless to trust a complete stranger with a matter as grave as murder. On the flip side, Beatrix could provide her with some vital information that could help her investigation. Hopefully, it’s something concrete enough to convince the others of Stillman’s murder. Shoving all her doubts in a metaphorical box Miriam finally hit the call button on her phone.

Beatrix Kuroki was on her fourth cup of coffee of that morning when her phone started ringing. Without looking at the contact name, she knew it was the girl from the last night, Miriam. Subconsciously, her fingers tightened around the half-empty coffee mug. The uneasy feeling in her gut multiplied tenfold with an intense urge to run and hide somewhere. And she would have done just that, if it could solve her problem. A boy was dead. It’s not something she could forget with a good night’s sleep.

Beatrix answered the phone on the third ring. Which irked Miriam a little. They decided to meet at Park Prakriti, around two miles away from her house, in fifteen minutes. Her mother was already out for work. So Miriam grabbed her cell phone and house keys, locked the doors and headed out.

She found Beatrix standing at the gate of the park, staring blankly at the clock tower of Kino Temple, that could be visible from any other part of the town. “Hey! Beatrix!” Miriam shouted when she was close enough. Beatrix turned and waived with a nervous smile. She was wearing a loose white t-shirt and a leopard print jeans, her jet black hair put in a messy bun.

The park was mostly deserted except for a group of six to eight-year-olds playing tag. Their shouts disrupting the silence of the place like stones thrown in stagnant water. The girls settled on a bench, far in a corner, that was designed to look like a half cut tree log.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” Beatrix started.

“Me too.” Miriam replied.

Beatrix glanced back at the children. Her mind was still debating if going back there would be a good idea. What if she’s only endangering another life.

To Miriam, Beatrix seemed even more anxious than the night before. But that’s kind of normal assuming your daily activity doesn’t involve investigating the murders of your classmates.

“So coming to the point, why do you think Cealan Stillman was murdered?” questioned Beatrix, as she turned to face her.

“You tell me, Beatrix. Why do you think Stillman was murdered? As far as I know, Stillman didn’t have any friends in school. Hell, I have scarcely seen him interact with anyone outside the detective career track. And the fact that you call him by his full name doesn’t help the case. So what reason do you have to believe that he was murdered?”

The look on Beatrix’s face faltered. It was enough for Miriam to realise that she had messed up. The art of subtlety was not one of her many talents. But still, she could have made an effort to make it sound less like an interrogation.

“Look, let’s not make it harder than it needs to be. You can be honest with me right now and I promise, I’ll do the same. And if you don’t want to be a part of it then that’s okay too. What do you say?” Miriam further added hoping her voice sounded amiable.

“No. I want to be involved. And you’re right. We need to be honest with each other.” After a brief thoughtful pause, Beatrix declared, “There’s something you need to see. Come with me.” With that she jumped to her feet, not waiting for any answer from the girl next to her.

After five minutes of walking in suspenseful silence, they were back at the place of their first interaction. Miriam followed Beatrix as she made her way around the towering headstones. Kino Cemetery was a work of art, forbidding and attractive in its own way, even more so in daylight when you can see the misty forest behind the burial ground. Beatrix suddenly stopped, causing Miriam to knock into her back. Her gaze glued to the grave of the boy who recently died.

“Don’t tell me we are here to dig up Stillman’s grave” Miriam spoke up, her tone suggesting she wouldn’t be much opposed to the idea.

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“Hey! You’re the one who’s acting all mysterious and brought me to see his grave. What am I supposed to think?”

“Well, I see your point but this is not what I wanted to show you.” Beatrix moved away from the grave. “For that we have to go into the woods.” She said, looking Miriam in the eye, as she tried to gauge her reaction. The townsfolk usually never ventured into the forest. Rumours surround it, lots of it, including being inhibited by some tribe that didn’t like being disturbed and being hunted by the spirits of witches, keeping it away from people. Even the rebellious teenagers left it alone. How convenient for them.

The expression on Miriam’s face was not one of wariness, as Beatrix had expected, but of a curious anticipation. Though, she never believed in those over imaginative theories, Miriam always knew there’s something off about the forest; like the untimely deaths of people working in the cemetery. All from natural causes. Nothing suspicious. But she knows how to connect the dots. And despite what Ryan Murphy says, her gut feeling is never wrong.

For Miriam, going into the forest felt like walking into another world. The fog was thick, so much that it was getting harder to see where the trees stood. But Beatrix seemed to know her way around. As they went deeper, the fog started thinning out too, and they could see more clearly. Ironically, it made Miriam feel more vulnerable like a blanket of protection was stripped away from her.

“Don’t make any noise and stay with me.” Whispered Beatrix, to which she could only nod. She refrained from commenting on the fact that Beatrix appeared more nervous than her. Miriam strained her eyes and ears in an attempt to stay alert. Still and all, nothing could be heard other than their light footsteps and the occasional chirp of birds or insects. The trees around them stood tall and uptight as if too proud of their primeval heritage to look down on two feeble animals. Suddenly, Miriam felt her feet fly out beneath her as she landed on the dirty, mouldy ground of the forest, staring up at the sky. She could feel something wet and squishy under from where her left hand was perched as she was trying to brace her fall. Reluctantly, she turned her head to find a dead raccoon-like animal halfway through decomposition with half of his organs outside his body. A loud screech, Miriam never knew she was capable of, escaped her lips. Beatrix was quick to cover her mouth reminding her to keep quiet. Miriam’s hands quivered with a chilling sensation. She didn't even have a minute to calm herself as they heard a series of footsteps echoing through the forest. Before she could make sense of what’s going on, Beatrix dragged her to a nearby bush that was entangled with vines making it a good hiding spot. Through the gapes, they could see men wearing black uniform pants and black t-shirts with face covered in ski masks, some with guns, some not, running around. 'They are searching for us.' Miriam thought to herself. She tried to calm her nerves, to come up with something that could help, but her brain drew a blank.

