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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - Part 6

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 7] [ENDING] [ALT. ENDING] | Sandman-inspired playlist

The day was only becoming more bizarre as knocking on your front door resounded throughout the house. Simultaneously, Morpheus and you looked at each other as if trying to ask the other person if they, too, felt danger lurking. Then, you looked towards the front door you could slightly see from the living room as if staring intensely at the dark wood would make it possible for you to see through it.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," you spoke up quietly as if it wasn't already obvious by your anxious attitude. "Truthfully, I was hardly expecting you."

The knocking repeated but this time it sounded more impatient. Hesitantly, you stood up from the sofa and walked towards a window close to the entrance. Pushing your cheek against the cold glass, you could see a strangely familiar silhouette at your door: short, chubby, dark skin covered in dingy clothing. There was only one person who fit that description and who would want to see you.

Almost tripping over your own feet and the old carpet in the hall, you run to unlock the door and let the guest in as quickly as possible. It was rude to let any guest wait too long but this one particular visitor deserved all the respect you were capable of giving them.

The door swung open and you swore your heart grew in size upon seeing that round, slightly wrinkly face. The kindness you learned to recognize as motherly love was still beaming from those tired eyes. Looking at them, you noticed that the left eye was bruised. A few strands of coily brown hair slipped from the white bonnet. She looked much older than she really was but singlehandedly raising three children that weren't her own could do that to a woman.

"Yasmin, what are you doing here? Are you alright? Come inside, you're just in time for tea."

"I can not stay long, my dear," she answered. Despite her statement, she followed you into the house. "Your father, he's... forgive me for speaking ill about him but I'm afraid 'mad' doesn't describe his state anymore."

"Did something happen at the mansion? What of Alex, Yasmin? Is he alright?"

"Younker Alex is fine, dearie," she assured you as she was taking her gloves off. Yasmin had a habit of speaking in a slow, mild way despite neither you nor Alex not being toddlers anymore. "At least as long as he doesn't defy your father. He's a bright boy but still afraid like a child. A lot has changed since you left. Master Rodrick became all the more desperate to save his health and life. But his anger... my dear child, I have never seen a man so full of rage! I'm telling you, some demon took a hold of your father's soul. I and a few other workers decided something needs to be done. I came here to give you this."

Frantically, Yasmin began looking for something in her coat pockets. Finally, she pulled out a small, lightweight bag made of dark material. It could be leather, actually. The textile seemed to be worn out as if the pouch had been used many times or it was ancient. Only then, seeing the enigmatic dark bag, did Morpheus show any kind of interest in the guest and your relationship with her. He made his way to you and Yasmin in quick strides, only to snatch his belongings from her hand. Judging by her face, she was unpleasantly surprised by his rude action but you had other things in mind that lecturing an actual king on netiquette. Alright, the pouch did belong to him but it didn't mean he had to behave like an emaciated weasel.

"How on Earth did you get this?" you asked.

"It wasn't my sole effort, do not flatter me in such a way." Yasmin tried her best to focus on you while answering but it was obvious that Morpheus himself interested her. Up until now, she only heard about the god-like creature kept in the mansion's basement. "Master Rodrick was planning to sell this pouch at a secret auction. In a small group of housekeeps, we managed to swap it for a fake. It has gone unnoticed, so far."

"Yasmin!" You couldn't believe that the softspoken and sympathetic woman who raised you became a sort of a criminal mastermind. Yes, desperate times had fallen on anyone who was in any way related to Rodrick Burgess. "What if my father finds out?"

"Do not worry about me, dearie," she said with a dismissive wave. "I'm old and I have lived a wonderful life. I accept whatever fate the Lord has planned for me. It is up to you, youngsters, to make sure this blasphemous madness does not continue. I came to you because I thought that Master Rodrick was unlikely to look for it here. If I may be honest, dear child, he wishes not to see you ever again. Shortly after you left, he began to keep a loaded rifle next to his bed! He never spoke of a reason for such a drastic decision but we figured it out ourselves."

"What about my letters?" you coaxed her. Morpheus was still dwelling on the mention of a firearm but it seemed as though it wasn't important to you, at least at the moment. His hand clenched tightly around the sand pouch but he was hardly aware of that. "Yasmin, tell me, what happened to the letters I had sent to Alex? I never got any response."

Yasmin furrowed her eyebrows. She stared into the distance for a moment, her vision somehow both blank and intense. Then like a symptom of enlightenment, she raised her eyebrows and looked back at you. Her stare wasn't blank anymore - it was sad. "I saw once master Rodrick throwing correspondence into the fireplace. I'm sorry dearie, I'm afraid your brother knows nothing about it."

A dreadful emptiness wove a nest in your mind. There was only one thought of utmost terror echoing in your head: He knows nothing. All those years... Alex never once was told that you think about him. That you continue to care. Did he feel abandoned? Was his young heart broken in too many ways to ever be fixed? And what of his spirit? If you met him now, would you even recognize the man he was forced to become?

"I musn't linger, dearie." Yasmin placed her old hand on your shoulder bringing you back to the present moment. She used to do that whenever one of the kids was leaving the house. "I can not risk Rodrick finding out where you are. Farewell, my dear child. I will always love you like my own. And you," she turned to Morpheus who appeared surprised at his sudden involvement in the conversation, "keep an eye on her, will you? God looks after his angels and so should you."

Only when Yasmin disappeared behind the now-closed door did the weight of her words fully strike your heart. You hid your face in your hands as you felt gut-wrenching sadness beginning to shake your body. "Dear God, little Alex! He must think I have abandoned him. And father... I'm afraid to wonder what wickedness he had bestowed upon my brother."

Upon hearing you sob, Morpheus's hand instinctively raised like it did once before. This time he, too, stopped it from reaching its destination. It was like an itch, a primitive urge that shouldn't exist within a creature of his sort. Clenching and relaxing his jaw repeatedly, battling his indifference and truly regal ego, he forced his palm to gently lay against the fabric of your clothes, between your shoulder blades. His breath hitched in his throat as if Morpheus himself was surprised that he was, in fact, capable of genuine intimacy.

Unable to keep your misery in check, you leaned into Dream's chest and sobbed against his dark coat. His hand, once shyly resting between your shoulder blades, moved to encircle your shoulders, keeping you closer than one might have expected him to want. The outside world may have continued to spin despite your desperation but it felt like your reality had collapsed in on itself. There was something comforting in the strict seriousness he wore all the time as if it was a reminder that something aside from your anguish existed. Or, perhaps, it was an unbearably lonely experience - that you were the only one in the entire world feeling something so insufferable, that there was no one to cry with you. What a terrifying thought it was: heartache unseen, without a person to acknowledge its existence, only grew in severity, slowly eating away at the wretch.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath you leaned away from Morpheus. He looked at you in his usual stern way, making it even harder to speak your mind even in times of dire need. Strangely enough, his arm remained around you but you didn't pay it much attention at the moment.

"Morpheus, perhaps I am in no position to be asking this, you are an Endless being, a king, after all. But if you find some altruism inside you, could I ask for your help in aiding my brother? My heart breaks for the suffering he had to endure."

"Am I not indebted to you?"

You looked at him with a confused grimace. "No, my dear, you are not and you never have been. If your kindness is repayment, I do not want it."

"What would you have me do?" he asked right away. Truthfully, you were too shaken up to think reasonably. Your head was filled with horrifying scenarios of Alex's fate that you never knew of. And how it broke your heart to think how lonely his misery was, how abandoned he must have felt after all those years without hearing from you. Morpheus took a few steps towards you and leaned close to your face - perhaps a little too close for people who were not married. "Watch your words," he whispered in a shaky voice. You saw his Addam's apple move as he swallowed before continuing. "If you ask me to kill Rodrick, I will."

In all of its macabre, it was a confession of endearment. Hate, perhaps, was a love unspoken, unlived; love that, never having seen the light of day, rotted, not recognizing its decayed-out face anymore. Contempt is but a scream, a whine of all almost-lovers, who with time forgot why they were crying. Maybe only as hate this unconfessed love can prevail, maybe in any other form, it would be a pleading for death.

Your hand anxiously touched the side of his face and, to your surprise, he did not wince. Morpheus managed to surprise himself even: he leaned into the warmth of your palm. Perhaps the love rotting inside of him was making him tired and complacent. "I know," you whispered. "But you deserve better than to be an executioner's axe. You are better than that, Morpheus. I could never ask you to belittle yourself so much and for such a dishonourable deed."