They sat there with bated breath, curled in a ball, trying not to make a sound. It felt like an eternity until they couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore. Miriam emerged first to make sure that no-one’s around. Dry leaves and branches were tangled in her curly brown locks. She walked a bit further from their spot to see if anyone’s hiding behind the trees. All of a sudden, a hand clasped her face and someone was dragging her back. Miriam tried to kick and elbow the person but soon she was backed into a tree with the guy pressed against her, blocking her escape. From his attire, it was clear that he’s one of them. Miriam could feel the butt of his gun against her stomach. She just hoped to God Beatrix would stay where she was. In another attempt to free herself, Miriam pulled his head with her free hand and banged it on the tree.

“Ow! Fuck!” He groaned in pain, momentarily losing his hold and giving her the perfect chance to escape. But something froze Miriam in her place. The voice behind the mask was one she knew too well. Impulsively, she peeled off the mask only to find a familiar brown eyed boy staring back at her.

“Look, I can explain. I’m not the bad guy here, I prom-Ow!! Jesus Christ!”

Before Patel could elaborate, he was hit with a heavy rock on his head above his left ear. Beatrix, who had succeeded in both sneaking up on them and injuring the man in question, was standing there with a perplexed expression, staring at a groaning Colin Patel, who was lying on the ground showcasing his very colourful vocabulary.

“I really thought he was the bad guy here.” Beatrix said when she caught Miriam’s eye.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @fewriterszine! I have so many things I want to write for post canon, ahhhh. My partner  cebrys_ @ twitter/instagram drew an amazing piece to go with it!

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Victories weren’t supposed to feel hollow. They were supposed to fill Corrin with pride, like when she landed a strike on Xander during training, or the rare times she beat Leo in chess. They were supposed to fill her with joy, like when she won one of Elise’s parlor games or snuck up on Camilla. There were many feelings that came with victory, but none of them were supposed to be negative.

 Yet, as Corrin stood in front of the Nohr throne, her sword hilt deep in the man she’d once called father, all she could feel was emptiness. His wrinkled hand gripped the blade, the metal cutting into his hand until blood slowly dripped down the edge. Garon looked at the blade, then at her.

 “You,” he breathed.

 Corrin didn’t say anything. She stared at him, though she knew he couldn’t see her back. His sight was gone now, his hearing too most likely. Blood dripped down his lips as he gurgled his last breath.

“We did it!” Hinoka yelled from the center of the throne room, her voice echoing through the vast hall.

So focused had she been on Garon, Corrin had almost forgotten that she wasn’t alone. Around her, various soldiers cheered, victory finally at hand. Despite her booming voice, Hinoka leaned against her lance tiredly, no doubt done with all the fighting.

 Armour clanked as Ryoma climbed the steps to the throne. Corrin watched as her brother slowly approached her, as his heavy hand rested on her shoulder. The touch burned. Xander used to squeeze her like that.

 “Good job,” Ryoma praised, his stern expression softening as he smiled. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

 Still, she said nothing. Behind her, her kidnapper dissolved into water, his life finally gone. Xander would have inherited the throne next. This hall would have been decorated with the fanciest flowers Elise could convince their older brother to buy. Camilla would have picked their outfits for the coronation and Leo would have rolled his eyes at the spectacle of it all.

 None of that could happen anymore. Corrin looked around, at where Sakura was healing the wounded, where Takumi was helping Azura stand, where the Hoshido soldiers were clapping each other on the back. Camilla and Leo were nowhere in sight.

 She didn’t know if she should be relieved or cry about that.

 -x-

 Corrin stared at the Nohr Royal Castle. In the night, she couldn’t see it all that well, the torches barely outlining its shape, but she’d observed it long enough to memorize the half-mast flags. The interior was no doubt covered in black. Xander’s and Elise’s bodies had to have been moved by now, their clothes prepared for a public viewing before the state funeral.

 “Couldn’t sleep?” Ryoma asked, sitting down next to her. The log next to the firepit was barely wide enough to fit them both, especially with his imposing frame.

 Corrin tore her eyes away from the castle and back down to the tent city around them. The Hoshidan army was still camped outside the castle gates, gathering provisions slowly before the long march home. She still hadn’t figured out if she would join them. She still didn’t know if she could stay here.

 “No, I…” Corrin trailed off before rubbing her arm. “Azura…I should have stopped her from singing.”

 Even now, she could feel Azura’s hand in hers, hear her weak voice. They had barely celebrated Garon’s death before Azura had collapsed, her body disappearing like dew in the morning. Corrin curled her hand and closed her eyes. “We should have found a way to win without her powers.”

 “Maybe. Azura is—was very stubborn about helping others. Even over herself.” Ryoma gave her a weak smile. His voice cracked slightly, but somehow stayed strong. He reached out, squeezing her shoulder. “She would have sung either way, if only to save us from getting hurt.”

 “This hurts more than a cut would,” Corrin mumbled, resting a hand on his as she soaked in his comfort.

  The fire flickered, shadows dancing across Ryoma’s face. Without his armour, he didn’t look as imposing as he normally did. He looked like a man, not a king, not a warrior. “It does.”

 Xander had looked like that too, when he had tea with her, and Corrin swallowed the lump in her throat. “I should have tried.” She was proud how her voice didn’t crack. “She should be here with us.”

 Instead, she had disappeared like the rain, not even leaving her pendant behind for Corrin to remember her by. All that was left was a memory to mourn and Corrin wasn’t sure if it was easier that way, if having no body was better than having one. As it was, her siblings were taking it hard. Hinoka looked small, frail, and Takumi radiated regret with every step. Corrin had watched as they’d comfort one another, their hugs barely keeping the tears at bay.

 It took all four of them to handle Azura’s death. Corrin looked up at the castle again. Just what hope did Camilla and Leo have with two?

 -x-

 Corrin stood in the grand hall, an anxious ball of nerves. This room had always been imposing, all dark corners and large swathes of shadows. The pillars are a cold grey, the décor menacing. It had been less than a week since the war ended and if she looked, she could see the blood stains on the ground, barely scrubbed away.

 When they’d snuck into the palace, they hadn’t gone through this room. For that, Corrin was glad, it was hard enough to breathe in here as it was. She could still see Iago and Garon at the top of the stairs, all cruel words and cold eyes as they told her to kill the prisoners. Corrin’s heart constricted, a helpless and trapped sensation flooding through her.

 After all that happened, it could be Camilla and Leo standing there next, accusing her of war crimes. Around her, she heard the guards’ whispers and felt their angry stares. She was the traitor princess, after all. After killing Xander and Elise, she shouldn’t be here at all.

 “It’s okay, milady.” A warm hand slipped into hers, jerking her out of her thoughts. Corrin looked to her right. Jakob offered her a reassuring smile as his fingers interlaced with hers. His grip was firm.

“Jakob.” Corrin tried to smile back. Her chest still felt tight.

 “They’ll meet you.” Jakob lowered his eyes slightly. “They adore you.”

 Corrin almost laughed. “After all I’ve done? I rejected their hands so many times, waged war against their country, killed Xander and Elise—”

 “You didn’t kill them,” Jakob interrupted in a rare burst of anger. His jaw clenched, the way it would whenever he’d reprimanded her for being too reckless. “Pride and stubbornness killed Xander. Ideals without the strength to uphold them killed Elise.”

 “Jakob!” Corrin hissed, yanking her hand out his. “They—”

 “I mean no disrespect with that,” Jakob replied, cutting her off once more. “Just the truth. It is a tragedy what happened, but it is no more your fault than theirs.”

 Corrin glared at him. “And if I hadn’t attacked Nohr?”

 “Then Garon would have conquered Hoshido and the world would have been worse off for it,” Jakob replied quietly, his anger dissipating. Now he only looked sad. “Xander and Elise would have been no safer in that world than they were in this one.”

 Corrin opened her mouth, ready to argue, but what could she say in response to that? He was right. It was a harsh truth, but he was right. Garon hadn’t seen them as more than pawns, and he would have disposed of Xander and Elise the second they weren’t needed. Camilla and Leo would have died too. At least they were alive here. She pursed her lips, her hand curling into a fist.

 “I…”

 Before she could apologize, doors on the second floor opened. A man walked to the rail and announced, “Her Majesty Camilla and His Highness Leo have arrived.”

 His voice echoed through the room. Corrin looked up to find Camilla and Leo at the top of the stairs, looking down at her. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Corrin wasn’t sure she remembered how to breathe. How long had it been since they’d seen each other? Only days, only weeks, and yet it felt like years. There was a before Xander’s and Elise’s deaths, and an after.

 The room was oddly silent. Not even the guards made a noise, no murmuring or the clank of their armour. Corrin swallowed, waiting for judgement to fall on her, when Camilla hurried down the stairs. “Corrin!”

 That was all the warning she got before her elder sister rammed into her, her arms wrapping around her tighter than rope. Camilla squeezed her tightly, resting her head on Corrin’s shoulders. Her long purple hair tickled Corrin’s neck.

 “Camilla,” Corrin managed, slowly hugging back. Her sister felt thinner, bonier. Resting her hand on Camilla’s back, she couldn’t feel the muscles she was used to, the strength that allowed her to pick up her favourite axe.

 “I’m so glad you’re back,” Camilla murmured softly, as though she’d crack at anything louder than a whisper. “I…I’m just…so glad.”

 “Me too.” Corrin’s eyes watered and she clutched her sister tightly. It had been too long since they’d last hugged, since they hadn’t faced each other across the battlefield. She wanted to drag Leo into the hug, to hold both them as close as possible, but he still stood at the top of the stairs.

 Corrin looked up at him, their eyes meeting. He wore an unreadable expression, his lips a straight line. His jaw tightened and he whirled around, leaving them.

 -x-

 “It’s getting late,” Camilla muttered, staring out the windows that lined her bedroom. The sun had just set, the last vestiges of light barely bright enough to outline the city sprawling around the castle. Servants had already lit the candles, small pools of lights in every corner of the room. Seated on the bed, Corrin could just make out the city.

 She hadn’t seen the capital like this. Before, she hadn’t been allowed to, and after, they’d been at war. Unlike Hoshido, Nohr was a darker place, one of moonlight and not sunlight. There was a desolate beauty to it that she knew her Hoshidian siblings couldn’t see.

 “Yeah,” Corrin agreed, her eyes moving to their faint reflection in the window. Camilla hadn’t left her side throughout the day, her hand often neatly tucked into Corrin’s arms to keep them glued together. Even now, Camilla was braiding her hair, allowing them no more than a foot’s space between them. She hadn’t had the heart to pull away, and to be honest she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

 She felt like the castle was holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she didn’t want to face the storm alone. Corrin stared at Camilla’s reflection. “I guess it’s time for bed.”

 “Bed…” Camilla trailed off, her hands freezing. She stared at the door, as though she expected someone to burst in.

 When she didn’t continue, Corrin leaned back, resting her head on her sister’s chest. From this close, her sister looked worn and she frowned as she looked up. “Is something wrong?”

 “No, I…” Camilla tore her eyes away from the door. Smiling down at Corrin, she gently pushed her back up into a seated position. “Darling, you’re messing up the braid. You can’t sleep until we’re done. How about…” Her voice cracked. “How about a sleepover? For your first night here.”

 “A sleepover?” Corrin could almost hear Elise’s voice there, hear the exact lit as she pleaded her case.