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose @farintonorth @oo0lady-mad0oo@all-bi-myselfs-blog @piperstofu101 @magic-magnoliaa @kotonei-molyneux @wheresmyboo @supermegapauselouca @sloanexx @rockergirl57 @aizawa-emma @ruyi-years @commanderfreethatdust @sapphireonline @izzicle @mxxny-lupin @shadowluna25

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the-travelling-witch · 22 days

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𝐎𝐂: 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍

Name: Cheron von Blocksberg

Homeland: Hell

Dorm: Diasomnia

Class: 3-C

Age: 18(ish)

Height: 192 cm w/o horns

Club: Had trouble picking but ended in the Science Club

Best Subject: Ancient Curses & Practical Magic

Hobbies: Studying magic, reading, fashion

Pet peeves: His wings getting caught on door frames… just build more arched gateways, mortals

Favourite food: The souls of the damned… just kidding, it’s lasagna

Least favourite food: Anything too sweet and tacky

Talent: Getting under people’s skin (without the teachers noticing)

Cheron von Blocksberg, the Prince of Hell, cuts an imposing figure befitting his position. Even if his height doesn’t manage to impress, his leathery wings and the pair of thick horns crowning his head, paired with his sharp claws and fangs, are enough to have people backing away from him. The crimson ends of his dark hair, reminiscent of hell fire, and the blazing intensity of his ruby and golden eyes do not help in making him more approachable. One look at him makes it apparent why he was sorted into the dorm based on the Thorn Fairy’s spirit of nobility.

Coming to Night Raven College is more of an excuse to leave the bleak and lifeless planes of his home. Considering his status, his education growing up was already pretty all encompassing, so his life at NRC is more about entertaining himself by toying with the living souls around him and seeing what he can tempt them into. Cheron’s not exactly hostile but some of their reactions are just so funny, he can’t help himself at times. Before coming to NRC, he wasn’t quite sure how much the living would differ from the damned but it turns out you can talk circles around them all the same; all the better for a silver tongued demon like him.

Unlike others, he doesn’t go around flaunting his power, though he will put people in their place if necessary. Besides, it’s not like he has to go around making people more aware of how threatening he can be; his title, high grades and the gossip going around campus do that for him. Despite his charming and easy-going smile, most people like to keep him at arm’s length, just like his housewarden. However, unlike Malleus, Cheron is actually present around campus and his mood can be rather unpredictable behind that amused expression of his, which makes people as wary of him as of Floyd.

Still, it’s not like he’s completely heartless, putting in some effort, especially for those who’ve earned his respect, and joking around most of the time. No, no, he is taking this seriously, trust him. After all, he is here to meet new people and build connections, and humans fascinate him. In his free time, he’s quite fond of researching old magic and even experimenting with altering and creating new ones. Some students have also reported seeing him pour over fashion magazines or with his nose stuck in a book.

“Hm? Oh you’re the Ramshackle Prefect, aren’t you? I’m Cheron, nice to meet you! Say, you must have some interesting stories to tell, I wouldn’t mind lending you my ear over a coffee some time. Just call me when you’re feeling chatty~”

Relationship with other students:

Riddle - If there’s someone Riddle has to resist collaring as often as Floyd or Ace, it might be Cheron. Sure, in front of the teachers, the prince is a model student; always properly dressed, never late and on top of his coursework. But Riddle knows better. Calling Cheron an angel is like trying to convince him the sky is red. Yet, the Diasomnia student isn’t technically breaking any rules, always operating through some kind of loophole, which frustrates the Heartslabyul housewarden even more. Still, he’ll give credit where credit is due and silently commends his meticulousness and will to study.

Leona - If Leona had horns he could lock, it would probably happen more often than anyone would like. In a way, Cheron ticks him off more than the other lizard by the sole fact he has to see his face more often around campus. While Malleus is annoyingly oblivious at times and many of Leona’s taunts fall on deaf ears, Cheron returns them with interest each time. The lion prince isn’t sure if he prefers that, so he settles for not meeting the Diasomnia student more often than necessary.

Azul - At first Azul thought he might have struck big. Another Diasomnia prince from a distant land? One far off from living society? Perhaps if he was as clueless as Malleus or naïve as Kalim… In his conversation to test the waters, however, the octomer soon learnt he’d get burnt if he tried anything funny and has made a berth around Cheron since. Whenever he sees the demon with one of the tweels, he can feel a headache incoming.

Kalim - Cheron has seen more than enough souls who had to pay the ultimate price for their greed in the end, so when he heard the heir of the Al-Asim family would be joining NRC, he couldn’t help but be sceptical. Yet, he would admit, Kalim surprised him. Despite all of his wealth, greed was one of the least fitting words to describe him and Cheron could respect that. If you could fault Kalim for anything it was his naïveté but that was hardly a sin. So Cheron found himself being much more genuine with the second year than with others, no matter how distrustful Jamil was of him.

Vil - Vil tried not to get ahead of himself when he met Cheron the first time. Sure, he carried himself with grace and elegance befitting his position but he knew from experience with Leona and Malleus, that didn’t have to mean anything. Yet, the blond was positively surprised when Cheron maintained his pristine appearance and showed off his manners. And against all odds, the demon hit it off with Vil surprisingly well after commenting on the magazine the model was studying. Then again, Vil is one of the few people who have earned Cheron’s respect, so maybe it’s not so surprising after all.

Idia - Listen, Cheron gets it. Being from a gloomy environment and expected to take over the family business himself, he can sympathise with Idia, almost to the point of leaving the fellow fiery-haired guy alone. Almost. However, the Ignihyde housewarden is just so much fun to tease. The first time they met, Cheron had to stop himself from grinning too hard as Idia nearly fell over backwards, stammering out an excuse to get away. As one of the first interactions with the living, it had a pretty forming impression on him. Still, he makes sure to cut the poor guy some slack… every now and then.

Malleus - As the heir apparent of Briar Valley and his housewarden, Cheron obviously treats Malleus with respect, though his tone is laced with playful teasing most of the time, which usually results in Sebek popping a vein. Malleus does not pick up on it. People sometimes wonder if Cheron is jealous of the other prince for snatching the housewarden position but those are just rumours. Sure, he doesn’t shy away from metaphorically locking horns with the dragon but being a housewarden sounds like a hassle and Cheron’s not about that. His gargoyle-esque appearance does net him some points with Malleus though, who was terribly disappointed to learn he was, in fact, not a sentient gargoyle.

Jade - Octavinelle’s vice housewarden has always taken to studying the behaviours of those around him, either to learn more about them or to learn from them. In the case of Cheron, it’s both. On one hand, Jade finds great amusement in watching him interact with students around campus, an air of sly aloofness surrounding him. One the other hand, there are so many rumours surrounding him without enough proof to match them, which fascinates Jade the same way a good puzzle would.

Floyd - Putting Cheron and Floyd together can either lead to a catastrophe or… well, a catastrophe. Their moods either clash and they are ready to go at each other’s throats -Cheron hiding it significantly better than Floyd- which spells trouble for those in their vicinity. Or, they get along splendidly, egging each other on and terrorising the poor souls around them. Either way, avoiding them together might be the smartest option.

Trey & Rook - As his clubmates, they regularly interact with Cheron outside of normal classes. And while Trey sometimes still sweats bullets seeing both Rook and Cheron around certain chemicals, he learnt pretty soon after the prince joined the club that he was very well read and much more responsible than the whispers about him would suggest. Rook just holds a general fascination for the demon and enjoys bouncing ideas off each other.

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #┊twst! oc: cheron ೃ༄#after having him in my drafts for so long #i'll just throw him out there #and yes #he's twisted from chernabog

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 11 months

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yknow, if there's one piece of advice I can give to people who don't have special needs in school, it's that DO NOT under any circumstance, idek (???) apply to be a scribe/writer for a special accommodations kid just to solely get out of class.

I had this happen to me in year 11 or 12, when the public school I was at, as well as the nsw education board, were adamant that the ONLY way I was to ever sit my hsc (end of high school) exams and pass, was to have a scribe. and a scribe only since no one would take the time & effort to EVER read my OWN hand written responses if I chose to do them by handwriting only.... and also that the education board kept outright refusing my access to a laptop bc "exams are meant to be handwritten only!!!! this student obvs wants an easy way to do her exams and wants to cheat!!!!" and "obvs this student, her teachers, her GP and the occupational therapists we made her see..... are all lying that she kid NEEDS a laptop accommodation for her exams to let her have a chance of succeeding.... so instead, we'll give her depression and anxiety so bad that she won't bother studying, lol."

so the first couple of scribes i had were good, bc they were in the year below me, and so, didn't know me. they told me to take my time and breathe etc etc. all around being supportive. however, one girl who had volunteered to be my scribe was originally in my year, but forced to repeat bc she'd missed too much class or whatever. moreover, she never liked me bc of the ~stuck up catholic school bitch~ thing that some people still held against me even after I'd been there for a while and was nice to everyone.

but what did this girl's dislike of me lead her to say??? she demanded of me, for my ancient history or w/e the fuck exam she had to write for me, that: "can you just hurry the fuck up and get this done so I can GET TO LUNCH ON TIME???? bc I only signed up for this to get out of class and get extra lunch time if you're quick. its not my fault you're *the R word*."

like Sally. you full well know HSC exams are long. ancient history was 2 or 3 hrs, I can't remember now. of course you're going to miss lunch. why the fuck did you even bother signing up for this, if you actually D O N T want to help people, let alone help someone you don't like???? wow. what a kind soul you are, you dumb ass. I don't give a fuck if you want to miss class. you signed up to help, so get writing. you selfish ass bitch.

anyway, I took my precious, painstaking time in this exam mostly out of spite for this bitch, bc i didn't think she deserved to have lunch on time when she'd signed up to help people for the full exam time. and also for calling me the *R word*. like I get that. it was 2012/2013, and I'd had people call me it plenty at catholic school too, for being related to the special ed dept. but there was NO REASON to call me that right before my exam that you signed up to help me with.

as an aside, I was practically a low needs special needs student. all I wanted was a fucking laptop for my exams. but instead, I had to settle for this fucking cow, who actually didn't give a fuck if she made me fail or not.

anyway. my point is, if you sign up to help any type of special needs student at school or at uni, have some fucking empathy and patience for the other person. having a scribe should NEVER be an option in exams, in my opinion, because it's impossible to relate coherent thoughts under exams stress. or at least it is for me. and esp as someone who used to do writing as a hobby in high school, this was like purposely cutting off my arms, which I could ACTUALLY use and also the direct brain connection to: brain to arm, to hand and pen, to paper. I fucking L O A T H E D it so much, and esp in the case of this girl.

like yes I did end up getting a laptop, which ended up being pretty pointless anyway (diagrams in entertainment industry and biology and doing double the work for multiple choice).... but still. I have this experience buried in my brain whenever I think about how shit special accommodation organisation can be for exams for special ed kids. don't sign up if you don't actually WANT to help, and instead want to do it solely to get out of your classes and expect early and extra break times.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona's public school memories #soz for all the personal posts today

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qah-naarin · 2 years

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Vibe check Miraak for the character bingo

okay so miraak. i have things to say about him and its a bit A Lot. first of all miraak's fit is cool. like i like it, evokes ancient enemy warped to something Not Quite Human, and i think that's sick as shit. i will say that you can't see canon!miraak's face so therefore he looks cool, because out of sight out of mind.

controversial: everyone but me is wrong about them. okay its NOT everyone but it's majority. i refuse to think that miraak would acclimate to the world so well much less know how to tap that ass. no. that is IMPOSSIBLE and i will not hear arguments for it. i dont care if the kama sutras in apocrypha, it is IMPOSSIBLE. i also want to state that a lot of people write miraak (in miraak!lives fics) as dark and eternally broody and their only light of sunshine or whatever is the dragonborn... NO. stop that. he's enamored with the beauty of the world. overwhelmed with how real nirn is. you have to show that. if you're not going to write him as appreciative and in love with the beauty the world offers to him despite how he had turned his back on it a long time ago, you are wrong. im so sorry bestie but ur wrong.

i feel like canon!miraak had way too much wasted potential. like im not saying he HAD to live by the end of it, but the entire dlc could've been a great elaboration on what it means to be the dragonborn in the face of greater beings like the daedric gods. a lot of people also forget to realize that miraak's entire character speaks volumes about what it means to be trapped and want freedom, and at the same time, be malicious in his actions if not intentions. i'm glad bethesda at least Tried to make him sympathetic (and he is! he's my favorite villain because he's so complex in my HEAD lol) but i feel like they could've tried harder. miraak is established to be dramatic and a show-off, i think he deserved a little more depth than the "me evil i will kill you to be free" and maybe that IS all that's left of him inside, because it's been eaten away by apocrypha, but then why isn't that more obvious? he's clearly in control of his own thoughts and not a crazy, rambling guy like the ones who found the black books—so even if he is hollow save for the unquenchable thirst for ldb's soul, it is Highly Unlikely.

anyway if he was real i would be scared of him. i'm like 5 flat. i hc him to be 6'7" thats literally gigantic to me. at the same time though i would marry him bc i think he would be a great househusband. he's practically a blorbo to me bc like... most of his personality and backstory i wrote LMAO. its Mine and i am just pouring so much love and effort into this silly giant man... you know how it is. he is deeper that he seems (see paragraph above) and i also like to throw my issues on him. hello attachment issues? i am throwing them at his face like a baseball.

AND on the same note as everyone is wrong about him but me, i just think miraak isnt blond idc. he's not blond, i don't to hear it.

didn't get enough screen time sums him up. i wish we saw him more to further expound on his character, because he is Not someone whose absence speaks volumes, because his absence isn't of his own volition.

yes i am mentally ill abt him. can u tell? i bet you would have never guessed

anyway he's exactly like me LMAO. prickly, rbf, a little broody, but deeply in love with the world and what it has to offer him. and he has layers, like an onion, and like me <3

#teddy talks #rambles #miraak #tes #ask game #pls send me more LMAO

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denimbex1986 · 9 months

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'I just saw Oppenheimer with a Los Alamos lab crowd, and I’m immensely glad this film is out and witnessed by so many. It was a part of our national history that I think almost everyone in my generation knew of, but that many young people today don’t know much about… and as citizens we need to know this story. It becomes clear to me when I talk to young scientists how forgotten it is: sometimes in conversation with people with Ivy League educations, PhDs, when they learn I’m from Los Alamos, I in turn discover they have never heard of Los Alamos before, and don’t have a clue what it is/was. The movie is a powerful telling of this crucial part of who we are, who we have become. We need this understanding.

Obama articulated a vision to work towards a world without nuclear weapons, but since Trump it is not even a topic of discussion politically anymore. When the INF treaty ended and we withdrew from the Iran nuclear deal under Trump, there was a spurt of news at the time that ended in barely a political ripple. Nuclear disarmament is not an issue that ever makes it to lists of what voters are concerned about, this as we are continuing to expand and update our arsenal. The New START treaty was continued, but offers the earth, us, too little. We do not seem to have the will to ask for more.

Oppenheimer’s story is filled with pathos, a life burdened by deepest sorrow imaginable tangled with brilliance. The question of how to live a moral life when confronted with options he faced is soul breaking. This is also true for Hans Bethe, who continued in the H bomb projects because he felt it would give him a voice in treaty and arms negotiations. It did. For example I think he helped negotiate the INF, but at what price? And despite his efforts to curb it, the nuclear arms race ran right past him.

Oppenheimer’s pre-war physics laid the foundation for understanding the death of stars and black holes, as was brought out in the film, but to me Bethe’s work was even more astonishing, foundational work for the realization that _all_ larger atoms, the very stuff of us, was born in the nuclear reactions of stars. “We are star dust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon, and we’ve got to find our way back to the garden…” Bethe got the Nobel for that work. I’ve stumbled through those old papers with awe, understanding what I could manage, for the joy of it.

My dad had met Oppenheimer, they had one conversation and my Dad witnessed his sorrow. I’m not sure of the year but it was after Oppy was blacklisted. But earlier, their paths had crossed in a very different way. After 3 years of fighting in the living hell of the Philippines in the Pacific Theater, on Aug. 6th, 1945, my dad was headed on a ship to take part in the land invasion of Japan. He was sure his death awaited him. Instead, Hiroshima. Then Nagasaki. Then Dad came home.

I had one brief and very sweet encounter with Hans Bethe 30 years ago; we met hiking the Camp May trail, he was very old, on his own, leaning heavily on his walking stick, some miles in. An ancient sage. He was delighted by baby Max, my son, who was riding in my back pack: old-man-and-baby flirtations ensued, Hans with twinkling eyes. The bit of irony there was we were walking with my friend Kazu, a Japanese physicist, who knew him; my friend had gone to school in Hiroshima, and had a deeply personal understanding of the costs. Still, he knew and honored the man Hans Bethe.

But also, I’ve walked the halls where Bethe and Oppy walked, their paths through the woods. Bethe had led T-division, the division which was my scientific home of 30 years. In 2021 I received the Los Alamos Medal, our highest scientific award at LANL, and to me the medal is charged with the knowledge it was first created to honor Bethe in 2001. For me it is electric with sorrow, but also with a fierce pride in that connection.