 “Y-yeah.” Head bowed, Camilla busied herself with unbraiding Corrin’s hair. “We must have one—your room hasn’t been prepared yet! Why, in the morning you could choose one yourself, there’s so many here.”

 “I…” Corrin didn’t know if she was going to stay. She didn’t know how to, after all the misery she’d caused. Yet, hearing the crack in Camilla’s voice, the way her hands trembled, she didn’t know how to leave either. “A sleepover sounds fun.”

 “The maids are making tea and…” Camilla tugged Corrin’s hair into a tight braid. “We were supposed to have a ball when you arrived, darling.”

 “A party?” Corrin turned around but Camilla firmly pushed her jaw back.

 “You’ll ruin the braid,” she fussed, weaving Corrin’s long locks into a single braid. “And yes, a party for you. Elise…” Her voice cracked again but she pushed forward. “planned all of it. The food, the music, the decorations. Xander rejected all of it.” Camilla laughed, a bittersweet sound. “It was too expensive, so Elise kept cutting down things and trying again. He couldn’t get her to stop all together.”

 Corrin felt a bump on her back. Turning her head slightly, she could see Camilla’s head resting against her back, her hands tight on Corrin’s shoulders.

 “Despite his words, he was just as excited as she was. He even got a room cleaned up for you.”

 Corrin could just picture it. She closed her eyes. “He always hid his kindness.”

 “He is—was adorable like that. Though not as adorable as Leo.” Camilla laughed wetly. “He helped Elise change her plans, even though he kept calling it a waste of time.”

 It was strange. The room was empty, save for the two of them, but Corrin could feel her siblings around her. Elise sitting on the bed, Camilla braiding her hair as she rattled off her latest frustrations. Xander and Leo arguing over budgets. Camilla and Xander would exchange a knowing look, the two eldest working together behind the scenes.

 Nowhere in that picture was her and Corrin felt a lump in her throat.

 -x-

 For the past two days, Corrin hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Leo. To be fully honest, she hadn’t seen his or anyone else’s retainers either, and she didn’t know if that was because they were avoiding her or if they’d been ordered away. Either way, she was glad—she didn’t know how she could look at Effie or Arthur after what’d happened.

 And she could never look at Laslow or Peri again.

 Yet today he stood in the hallway, staring out the windows to the private gardens. Her heart constricted at the sight of him, her body stock still as she figured out her next move. He hadn’t noticed her yet. From his profile, his gaze was locked firmly on something outside. Steeling herself, she marched to him.

 He still didn’t move, not even when she came to a stop right next to him. Corrin looked at him, then out the window. There was a dirt patch outside, one that showed signs of digging, but there were no obvious hints as to what had been dug up or buried there. The rest of the garden was filled with thorny roses and sharply-trimmed bushes.

 “What’s there?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

 “It’s…” Leo caught himself before he finished the sentence. Tearing his eyes from the dirt, he turned to her. “What’re you doing here?”

 Leo had never been a cold person. Despite his attitude, he’d always been warm, giving. Corrin couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine at his stare, at his eyes that looked like they could pierce through her. Even when they’d been at war, he hadn’t looked so icy.

 “I…” Corrin swallowed, forcing herself to smile. “I wanted to talk to you.”

 He didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

 Clasping her hands, she continued, “I…I know that it’s hard…that I did something unforgivable…but…”

 Camilla hadn’t wanted or allowed an apology, no matter how many times Corrin wanted to give one. Now that she had the chance to say it, she didn’t know where to start, what words to use. Xander had died by her hand, whether he wanted it or not. Elise had sacrificed herself. A kingdom had been invaded, and she had led the charge.

 “I’m sorry. For everything. I—”

 Leo’s jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

 Corrin looked at him owlishly. “What?”

 “Don’t,” he repeated before turning on his heel and leaving.

 Corrin didn’t chase. She didn’t have the right to.  

 -x-

 Castle Krakenburg had never been Corrin’s home. No, hers had been the Northern Fortress. She knew the ins and outs of her fort, the rooms her siblings lived, the places they liked to play. The castle was a blank canvas to her, the history of it invisible to her alone.

 It was easy, though, to guess which spaces belonged to Xander and Elise. There were rooms Camilla’s eyes would just slide past, areas where she’d step around as though she could see Xander’s ghost. Leo could be found in only certain sections of the library and the study and some items were left with a layer of dust on them as though even the maids weren’t ready to face them.

 Corrin had no such compunctions. She snuck around in the middle of the night, when Camilla wasn’t watching, when Leo didn’t have to be avoided. A candle in hand, she mapped out a castle that had once been as foreign as Hoshido.

 Xander’s room was sparsely furnished. She sat down gingerly on his hard bed, on the ever so practical grey blankets. The pillowcase was bright blue, flowers embroidered on the edges, and that had to be a gift from Elise or Camilla. Maybe both, Elise had never been patient enough for sewing. There was a stack of papers on his side table and Corrin hesitated before reading the top one. It was a report on the country’s food supply, and of course he’d read that before he slept. He’d ever been the work-a-holic.

 Even now, Corrin remembered his profile in the night, his sword glinting in the moonlight as he practiced his swings. Her brother had cared deeply for his country. Too deeply. Tears pricked her eyes and she left his room before she could cry.

 On another night, she explored Elise’s room, all pinks and yellows. There was only a musty scent now, but Corrin liked to imagine it smelled floral at one point. Despite how flowers were hard to get here, it was hard to picture Elise without them. Her closet was filled with dresses, the fanciest of which looked hardly touched. Instead it was the simpler ones that looked thoroughly worn, with small patches hidden here and there to keep clothing together.

 Elise had always been wiser than she’d acted, though Corrin hadn’t realized just how much. It was disquieting to realize she didn’t know her siblings as well as she’d thought. That she might never know, her sister taking her secrets to the grave.