I’ve sat with a picture of Hans Bethe in my study for 20 years now, alongside the pictures of my family… It was a beautiful gift from a LANL photographer who had taken the portrait, when I saw it laying on his desk one day long ago he gave it to me. This is because from all I’ve read, I deeply admired him. Hans, like Oppy, lived a life where the question of how to live a good and just life was complicated by choices where treacherous monsters lurked on whatever path they took. Hans was a German Jew who had fled the Nazis; he carried the weight of experience into the Manhattan Project.

Hans wrote this plea in 1995, when he was 88:

“I am one of the few remaining such senior persons alive. Looking back at the half century since that time, I feel the most intense relief that these weapons have not been used since World War II, mixed with the horror that tens of thousands of such weapons have been built since that time one hundred times more than any of us at Los Alamos could ever have imagined.

“Today we are rightly in an era of disarmament and dismantlement of nuclear weapons. But in some countries nuclear weapons development still continues. Whether and when the various Nations of the world can agree to stop this is uncertain. But individual scientists can still influence this process by withholding their skills. Accordingly, I call on all scientists in all countries to cease and desist from work creating, developing, improving, and manufacturing further nuclear weapons; and, for that matter, other weapons of potential mass destruction such as chemical and biological weapons.”

Some little things I would have changed in the movie if I could have:

It was my understanding that the scene with the apple is not established fact, I was glad to read just now that Oppenheimer’s grandson objected to its inclusion for that reason.

I wish they had not used Georgia O’Keefe’s Pedernal as a stand-in backdrop for Los Alamos. Apparently, God gave Pedernal to Georgia once she had painted it enough … or so she said. Pedernal also belongs to the memory of the people who lived along the Rio Chama under its shadow for the 10,000 years before Georgia set foot there. Los Alamos is just as beautiful in its own way, and the place itself has a has a part in this story, and the landscape owns a part of this story. The finger mesas reaching out from the Jemez Mountains into the Rio Grande Valley. It was Los Alamos that Oppy loved and chose.

The movie got us so close to the story of the Downwinders, the people exposed to the radiation from the Trinity test — you could almost hear them stirring beyond the horizon the morning of the test. The movie captures the extreme political pressure to test quickly, and the storm and the winds the day of the test; they had a break in weather, and the denotation went forward. But they didn’t give us even a sentence to remember the downwinders by, or articulate the concerns the movie had begun to reveal.

Oppy’s daughter and brother Frank were also both blacklisted. I don’t think the movie could have easily captured that, but there was such a high cost to his family, it bears reflection. The communist charges against Oppenheimer were used against his daughter 15 years later by the FBI, and she lost her translator’s job at the UN. She ultimately committed suicide.'

#Hans Bethe #Oppenheimer #Los Alamos #Frank Oppenheimer #Trinity test #The Manhattan Project #Hiroshima #Nagasaki

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eyndr-stories · 10 months

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Across The World C7 - The Fifth Place

Summary:

The gods of this world are ancient, most of them forgotten, or nearly so. Nomen has been taught not to make deals with any old gods, should they be unlucky enough to come across one. However, when their little brother Maribus stumbles into mortal peril, they find they have no real choice but to accept the trials of one such god in order to save him.

This is an original story written by yours truly! I started writing this back at the very start of 2021 when I had a particularly wild and extremely vivid dream. This story is heavily based on said dream! This dream is also why I strongly distrust bunny mascots / anthro rabbits lmao but anyhoo, I think i've improved as a writer since this so the quality may or may not be quite on par with my other stories. I also had some help from my cool aunt Kerry with editing this, so if there's anything amiss here we can totally blame her lmao

That all being said, I do still like this story, and I hope you will too!! Enjoy <3

Things To Know:

major character death (its okay though, they live lol)

blood and violence

happy ending

protag (Noman) is nonbinary and referred to with they / them pronouns

first person POV

8 chapters in total, about 13,000 words in total. So roughly 1600 words a chapter. Lil bite sized chappys!

No swear words used, somehow

(lmk if i should add anything, i can't think of anything else)

Ao3 link here

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

C7 - The Fifth Place

The fifth and final place was very familiar. It was the end of the world. It was my home, but things were very different. The warmth was gone, as was Amicus. My friend was nowhere to be seen, and I was alone with the cold.

It was twilight. There was no moon or sun in the sky, no stars. Just a deep dark grey hanging overhead. It reminded me of the sky hanging over the temples and the rot in the rabbit's domain. The buildings here had been stripped of their flags and paints, and there wasn’t a single soul to be seen.

The chill was beginning to set in. I started walking.

This empty representation of my home had nothing for me. I climbed through the hole in the wall and made my way to the stairs leading down to the ice.

The world was silent as I descended the stairs. Even my footsteps were muffled. I missed Amicus, wondered where he'd gone and if he was okay.

The wind picked up as I approached the end of the pier. The ice looked frigid and foreboding. The dark fog was thick, heavily blurring the line between ground and sky. It looked like I was staring into the void. A very cold void.

I hugged myself against the chill, being mindful of the wound on my arm. I was so close to saving my brother. I just had to find… the right place, whatever that was. Then I could light the fire with the starter in my pocket. I could do this. I’d come too far to not.

I stepped down onto the ice and began walking, tucking my arms under my poncho as the wind whipped around me, numbing my face and sending chills down my spine. I didn’t slow. I wasn’t sure how long I had before I froze out here.

Minutes dragged by like hours. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Where was the right place?? I couldn’t see the pier or the cliff behind me anymore, all there was in all directions was ice and dark fog and a dead sky. I couldn’t get this wrong, I had to find the right place to light the last golden piece. I felt like I was running out of time.

I kept walking. I was freezing. My fingers were starting to turn the same color as the ice, despite my efforts to keep them warm. There was still nothing as far as the eye could see. How much time did I have left? Which place was right?? Everything looked the same, endless uncaring ice all around as far as I could see and beyond. In another few minutes, I'd be ice too.

I felt desperate, and a little hopeless. If I didn’t find the right place and light this fire… my brother would be gone forever. Just gone. I’d be gone too. What would our mother do, both of us just gone overnight? What would the world do, without my brother to explore it and appreciate all it had to offer?

This wasn’t fair. Death wasn’t fair. How could my brother just be gone?? Before he’d even gotten to do the things he longed to do? It wasn’t fair.

Something the warrior had said came to mind. I’d told her that the situation wasn’t fair, and she had told me… it wasn’t about fairness. It was about who I was.

So… who was I? Deep down, I was… well, I liked to think I was brave. Determined. Capable. I’d taken up the trial without second thought, done my damnedest to beat it, even faced the rabbit and came out alive. It wasn’t over just yet, was it? I was still here, still walking over the ice. I still had a chance.

With that reminder of my own capability in mind, I trudged forwards through the cold with new determination. I refused to go out like this. I refused to let my brother go out like this.

A shape came into view in the distance. Hope ignited inside of me. I hurried towards it, my feet starting to go numb.

As I got closer, I could see it was a boy. A small, hunched over, entirely frozen boy. It was my brother.

I wasted no time. I pulled my collection of kindling out of my pocket with shaking hands. The wind was still whipping by, making it difficult to hold on to my twigs and leaves. I forced my numb hands to cooperate and constructed a small fire, positioned right under my brother’s hunched over form. Then I took out the sparking stones and set them at the ready. At last, I reached into my other pocket and took out the golden piece.

It took just one strike for the golden piece to ignite in glorious warm fire, the color of it so stark against the dull white icy world around us. The rest of the twigs and leaves caught fire as well, and not a second later my brother caught fire, and the color returned to him, and to the world, all in one great warm wave.

#just one chapter left!!#Noman's been through quite the journey but its not quite over yet #original story #eyndr tells a story #across the world #fictional death #fictional violence

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thesoulspulse · 1 year

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I posted 427 times in 2022

That's 82 more posts than 2021!

393 posts created (92%)

34 posts reblogged (8%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dp-marvel94

@ecto-stone

@kennymayovo

@floralflowerpower

@krossan

I tagged 427 of my posts in 2022

#danny phantom - 413 posts

#thesoulspulse - 390 posts

#the soul's pulse - 389 posts

#the souls pulse - 389 posts

#thesoul'spulse - 388 posts

#danny phantom oc - 142 posts

#danny phantom fanfiction - 117 posts

#oc - 114 posts

#danny phantom fanart - 107 posts

#original character - 107 posts

Longest Tag: 80 characters

#but no seriously i love getting fanart from people of my precious cinnamon buns!

My Top Posts in 2022:

Regarding The Ancients (Part 2)

I think this screenshot says it all. In the last post I talked about the Ancients in general and there are a lot of great candidates for who they were in the Danny Phantom cast. After all, villains could count among them too because all Skulker said was that “...a group of powerful ancient ghosts banded together in a last ditch effort to defeat the King” which when you think about it doesn’t necessarily mean they were all ‘good’ ghosts. They probably had no choice but to become allies to take down someone who threatened the balance of both worlds...

Part 1: https://thesoulspulse.tumblr.com/post/698786699553177600/regarding-the-ancients-part-1

Still, I like to think of most of them as the good guys so we’ll start with them.

Clockwork is obviously the most logical choice because not only is he already wearing a purple cloak that’s extremely similar to the Ancients in the flashback, but he also has statues of the Grim Reaper, aka Death, all over his tower along with lots of scythes. But it makes sense given how he’s probably old enough to have known Death personally. Bonus points if they were brothers since time and death go hand in hand.

See the full post

120 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

Got another stained glass window redo! I really like how much better it looks!

P.S. Technically this is for the sequel story but I haven't decided whether to combine it with the current one or not.

Haunted Soul: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14016455/1/Haunted-Soul

123 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

Danny Phantom Randomness (The Way of the Ninja)

“Infinite Realms” is a really interesting episode despite being from Season 3 since it gave us a lot of cool concepts like Blood Blossoms, Frostbite & the Far Frozen, and the Infimap. And in the most recent chapter of my fanfic “Nevermore” I wanted to come up with a way to get Danny and the gang to Salem and figured why not use the Infimap since Vlad wasn’t there to steal it in this timeline? Still, this one scene where Danny was a Ninja always stood out to me for some reason and now I think I know why...

On the surface it looks like he staged this dramatic entrance but what if there was a bit more to it than that? What if the timing was a little off and Danny, Sam, and Tucker got there a bit earlier than Vlad and Danny actually trained with someone in the Ninja ways? Say, a guardian spirit he warned about Vlad trying to take over the kingdom?

To be fair, Danny’s a fast learner so picking up sword fighting probably wouldn’t take too long. And better yet, it would explain how Danny managed to blend in so well in this scene because I’d like to think that if Vlad didn’t already KNOW it was him, Danny learned how to mask his ghost signature Ninja style.

See the full post

123 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

To cease the storm… To end the fear… The sword must sheathe… In pumpkin near!

~ Danny Phantom, Season 1, Fright Night

Original:

See the full post

131 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Once I got started on this, I couldn’t stop. Literally all I meant to do was make some line art for later out of a title card template I found to redraw from scratch for Halloween, but I got carried away while experimenting with some recolors as you can see...

I did redo Danny’s face since there were a lot of subtle differences between the concept art and the final version. Still, I’m sure you all know how much I love the Fright Knight so here’s another preemptive drawing since October is right around the corner!

Disclaimer, this is purely a work of fanart and Ray Leong gets credit for the original line art since they used to work for Butch. I don’t want to get in trouble or anything for using it so I won’t be sharing the line art template I made for this just in case, I will share a link to the original its based on though so they get proper credit!

Lineart: https://www.flickr.com/photos/ray_leong/2314966970/in/album-72157604059837585/

Official Title Card:

See the full post

133 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #thesoulspulse #thesoul'spulse #the souls pulse #the soul's pulse #2022

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kickypunchy · 2 years

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Chapter 3: Fateful Encounters

Aerith was the final Cetra to have lived on Gaia. They were an ancient people that tuned their entire civilization to be harmonious with the will of the planet. As such, she could retain her sense of self in the Lifestream after her death without effort. In fact, at times, it seemed that the planet itself was propping her up, seeking an answer from her.

Ever since Aerith found that she was able to “read” the planet’s memories, she had been scouring them one by one, trying to guide lost souls. She could often connect with them this way and dispel their ill will. This was the key to restore the cycle of spirit energy and heal the planet. But it proved to be too much for her to handle alone.

Whenever she felt like giving up, she would revisit her favorite memories, like this one on Loveless Street, where she first met Cloud. She found it funny that such a mundane encounter turned into one of the defining moments of her life. And now, with Sephiroth looming, she felt that embracing it was more important than ever. I don’t care what he’s scheming. Let him watch.

She looked at frozen Cloud one more time and started gathering the energy needed to resume the reading. The street began to reanimate. The sounds and smells of the city came rushing in. Cloud proceeded to walk toward her. She tried to meet eyes with him. Then all of a sudden, he doubled over and grabbed his head. Uh oh. That’s not the way it was supposed to happen.

In an instant, it became clear that Sephiroth wasn’t just a casual observer. He was aggressively trying to make contact with Cloud. He was doing exactly what Aerith was afraid to do all this time: infuse memories into Cloud and awaken his Lifestream consciousness. This is bad. I need to stop this.

She called out to him: “Are you okay!?” As he slowly straightened up, she asked again, “Hey... Are you okay?”

He obviously wasn’t, but responded, “I'm fine,” and briskly started walking past her. No, no, no. This isn’t working! Aerith quickly shuffled around him and blocked his path. Too much was going wrong, too fast. She remained hopeful, but a pang of desperation caused her to reach for a flower prematurely.

“Here. This is for you.”

“A flower?”

“That's right. It's a gift. You know, for scaring those things away.” She extended the flower out to him. She wanted him to reach out and take it with every fiber of her being. That would make everything right.

“What things?” What a disaster, she thought. Then, to herself, Quit trying so hard. Trust your instincts. “Never mind. Think of it as a memento.”

“Just my luck...” Did he think it was some kind of scam? Oh, Cloud. You’re a tough nut to crack.

“I heard that, you know.” She held the flower even closer to his face and awaited his response.

“How much?” He made no effort to hide his lack of interest - classic Cloud - but Aerith was feeling more at ease with the situation now.

“Well, that depends on the customer. In your case... It's on the house.” She reached over and stuck the flower in his suspender. “Lovers used to give these when they were reunited...” She knew that the flower would end up at Seventh Heaven. She expected to visit that memory later.

“Look, I'm involved in things. Dangerous things.” He still refused to warm up to her… and she still refused to be blown off.

“Oh, I'm sure you are. So?”

“So keep your distance.” Sephiroth definitely did something back there to put him on edge. I need to turn this around.

“Wait—you think someone's out to get you? Is that what you're all worked up about? Relax. No one's going to attack you. I promise.”

“Hey, a mako reactor just blew. You shouldn't be out here trying to sell fl—“ and in that moment, the wind gusts kicked up again. The encounter had dragged on too long and the memory was beginning to fall apart. Dropping her flowers again, she spun around and swatted at the air to no avail.

“Help me!” She looked at Cloud, who didn’t seem to be bothered by them at all. In a panic, she lunged at him and grabbed his wrist - and that’s when they appeared. Shadowy specters swirled around the two - and Cloud could see them now as well. He instinctively drew his sword and slashed at one. It completely disintegrated, but more of them kept appearing.

“What are they?” She said aloud. She had felt this presence many times before, but they’ve never appeared to her in this way. There wasn’t much time to ponder, because a group of Shinra infantrymen rushed over to them, guns drawn. One of them shouted: “Drop your weapon!” Aerith and Cloud watched as the specters began surrounding the troops as well, but they didn’t seem to notice. Cloud, thoroughly confused, responded to them, “Are you blind...?”

Aerith was caught off guard as well, but she knew this was most likely the result of the memory straying from the way the event actually happened. She should’ve been on her way home several minutes ago. “You know—you're right!” She was trying to find a way to leave gracefully, but one of the specters reared up in front of Cloud. She had no idea what it was about to do. I gotta get out of here! She immediately turned and ran for the alley.

Cloud shouted after her, “Wha—Wait!”

Aww how sweet! She had to say something back. She paused briefly and gave an anxious, “Nice meeting you!” and then she took off with the specters in tow. As she ran, she heard a security officer shout at Cloud again. He’ll be fine, she told herself. That was the least of her worries.

She slowed to a walk as the specters stopped their pursuit. She began to process what just happened, but her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed the gate that led to the station was closed. The gate was the only other way out of this alley. She already knew why it was closed before she felt his presence. It was Sephiroth again. She looked back down the alley toward Loveless Street only to see a wall of specters blocking her path. She had no further memories in that direction, after all.

“What are you after!?” she called out to Sephiroth, who materialized from black smoke on the opposite side of the gate, holding the key out in front of his chest for her to see. “The answers lie ahead. Would you like to proceed?” They both knew she wasn’t truly trapped in this situation. She could leave the memory any time she liked. Sephiroth was simply playing mind games, craftily reminding her of her limitations.

“This is an odd way to ask someone for their help.” She retorted.