 Night after night, Corrin explored the castle, sitting in Xander’s spot in the study, reading from Elise’s alcove in a tower. Despite how strong their presence was for Camilla and Leo, Corrin couldn’t feel them.  A chair was just a chair, a book a book, and all of these little pieces didn’t make up a person as much as she pushed them together.

 -x-

 The Hoshidians were gone, her family with them, and Corrin wasn’t sure if she shouldn’t have left as well. Just as much as Camilla needed her, Leo didn’t. Even their meals were separate, Camilla eating with her. If she’d gone, maybe they could have grieved together.

 “Maybe you should eat with Leo?” Corrin suggested finally, turning to her right. The Nohr dining table was overly long—even with all of her siblings, they could never have filled in all of the chairs.

 Camilla raised a brow. “What do you mean, darling? I always eat with him.”

 “Huh?” Corrin blinked, thrown off kilter.

 “I eat with you, and then with him.” Camilla reached over, squeezing her arm tenderly. “You are both precious to me and I would never leave either of you alone.”

 “Oh.” Corrin looked down at her plate, not sure what to say. She hadn’t thought of that possibility at all.

 “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll eat together soon.” Camilla smiled sadly. “He just needs some time.”

 “Does he? I think he hates me,” Corrin admitted, her shoulders sinking at the memory. Even now, she could feel his icy stare. All of their encounters lasted three seconds.

 Camilla wrapped an arm around her. “No, he doesn’t—”

 “It’d be stranger if he didn’t.” Corrin leaned against Camilla, soaking in her warmth. “Why don’t you? After I…” She couldn’t say the word killed, it stuck in her throat. “After all I did.”

 Camilla fell silent. For a moment, Corrin wondered if she’d finally succeeded in driving off her last sibling, if she’d have to pack her bags and head to Hoshido sooner than she’d thought.

 “We weren’t great either,” Camilla finally uttered, resting her cheek on Corrin’s head. “And more importantly, I’m tired of hating. It hurts too much. Elise…Elise wouldn’t have liked it. Leo, he’ll come around. He just needs time.”

 Nestled like this, Corrin could believe anything. She closed her eyes and listened to Camilla breathe. “I hope so.”

 “He will.” Camilla sighed. “Hopefully by the coronation. I need both of you there with me.”

 “The coronation…are you ready?” she asked.

 “Not at all.” Camilla laughed dryly. “Xander had always been the leader, the strong one. He always had a plan.” Her voice grew pained. “I…I don’t know how to do that. I’m not a leader. I never have been.”

 “I’m not one either.” Corrin pulled away, looking Camilla in the eye. She smiled encouragingly. “But I think we could do it together.”

 Camilla’s eyes grew wide before she hugged Corrin. “Yes, we can.”

 -x-

 The clock struck twelve, large metal gongs ringing through the night. Corrin stood next to a window, listening to the chimes. Yawning, she had to admit that it was late. She’d done enough exploration for the day.

 Heading back to her room, she paused as a small light to her right caught her eye. Someone was out in the garden. Quietly, she approached the window, peering out to make out who it was. They weren’t moving, the lamp in their hand, and she could just make out a familiar cape.

 Leo.

 Now that she was looking, she realized this was the same window as before, that he was standing in front of that dirt patch. Quickly, she opened the window and hopped outside. Just like the last time, he didn’t hear her, his gaze fixed firmly on the dirt. It was dark, so she couldn’t see much, but the plot looked as empty as it had before.

 Before she could voice her question, Leo murmured, “Elise wanted to grow sunflowers here.”

 Corrin snapped her attention at Leo, but he didn’t look at her. She held her breath, afraid of breaking the moment. He might run away again like a scared rabbit.

 “They never grew. No matter how many times she planted them. Elise never studied for anything, but she read every book on flowers and gardening she could find.”

 Corrin reached down, grabbing his hand tightly.

 He didn’t react. “The soil was dead the entire time.”

 It was scary, how monotone his voice was, but his hand was warm and she intertwined their fingers.

 Finally, he turned to her. “Sometimes I wonder if all of Nohr is as dead as this lot.”

 “It isn’t,” she replied firmly.

 “What do you know?” he snapped back, but he didn’t pull away from her touch. For once, his argument was feeble, his sharp words deserting him. “You were always trapped in that fortress.”

 “I saw a lot on my way here,” Corrin replied, her eyes locked on his. It was strange, the words just came as she thought of the underground city, of Elise guiding them there. “Nohr is alive, its people are alive, despite everything Garon did to them. They just need a little help, a little kindness, and they’ll flourish.”

 “Elise was kind.” A tear slid down his cheek. “Xander had a vision. Camilla and I…we have neither.”

 “You have each other.” She reached up, wiping his cheek. “You have me.”

 “I…” More tears fell, like a dam bursting open. “I could have saved them.”

 Corrin didn’t bother to ask who. “You didn’t do anything.”

 “That’s just it!” he shouted, grabbing her hand, sobbing silently. His voice broke. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t help them. I didn’t help you. I just walked away from it all and Elise…I could have saved her. Maybe not Xander, but at least her.”

 He fell to his knees, weak, his hand still wrapped tightly around her wrist.

 “Instead, I did nothing.”

 “You didn’t do anything wrong.” It was too much and Corrin collapsed to the ground now. Wrapping her arms around Leo, she hugged him tightly. “I killed them. My sword cut through them. Their blood’s on my hands, not yours.”

 “But you weren’t wrong,” Leo mumbled, hugging her back, his hands clenching her shirt like a lifeline. “Garon had to go and you weren’t wrong. And if I…if I’d joined you, maybe Xander would have stepped down. Maybe none of this had to happen.”

 “And if I’d asked or tried harder or—”

 It was too much, thinking about all of the what-ifs, the lost possibilities. She wailed, like she hadn’t since she was a child. Leo crumpled, sobbing, his hand still in hers.