His sarcasm faded and he looked directly at her. “We both need to face the truth if we are to succeed in saving the planet. I don’t wish to hurt you any further, but there is work to be done… we must tread a difficult and unfamiliar path.”

“Then tell me what you plan to do!” She was fed up with his riddles.

“When the time comes. For now, just know that I’ll be counting on you.” As he said this, he stepped toward the gate and began to stick the key in, but he didn’t make it that far. Aerith let the memory slip back into the flow of the Lifestream.

Asshole.

#ffvii #ff7 remake #ff7 #ff7 fanfic #sephiroth #ffvii rebirth #ffvii spoilers #ff7r #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #final fantasy oc #square enix #lifestream #ffvii fanfiction #dpntt #ff7 fanart

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apartyofone · 2 years

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Greatly missed

I'm a writer - or I used to be. For the past few weeks I've been trying to recharge my creative energies by doing daily writing assignments. I simply sit down at the keyboard and start tapping away at whatever comes to mind. Nothing scripted ahead of time. Stream of consciousness stuff. It's all part of what I hope will be a sustained routine that's good for the mind and body.

Anyway, here is today's efforts.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This Sunday and the next hold special meaning to me. Today is the day to celebrate mothers all around the globe. Next week's commemorative message will be more personal. So here's my best effort to summarize a few things about this remarkable woman I called: Mom.

Eleanor Catherine Bragg-S is no longer with us. It's been a little under 3 years since she slipped away. She passed quietly, two days after a massive stroke. Not the worst way to go.

She knew she was much loved. By her sons. By her friends. And especially by her husband, my dad. He passed on in 2013. Their marriage was strong in all the right ways. But they faced some difficult challenges together. Very little money for most of their marriage. The life of my severely mentally disabled brother and his death when he was age 11. Then my father's debilitating health issues during the last 10 years of his life.

She lived in one town for 85 of her 87 year long life. She was a true soul of the Rogue River Valley of Oregon. Our family was in the valley's main industry - pear growing. It was a tough life in comparison to others. Anyone making a living in agriculture understands that. We grew fruit prior to the advent of huge corporate farms. It was NAFTA that caused the true death blow to this industry, and my parents were retired before all of the orchards were pulled out. It's funny - within the last 30 years, this picturesque valley's ag industry has gone from pears.....to wine grapes.....and now to the greatest cash crop of all:

Cannabis. Thousands of acres of it.

My mom was a registered nurse, and a pretty good one. She had a strong career path to becoming a head nurse in our local hospital until the birth of my younger brother. From day one, Bill required the attention of both my parents. I did quite a lot too - probably more than I should have. I can't say that for my brother - and I think he's still guilty about it. I won't describe my brother's life here - at least not now. Suffice to say that my mom's career was very limited after that. She would work part time on the swing shift, from 3 pm to 11 pm. She took my brother to dozens of doctors up and down the west coast for treatments. She would spend Saturdays at the county library researching medical issues on her own. It was an exhausting existence for her.

We lived out in the country on a 40 acre tract of open land and orchard. My parents bought this tiny little house when they were first married and then remodeled/expanded it when I was very young. It was a comfortable country house, with an ancient barn and orchard shops to play in/around.

When I think back to those times, I tend to only think of the positives of my childhood. The truth was that my parents really didn't have to worry about me very much. Between my younger brother's health, and my older brother's bat shit crazy ass behavior, there was little time for them to really care about me. I don't want to describe it as like the film "Matilda" but there are some scenes in there that make me laugh and shrug. Through it all I learned about responsibility at a very early age. Too early probably. As I described my life history to one therapist a few years ago, I remember him telling me: "You were forced to be an adult by the age of 8; you really didn't have a childhood because of tending to your little brother's needs." I don't blame my mother or father about this situation one bit. They were trying their best. Always trying their best.

My mother's family came from the east coast. Her father - my grandfather - was the rebel in the family. He shocked his parents when, after getting an architecture degree at Cornell, he moved to the west coast. He had a little bit of family money that he sank into a pretty small pear farm. In the 1920s, 30s and 40s you could make a decent living farming a block of 75 acres. But while all his brothers were busy making fortunes in banking and the stock market, my grandfather was happy to scrape out a living in his orchard. But it was pretty tough.My mom's mother died very early in her life due to cancer. She was in the hospital down in Stanford, California for a couple of years, and the family would visit her every other month. She had few memories of her.

Growing up with a single father was difficult. She attended boarding schools in Utah - a period of time she hated. Came back to Oregon for high school. Needing a career, she attended Pomana College in southern California and then went to nursing school at Northwestern in Chicago.

I think my mom would have preferred to be born into the other side of the family at times. She was frustrated by our lack of money. She wanted us to come off as some rich, educated, sophisticated family when we would socialize with other people in our small town. Their friends were all the doctors, lawyers, bankers, etc. of the town and we were the farmers.

To make matters worse, my grandmother - from my father's side - had picked out very wealthy husbands in her later life. (She went through 5 of them in her life!) My father and his mother had an awkward relationship at times when it came to money, and that frustrated my mom. My grandmother was generous in giving them money for medical treatment for my brother, and paid my brother's college tuition costs. She started to pay some of mine but I declined them after my freshman year. I had enough scholarships and making my own money in the summers and during school to cover it. As for my grandmother's bank account, I really don't know what my mother expected and I stayed out of those arguments.

I was very fortunate to have spent a lot of time with both my father and mother after I had become an adult. When I graduated college in the early 1980s, most kids migrate far away and establish a different life in their 20s. I enjoyed extended family life with them all the way into my mid 30s until we sold the business. (Of course I recently read that over 50% of kids age 22-27 are still living with their parents due to economic challenges so I guess I was ahead of my time.)

After one year in the newspaper business and a round-the-world trip, I returned to Oregon and worked in our family mail order business from 1985 to 1996. If you know of the famed company Harry & David, then you understand what our little company was all about. We were a tiny little speck of a company when we took it over. Over the next 11 years we grew it - fast. We never rivaled H&D in sheer size but our operation was probably the second largest in the US when we sold it to Hickory Farms. My dad was involved in the commercial packing part of our business, I ran the mail order business and my mom was responsible for our retail stores around Oregon. Working in a family business isn't for everyone, but I look back on those days with a lot of pride. And happiness. The three of us took dozens of trips to gourmet food shows and meetings with our ad agencies in Portland and San Francisco.

(Side note - I eventually had to "fire" my own mother from her job. I'll write about that someday.)

My mother's family had a history of mental issues. Her older sister had sometimes severe mental breakdowns. She was institutionalized at various times. My mother was never quite as afflicted, but there would be spells later in life when she suffered severe episodes. My father put up with a lot of bullshit from my mom over the years. Her alcohol habits made things worse the older she got. She resisted taking any kind of medication because of irrational fears that it would make her want to commit suicide. (?!?!?). Somehow they stayed married.

After we sold the business, my parents spent time traveling. First in the Pacific to visit my brother and his new wife, Kim. Then later to Ireland, England and Italy. They never got to France. I guess I'll have to do it for them.

My earliest memories confirm that my parents loved being at this mountain lake about 45 minutes from our hometown. It's called Lake of the Woods, and each summer we would rent a cabin and stay a few weeks. There are about 250 cabins located around this still gorgeous natural lake high in the Cascade Mountains. When I was in college, they managed to save enough money to buy a small cabin near the lake. It was an absolute steal - and it proved to be the best thing for the last 25 years of their lives. They fixed it up, added another bedroom and it became their summer home for a couple of decades. One of my most prized personal possessions is a watercolor painting that my mother did of the cabin. In the picture I can see my Dad seated in a chair at a table reading - where he spent hours each and every day. Every marriage should have some kind of shared passion, and this lake cabin was it for my mom and dad.

When my father's health was declining they finally decided to put it up for sale. My brother had the notion of trying to buy it from them - I had long since moved to the east coast and so wasn't in the picture. My brother was pretty miffed that he didn't get a chance to buy it - but it turned out to be a huge blessing. This tiny cabin that my parents bought in 1980 for $30,000......sold for $550,000 25 years later and helped to fund their retirement living! (As it turned out, my brother bought himself another cabin at the same lake and it's turned into HIS passion for his forced (medically induced) retirement now too.

I wonder what my passion is going to be as I wind down my life? Hopefully it's somewhere or someone in France.

After my father passed, my mother was never very happy. She finally did give in to to her doctor's insistence and started taking medication for her mental issues. She was very stable for much of the rest of her life. I think she probably wished she had taken them earlier in her life, especially when my father was alive because of all the grief she caused him.

My mom and brother made a plan to move her to Portland - where he lives - so that he could be closer to help. Their relationship - my brother and my mom - was very difficult all her life. Especially involving my brothers wife. She is Australian and has zero filter. The two of them clashed from the very start. Years would go by when the two of them couldn't be in the same room. I blame my mom for most of these issues but Kim certainly didn't make it easy until much later. After my Dad passed, Kim really tried to understand my mom and they finally arrived at a civilized truce.

Without my dad around, my mom's drinking got steadily worse. She would suffer falls, have hospital stays for injuries, spend time in rehab centers. It was a tough last few years. Despite these episodes her doctors pronounced her very fit for her age. Her passing was a complete shock. I had the opportunity to see her many times each year, flying out to Portland to visit one of my company's brands. I'd spend 4 days or so 3X per year so I don't feel guilty being far away. We'd talk every Sunday night - looking at the clock - right about now.

She got to know her grandchildren/my kids. She was very supportive of C and his transition. S attended college for a year in Ashland, about 10 miles away from where she lived, and so those two got closer.

The Episcopal Church was very important to her. We would all bundle up in the family station wagon and attend Sunday services each and every week. Most of her close friends through her life were also involved with St. Marks Church of Medford. All those people were truly family friends, the kind that stay with you through every up and down of life. Her funeral service was filled with all those remaining souls. That's something I regret never seeking out and finding for myself. It's probably too late now.

No mother is perfect. God knows mine wasn't. But she was special and unique. She was giving and loving. Smart and funny.

Happy Mothers day, Mom. I sure miss you.

#happy mothers day #mothers day

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ejunkiet · 2 years

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bridges

finally finished the milo-sweetheart bridging fic! >:3 tagging @calicostorms!

redacted asmr: milo x sweetheart. rated teen, 1.5k wordcount.

READ FULL VERSION ON AO3

It has been a month since the events of Inversion. Milo deals with the aftermath. Sweetheart suggests they try something new.

I can feel your core. It’s strong. It has - they laugh, and it’s delighted, breathless - it has teeth.

That’ll be the wolf, sweetheart.

PART ONE.

–

PART TWO: BRIDGES

Breathe with me.

Their heartbeat is strong beneath his palm, steady. A sense of calm radiates from them as he closes his eyes, clearing his thoughts as he shifts his focus inwards.

There’s a swell of anticipation rising within him, a thrill at the thought of sharing this connection with them - but he also can’t deny the apprehension that accompanies it.

This is deeper magic than he usually fucks with. From what he’s heard of it, it’s a mirror of the pack bond: a telepathic link between two individuals. It’s more than that though - more than just thoughts filtering through the connection, emotions and sensations filtering through too.

A bridge between two souls.

He takes a breath. Two. Their magic swells around them, a rising wave, before-

“Christ, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t know what he expected. He’s felt their aura before, quiet like a whisper against the skin, but like this, it’s - yeah. Different.

They feel… like shadow and light. Quiet as a hushed prayer, or a murmured litany - evoking half-remembered images of countless sundays, old books and soft morning light.

Their magic intertwines with his, as soft as a whisper against the flickering pulse of his own, and fuck, it feels incredible.

“Can you meet me, in the middle?”

He can try. It’s - difficult, even on a good day; his magic just doesn’t work like that, his threads wrapped tightly around his core, around every single bone and muscle. It takes effort to push it outwards, and a heck of a lot of focus.

But he manages it, and then-

I feel you. There's a smile on their lips, and he can feel that too - the blossoming warmth of their affection. Can you feel me?

God, he can. Like this, it’s as if they’re surrounding him, warmth and movement. They have more finesse in this than he does, more control. It takes his breath away.

I can feel you, sweetheart.

A brush, almost like a caress. My wolf.

His heart aches at that, sharp and bittersweet, and they can feel that too, a flash of emotion burning through them - bright and fierce, a determination, almost too powerful to contain.

Christ, he loves them.

My mate. It’s whispered with every part of his being, a sense of pride and belonging swelling into their bond, and fuck.

I’m going to go deeper. Tell me if it gets to be too much.

I trust you. He does. Wholly, innately. It’s bone-deep, and now they know that too.

Another smile flickers across their lips, another burst of affection, before their focus shifts. The gentle sea of their aura is all around him, inside of him, tangling with his own, until he can barely tell where his magic ends and theirs begins.

It’s a strange sensation. Intimate. Two souls, sharing two bodies. He can hear their spell song, the whispers of it that dance along their threads. They can hear his.

They hum, sharing the thought. You sound like the forest. The whisper of the wind through the trees. The creak of ancient wood. The patter of little heartbeats. They grin. The thrill of the hunt.

He matches their grin, acknowledging that. That sounds about right.

What do I sound like?

He thinks about it, trying to put it into words. The ocean.

Not the surf, but the deepest part, where the light can barely reach, but life flourishes all the same. Hushed and quiet and all-encompassing.

Their eyes are bright as they meet his gaze again. Beautiful.

They take another breath, and then-

There.

He can feel it, when they make contact, a frisson of energy, excitement, spiralling through him, raising the hair on his arms.

I can feel your core. It’s strong. It has - they laugh, and it’s delighted, breathless - it has teeth.

That’ll be the wolf, sweetheart.

They’re quiet for a moment, and he can feel their mind whirling.

I think… I can help.

His heart leaps in his chest, a rush of emotion following it before he tamps them down - there’s a lot of caveats to that statement, even if there’s a grain of truth in there as well.

Their mind is a flurry of thoughts and ideas, too fast and complex for him to keep track - but he trusted them when they suggested this, and he trusts them now to know what they’re doing.

Whatever you think needs to be done. I meant it when I said trust you.

He can feel the rush of affection that follows as they acknowledge that - there’s little they can hide from each other, not when they’re like this - and that means he can also feel the strain that extending themselves like this is putting on them, as well.

Just don’t exhaust yourself on my account.

I won’t. They huff at the flicker of disbelief that runs through the connection. I won’t go that far. But this is important.

He allows that. He’ll be keeping an eye on the bond regardless; he can feel the strain too, although it’s clear they’re taking the brunt of it. With how unstable his magic has been lately, he's limited in his ability to help - but he can pull back, if it gets to be too much.

Take another breath with me. Hold it.

He feels their aura press more closely against his, an unwavering pulse of energy - before it twists, turning into a dozen tiny threads, and holy shit, the amount of control a move like that takes-

Their aura wraps around him, braiding into his, until with another shift, they align completely.

Holy shit.

It’s like they’re in sync, their magic, their breath, their beings. Their cores move to the same rhythm, and it’s intimate in a way he has never experienced before.

I know. They're just as breathless as he is, bright eyes sparkling with excitement. Watch this.

Their aura flares, before their form flickers in and out of sight before him, and he can feel that too – feel the way their magic shifts, weaving through muscle and bone until they’re as intangible as air.

Another breath, and they’re back, those beautiful bright eyes focused back on his own.

Now, you. Try to shift. Reach for the wolf.

He hesitates. He can’t help it - every time he’s attempted this, the kickback has knocked him on his ass - and there’s also the fear, lingering beneath it all, that it won’t work. That it can’t work, that it’s broken beyond repair, and every failed attempt just shatters it even more.

Their hand over his squeezes, grounding him. I’ve got you. You’re not alone.

He’s so fucking grateful for them, in that moment.

Squeezing their hand back, he takes another breath, letting his eyes slip shut.

He calls on the wolf. It’s there, within him - always there, a feeling of fur and teeth and belonging, the call of the pack, which he misses with a ferocity that aches.

Their magic pulses alongside his own, stabilising his threads as the shift starts - and he can feel the familiar itch in his teeth as they elongate, the ripple of sensation across his shoulders, and jesus fucking christ.

He stops there, before the full shift can take hold - the connection is still too weak, fraying at the seams with only this – but still, he’d felt it. The wolf. It’s the closest he’s gotten to it since that hellish night at the stadium, four weeks ago.

Holy shit.

“You’re not broken.” It’s the first thing they say when he opens his eyes again, his heart beating like a snare drum inside his chest, anxiety and relief fighting for dominance amidst a turbulent storm of emotion. “It’s still there. You just need a little more time.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I… I know.” He does, now - now that he’s felt it, felt the change take root, the stretch of muscle, the crack of bone. Not the full shift, not by any means - but still, he’d felt the wolf, intimately, felt it settle within him like it had never left, and fuck, it felt good.

A cool brush of a fingertip across his cheek. He’s crying, he realises, his throat choked - an overflowing of emotion that he can’t hold back, doesn’t want to.

His voice is little more than a whisper. “Just. Christ.”