 -x-

 Unlike Ryoma’s coronation, Camilla’s was not one of pomp and celebration. It was a solemn event. The halls were draped in black and gold, with the occasional red highlight. This was both a goodbye and a greeting, an ending and a beginning.

 Xander and Elise rested under marble tombs, joining their ancestors. Camilla stood on the balcony overlooking the crowds of watchful citizens, their words a dull murmur compared to Hoshido’s energetic cheers. The fur-trimmed purple cloak she wore swallowed her entirely, and the hand that held her scepter trembled. She looked small. Lost.

 Standing behind glass doors, Corrin watched as her sister slowly stepped toward the railing. Leo was already standing there, announcing Camilla’s presence. Corrin couldn’t hear them properly, the glass muffling the sound, and suddenly she was in the Northern Fortress, watching as her siblings left for the castle. Most of her childhood had been spent like that, watching, waiting, always apart and never with.

 “Corrin.”

 Corrin blinked, hearing her name, and looked out the window. Camilla and Leo were turned toward her, their hands outstretched. Confused, she poked her head out the door. “What?”

 “Didn’t you say we’d rule together?” Camilla smiled, beckoning her to come closer.

 “But—”

 “You’re our sister, you have to suffer through these functions with us,” Leo added impatiently, but he was smiling too.

 Corrin stared at their hands, at them. At the ghosts of Xander and Elise that stood behind them. That was right, her time in the fortress had never been lonely. Her family, her friends, they’d always opened the door, calling her out.

 It was the same now, even if now there were only two hands reaching for her instead of four. Corrin pushed open the door and stepped outside.

 Whatever the future held now, they’d handle it together.  

[rosesnvines]

Scary Stories

It was a lovely autumn night around a fire, the group, a blend of Vikings and Scots, were swapping scary stories. Gobber was particularly engaging in his story about the Boneknapper dragon. 

“So there I was, all alone, stranded on an island full of bones. I had heard of the Boneknapper, but had never seen one before. Was I to be next in its hunt for the perfect bone to finish its armor? But I couldn’t hide forever, I had to get off that island. So, with only a torch and my broom, I set out to find some means of escape. Little did I know I was being watched.” His audience gasped. 

Eret leaned towards Hiccup. “This is way better than the stories he told us about the Boneknapper.” 

Astrid snorted. “Guess reality is stranger than fiction.” 

“Sh,” said Hiccup. “Let him finish. If they like it, all the better.” He nodded at the Scots. One Scot in particular, the princess no less, seemed really intent on the story, listening with interest. She had been interested in hearing all about the dragons, asking a lot of questions. Her curiosity impressed, and interested, Hiccup. He hadn’t met someone so eager to learn, not since Fishlegs, nor someone so eager to get her own dragon. Her fiery red curls cascaded past her shoulders, looking wild and free, while her blue eyes reminded Hiccup of the big blue sky. He wished she would look his way, just once. He was feeling a little lonely with Eret and Astrid getting all cuddly next to him. But her attention was on Gobber. 

“So I searched all night long, hoping to find some way of escape, but all I could find were bones. Can’t put to sea in a boat of bones, trust me, I actually tried it.” 

“Of course you did,” mumbled Snotlout. 

“Sh!” said Hiccup and Valka at the same time. Snotlout put up his hands and grinned nervously. 

“So I had to come up with a different plan, I decided to try and use the Boneknapper itself to fly me off the island. But, how could I do that without becoming another bone on its armor?” The youngest members of the Scottish group, the triplet brothers of Merida, gasped and leaned in, excited to hear what came next. “So I went and found myself the largest pile of bones I could and waited. The Boneknapper finally came, all skeletal and silent.” He paused, wriggling his fingers. His audience gasped. “He didn’t notice me as he went digging through the bones, so I took my chance and found a spot to hang on to.” Gobber chuckled. “Guess I should have worried too too much, that Boneknapper had a couple of blind spots, and I had found one of them.” 

“But, how did you know it was its blind spot?” asked a Scotsman. Hiccup knows it was one of the three young lords who was seeking the princess’s hand, but he couldn’t remember which one. Their names all began with young, Young MacIntosh, Young McGuffin, and, oh yeah, it was actually Wee Dingwall. Ruffnut was flirting with Young MacIntosh, who was enjoying the attention. 

“Well, for one thing, I was able to ride it off the island without it noticing me. And for another, I saw the remains of a guy who apparently tried the same tactic, and failed.” The group gasped. 

“Well,” said Chief Fergus, rising from his seat. “No offence, but that wasn’t quite scary.” 

Gobber huffed. “Then care to share something that’s scarier than a Boneknapper?” 

“Oh, yes, my children will know this story by heart. The story of the demon bear, Mordu.” The triplets gasped and dashed behind Merida and their mother, but they peeked out from behind Merida’s and Elinor’s backs with huge grins. “The legend goes that Mordu wanted to rule over all of Scotland, and went to war with his brothers and the other clan chiefs. But Mordu became rather blood-thirsty. If anyone so much as dared to say anything against him, even as a joke, he would have them killed. His own men began to turn on him. He hid to bide his time. A witch gave him a potion as a way to put a stop to his blood-lust, and he turned into a bear. I mean, you would think that since a bear eats honey, fish, and berries that would work, right? But no, the plan backfired, and Mordu used his bear strength to kill many of his men. His brothers managed to banish him, to never be allowed back in the castle. Now Mordu roams the woods at night, seeking for another victim to kill in his maddening desire to rule all of Scotland.” 

“Th-these w-woods?” asked Fishlegs, a squeak coming out at the end of his sentence. 

“Aye,” said Fergus with a nod. He walked around the circle. “And there’s a way to call for him too, should you ever want to meet him. Just simply call out, ‘Mordu, Mordu, I’ve found a traitor for you’. And then Mordu will come up behind you and RAWR!” Fergus let out a loud roar right behind Fishlegs. Everyone jumped and screamed. Fergus burst out laughing, followed by the other clan chiefs. Merida was giggling. 

“Ok, Ok, that was pretty good,” said Hiccup, chuckling nervously. 

The triplets nearly fell over laughing while Merida pointed at them. “You should have seen your faces!” 

“Yeah, Ok, ha ha, yeah,” said Hiccup. 

“How do you guys come up with stories like this?” asked Valka. The Scots stopped laughing and became dead serious. 

“Oh lass, Mordu’s real.” Fergus propped his peg leg on one of the logs. “It’s how I got this beauty. I fought Mordu myself. I barely made it out with my life!” 

Merida bobbed her head. “It was pretty scary.” 

“It was, and I’d rather you not try something so foolish again,” said Elinor. 

“What? I was only protecting you and Merida, my dear.” 

“W-wait, M-Mordu’s r-real?” whimpered Fishlegs. 

“As real as your own dragons,” said Fergus. 

Hiccup stood up and chuckled nervously. “Well, since we do have our dragons, we should be perfectly safe. And it looks like that fire needs some more wood. I’m going to go get some.” 

“But, Hiccup! Mordu’s out there!” said Fishlegs. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Toothless with me.” Hiccup turned to his dragon. “Right bud?” Toothless nodded. 

Fergus chuckled. “I think getting lost should be your biggest worry rather than Mordu. We haven’t seen him in years.” He turned to his daughter. “Merida, why don’t you go with the lad?” 

“Oh no, there’s no need to . . .”

Merida bounced up, chuckling softly. “Oh, you wee lamb, you’ll definitely get lost. Come on.” She walked past the stuttering Hiccup. 

Hiccup sighed. “Oh fine.” Even though, deep down, he was glad it was her. The three walked deep into the forest. There was a thick silence, Hiccup thought it was so thick that it would suffocate him. They began picking up a few sticks before Hiccup decided to try and break the silence. “So, um, ah, Mordu is real, huh? You and your mother saw him?” 

“As clear as I see you and your dragon right now,” replied Merida. 

“You really think your dad scared him off?” 

“I certainly hope so, I mean, we haven’t seen him in years. Dad’s the Bear King now because of it.” 

“Right, all the bears on your flags and whatnot.” 

“And you’re the Dragon Master, hence why all the dragons on your flags and whatnot,” said Merida with a smirk. 

Hiccup chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right.” A moment of silence. “So, um, have you, have you decided on which of the clan heirs you’re going to marry?” 

“Well, I don’t think it’s going to be Young MacIntosh, you can thank your friend for that.” 

Hiccup ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, sorry about that.” 

“Don’t be, I really want you to thank her.” 

“Oh, oh!” said Hiccup, suddenly realizing what Merida was getting at. She didn’t quite like the Young MacIntosh. “So, what about Young McGuffin and Wee Dingwall?” 

“Hmm,” said Merida, wrinkling her nose, “if I really had to choose, I guess Young McGuffin. Wee Dingwall’s really not my type. He’s a nice lad, but I don’t love him.” 

“But you don’t exactly love Young McGuffin either.” 

“Mm, no, not really.” Merida huffed. “But I could I guess.” 

“What would happen if someone else came in?” 

Merida glanced at Hiccup, blinking in confusion. “Someone else?” 

“Yeah, you know, what if, um, someone else presented himself as a suitor?” 

“Well, it would depend on who that is, there’s really no one else around our age.” 

Him squeezed his eyes shut. “Me, Merida, I’m talking about me.” He opened his eyes, Merida had turned to look at him in shock. 

“Y-you’re presenting yourself as a suitor?” 

“Y-yeah, why not? I’m a chief’s son, well, I am the chief now, but I’m just as good as any of the others. W-well, I mean, I’m not as good-looking as Young MacIntosh, or as Scottish as Wee Dingwall, or, or as interesting as Young McGuffin . . .” 

“Yes!” 

Hiccup blinked. “Wait, what?” 

“I said yes, you silly Viking! Yes!” 

“W-wait, really?” 

“I’m not going to repeat myself, Hiccup.” 

Hiccup chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I was just so worried that you were going to say no that . . . um, what’s that?” Merida turned as Toothless edged closer towards them, a soft growling emanating from his throat. A little blue light had appeared, it looked like a face was in it. 

Merida gasped. “Why, that’s a will o’ wisp! Legends say they can lead you to your destiny!” 

“Oh, Ok, this really seems like a spooky night now. Tales of skeleton dragons and demon bears, and now ghostly lights? Is there anything else that’s scary you Scots are hiding from us?” Merida shot him a look before walking closer towards the will o’ wisp. As soon as she got close enough to touch it, it disappeared with a soft sigh before a whole line of them appeared. Hiccup grabbed Merida’s arm before she took another step. “You’re sure you want to follow them?” he asked. 

“Why not? There must be something we need to find,” said Merida with a shrug. 

“But we really should be heading back to the camp. Can’t we follow them another time?” The closest wisp seemed to urge them forward. The others behind it frantically echoed its movements. 

“No, we should follow, I think something’s wrong.” 

“Yeah, we’re following a bunch of ghost lights,” muttered Hiccup. 

Merida groaned and grabbed his hand. “Come on.” They followed the will o’ wisps for a few feet before they stopped. 

“Ok, now what?” asked Hiccup. They were standing in a small clearing between the trees. Merida stepped closer, noticing something on a branch. 

“Ach, what is this? I can barely . . .” She jumped as something ignited behind her and a warm glow filled the grove. She turned, Hiccup had ignited his sword. He grinned sheepishly at her. “Oh, uh, thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

She turned back to the thing on the branch and plucked it off. She scrutinized it in the light of Hiccup’s sword. She gasped. “This is bear fur.” 

Hiccup peered at the dark fur. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve played enough with my dad’s fur coat to know how bear fur feels and looks.” 

Hiccup blinked. “Ok, so we’ve found what used to be a resting spot for a bear.” 

“But why isn’t it here? Bears sleep at night too. Unless . . . unless it’s Mordu!” 

Hiccup flailed his left hand, the one not holding the flaming sword. “Hold on, hold on, you can’t just expect me to believe that you find some bear fur and think it’s this demon bear?” 

“But the will o’ wisps? They had to have brought us here, to warn us!” Merida grabbed Hiccup’s hand and began pulling him towards the camp. “Come one, we have to warn the others!” 

“But how can you be so sure that, that . . .” Hiccup gulped as a large form rose from the shadows, right in front of them. “That’s him, isn’t it?” The bear had broken arrows and weapon hilts sticking out of its fur and scars all over its body. One eye was white. It certainly looked like a demon bear. 

“Y-yup,” said Merida. The bear roared. The two screamed. “Run!” Merida pulled Hiccup through the woods, the two dashing back towards the camp. The bear was hot on their heels.

“Aah! Toothless!” Toothless let out a roar and rammed into Mordu. Merida and Hiccup kept on running. 

“What took you so long? And where’s the firewood?” asked Fergus when the two burst into the camp. 

“Mordu! We saw . . . Mordu!” Merida said between gasps of air. 

“What?” the group cried out. 

Fergus quickly picked up his sword. “Where is he?” 

“Toothless is fighting him!” said Hiccup. At that moment, Toothless crashed into the camp, snarling. He quickly righted himself. Mordu stepped into the fire’s glow, the light danced maniacally on his face as he roared, his one good eye turned red. Toothless roared in reply, staying between Mordu and the group. 

“Everybody, back to the castle!” shouted Fergus. Everyone ran pell mell out of the clearing, screaming, towards the castle. Fergus pushed Merida and Hiccup towards that way when they didn’t move. “You heard me, move!” 

“I’m not leaving Toothless!” shouted Hiccup. 

“He stands a better chance against that bear than the rest of us!”

“He stands a better chance if he’s not alone!” retorted Hiccup. He swung his fiery sword. “And no offence, Chief Fergus, but Mordu hasn’t dealt with a fiery sword yet.” 

“I’d rather you not try your luck, lad.”  

“It hasn’t failed me yet,” said Hiccup, walking towards Toothless. 

“Hiccup!” called out Merida. Mordu glanced at Merida and Fergus before glancing at Hiccup. 

Hiccup blinked. “Uh, what’s with that look?” Mordu growled before charging at Hiccup. 

“Hiccup!” screamed Merida. Hiccup yelled and swung his sword, the flames singeing the bear’s fur. The bear took a step back then charged again, this time Toothless jumped him. The two rolled around the clearing, snarling at each other all while clawing and biting at each other. Mordu swung at Toothless, sending him rolling on the ground. Mordu turned towards Hiccup and charged again. Fergus shouted a war cry before charging Mordu. Merida let loose a couple of arrows, but the bear didn’t seem to notice. Fergus’s sword broke upon impact. 

“Is there nothing that can take him down?” asked Hiccup. 

“Well your sword didn’t seem to have a problem,” said Merida, dashing to stand by Hiccup before letting loose a couple more arrows. 

“But he didn’t have a problem with it either!” said Hiccup as Fergus joined them while Toothless and Mordu locked in fierce battle again. 

“Why don’t you have your dragon shoot him with a fireball?” asked Fergus. 

“And risk burning down the whole forest?” 

“Oh, right,” mumbled Fergus, glancing around at the wildfire just waiting to happen. 

“Well we need to do something soon!” said Merida. A roar answered. 

Hiccup glanced up and whooped. “Mom! Cloudjumper!” Valka and her large dragon descended on the dueling animals. Cloudjumpeer picked up Mordu. Toothless untangled himself from the bear’s claws and fell to the ground. He quickly righted himself. “Actually, I think now is a good time. Toothless, fire!” Toothless opened his mouth and shot a fireball straight into Mordu’s chest. The bear seemed to shiver and went limp. There was a moment of anxious silence as they waited to see if the bear would move again. He didn’t. “Mom, drop him!” Toothless quickly moved out of the way as Cloudjumper let go of the bear. It hit the ground with a huge thump. Hiccup stepped cautiously towards the mound of fur. 

“Careful, lad,” warned Fergus. Merida raised her bow. Hiccup touched the bear, but a blue light left the form. 

“Why, that’s a will o’ wisp!” whispered Merida. The light revealed the face of a man. He nodded before it faded away. 

“I, I think that was Mordu when he was a man,” said Hiccup, turning to Fergus and Merida. 

“I think so too,” said Fergus. “But you do know what this means, right?” 

“What?” asked Hiccup slowly. 

“A party! You and your dragon defeated the demon bear!” shouted Fergus, picking up Hiccup and swinging him around. He put Hiccup down and began walking back to the castle. “This is going to be one awesome alliance!” 

“Good to know!” shouted Valka with a chuckle before following on Cloudjumper.

Hiccup shook his head. “Whoa, wow, glad we made such a good impression.” 

 “Well, there’s only been one other person who faced Mordu and survived, and that was my dad. You’re quite the hero.” 

Hiccup ran his fingers through his hair. “Uh, yeah, great, um . . .” 

Merida chuckled before kissing his cheek. “It will certainly give you quite the leg up on the other suitors.” 

Hiccup blushed. “Well, that’s good to know.” Toothless chortled. “Oh be quiet, you useless reptile.” 

Merida laughed as she wrapped her arm around Hiccup’s. “Come on. Can’t have the hero’s party without the hero. And you can announce your intention to be one of my suitors then too. Best time to do it.” 

“Oh good to know,” said Hiccup as they walked back to the castle, Toothless walking behind them, feeling quite proud of himself.