“I know. I know.” They open their arms and he stumbles into them, his breathing shallow, his face hot and swollen and shit, he’s a mess, but it doesn’t matter when it’s them, and they’re holding him like this, tight and close and firm.

“Just a little more time. Only a little more.”

He can wait. With them, for this - he can wait.

#redacted asmr #redacted milo #redacted milo/sweetheart #ej writes redacted #writing #redacted inversion spoilers #this was FUN to write and also 100% self-indulgent wish fulfilment #ENJOY

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riacte · 3 years

Text

HBomb watching Grian’s world tour.

It’s like 1h 30mins long with the commentary. Here’s some highlights lol. Keep in mind most of this is paraphrased :P

*seeing Grian has 61 eps* Hermitcraft is nuts. They are so invested and talented.”

“Did they makes little railing things to send messages to each other? That’s the cutest thing ever. It’s like when you’re living on treehouses with your next door neighbour.” OK HBOMB WAIT TILL YOU SEE THE SEASON WHEN REN AND FALSE LITERALLY LIVE IN THE SAME AREA.

Grian, about the mansion: It’s lacking soul

H: WHERE??

H FREAKING OUT ABT STRESS’S BUTTERFLIES

About Grian’s chest monsters: “I’m starting to realize me and Grian have a lot in common.”

“You can give villagers dragon heads?”

He was stunned into silence by Scar’s Big Dig. For like fifteen seconds. Just gaping.

About the Big Dig: that’s more work by Scar than we put into Dream SMP

AND YEAH HE HASN’T EVEN SEEN THE SHOPPING DISTRICT???

About Mumbo’s base: “This is so beautiful”

H said people really under appreciate Minecraft grass and leaves. YEAH HE’S ON TEAM HEP LMAO.

He smiled so much at Grian and Mumbo’s shenanigans lol.

He screamed “ISKALL!” the moment the Omega Tree came into view. And he proudly told chat “I KNOW THAT GUY!”

H legit made the POG face when he saw Stress’ base. “I thought they all lived super far from each other.” “I know Stress too!! She’s on Vault Hunters!”

“I wanna see more of the dragonflies”

“Renpog renpog renpog? That’s my MCC9 Teammate”

About Ren: “he’s nuts”

About Ren’s Darth Vader base: “this would take me a full year to build”

AND THEN REN SAID “<3 <3 <3” in chat

“We love Ren in this chat. Ren’s out of his mind.”

Now he said Ren put in more effort than everyone on DSMP except Sam.

Grian: I struggle with terraforming

H: I struggle with everything compared to the Hermitcrafters.”

“It’s so crazy!” H said while massaging his head.

“Mumbo Baggins.”

“I forgot about Keralis! I haven’t watched him in so long.”

H also stared at Keralis’ build for ten seconds just making the Pog face.

“I can’t tell how big that is. 30 blocks or 300.”

“I feel like there’s always 40 people on the server.” Good try, H. Lol.

Grian fell down Keralis’ hotel’s elevator chute but flew himself to safety. “Grian’s at 3 hearts. Thank God’s he’s so good with an elytra.”

H about graffiti: “Oh I love this”

H saw the Keralis Bee in front of X’s base and instantly made the same face.

Grian admitted he doesn’t watch his friends.

H: as a content creator, it’s very awkward to watch your friends. 100%.

He said Etho was the first MCYT he fanboyed over aaaa

About Etho’s base: ohh it’s so cool

“I love that the beacon is going through the end crystal!”

About Wel’s base:

Grian: I don’t think he’s on very much

H: that’s more than I built in my lifetime

H confusedly squinting and peering at Zedaph’s base lmaoo

About Tango’s base: “that looks straight out of a Doctor Suess novel. I LOVE IT. I LOVE THESE TWO (Tango and Impulse’s) BUILDINGS.”

About Impulse’s base: the quartz and water combined look really cool

Grian, about Impulse’s base: is this mega?

H: y e s

Grian: no

H: that thing is freaking huge. I’ll say that’s mega. That’s huge. It’s mega.

Grian: it’s not mega

H: it goes down the water IT’S MEGA

H ARGUING WITH GRIAN ABOUT MEGA

H stared at Tango’s base for fifteen secs. “I love it. I love it. Chat, have I ever told you I love it.”

“Did he make an iron farm with ravagers?!”

Grian: I don’t know what I’m doing with farms

H: I don’t know what I’m doing 24/7

LMAO BOTH H AND GRIAN BEING CONFUSED BY TANGO’S PEASHOOTER CREEPER FARM

HE RECOGNIZED FALSE’S BASE AYYYY

“She’s nuts, chat”

“When I raid False, I ask my chat to ask her to show her base because it’s so freaking cool”

Grian: is False’s base mega

Grian: this is juuuuust mega

H, screaming: JUST? I’m gonna throw hands with Grian

H: LET’S TALK. CHAT.

Then he proceeded to talk about False’s water at the bottom of her base and how she had to place water sources and blocks (chat told him she used ice, but hey it’s the thought that counts)

“That’s insane, chat!! It’s so cool!”

“I’m ready to throw hands with Grian.”

He wanted to win the mega argument with Grian lol. “Hbomb VS Grian.”

“I actually don’t know what Grian looks like irl. He might beat me up.”

H stared at Cleo’s armour stands. “OHH THAT’S SICK!”

“WHY IS SHE ABLE TO MAKE BETTER MINECRAFT CREATURES THAN MOJANG. EXPLAIN.”

“I’m still mad at you on the megabase thing. Other than that, we’re good.”

He watched False make the Nether hub on Twitch.

Grian: X made this Nether build-

H: X gonna give it to ya

“Ren and False are just built differently.”

H’s face legit froze when he saw Cub’s base. And he bellowed “WHY?!”

H: size matters

“Link’s ready to throw hands with Grian” (Link is H’s dog)

“He managed to make our Targay look absolutely irrelevant.”

“Do you think they’ll let me on to play with them? Just for like, twenty minutes? 🥺👉👈”

“THAT IS DOPE!!”

“Walls made out of ancient debris. Jesus Christ. WHY?!”

Pomo, donation: impulse once raised his base by one block bcz he thought it looked better

H: oh no

“Imagine there was an ancient debris wall on the Dream SMP, chat. It would be there for an hour. Maybe two. Maybe.”

“Doc was another Minecracker”

He was so relieved when he saw Joe’s stuff lol. Since people can be “normal”.

About Mt. Goatmore: OHH THAT’S DOPE!

He went to a Bdubs meet up when he was in college. And had a photo and autograph of Bdubs and Gen.

“Yo that cliff is dope”

About Bdubs’ castle: I won’t be surprised if he used diamond blocks.

“I love how Bdubs use the nether wood trapdoors.”

He loved the anvil droppers thing and said he’s gonna steal the idea. He also mentioned Beef and Mindcrack.

H is such a HC stan now lol. AND HE WANTS TO PLAY THE HC MINIGAMES. PLEASE LET THE MAN ON. Also he’s gonna vibe so well with Grian. Not only do they have similar views in MCC but also in a lot of other things (don’t watch their friends, chest monsters, etc).

#hermitcraft #hbomb94 #mcyt #ria.txt #would tag more #but im tired

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.

Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.

Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.

Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.

But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.

Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.

She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.

So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.

A long way home was awaiting her.

And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”

It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.

When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.

The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.

But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.

She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.

She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.

“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.

Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.

“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”

Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.

“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”

“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”

“Squad Leader…”

“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.

In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.

And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.

Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.

But she was alone in that bed.

There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.

There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.

A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.

She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.

She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.

But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.

He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.

Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.

If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.

“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.

He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.

In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.

Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.

“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”

Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.

There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.

Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.

Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—

She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.

“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”

Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.

These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.

“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”

She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”

“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”

“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”

“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”

“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”

She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.

“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”

“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”

Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?

She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”

“It is. It always will.”

The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.

A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.

“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.

___

Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.

Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.

But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.

This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.

“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”

“You always have been heroes.”

You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.

“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”

The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”

Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”

Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.

“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”

Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.

“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.

Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.

Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”

The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…

The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?

“He actually wrote so?”

“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”

Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.

“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.

“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”

Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.

“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.

Not like she did.

Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.

Sina’s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.

Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.

“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”

He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”

Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.

“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”

Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”

Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.

Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”

“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”

Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.

What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?

Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.

___

Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.

The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.

Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…

Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”

“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.

Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.

The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.

But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.

“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”

“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”

“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”

So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.

“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”

Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."

Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?

Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?

"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"

"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"

Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.

___

For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.

The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.

Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.

"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.

If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.

As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.

All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.

At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.

But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.

"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."

Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.

She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?

Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."

"I have—"

"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."

"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"

Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.

"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.

Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."

Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.

Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.

___

Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.

Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.

"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"

"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,

"Hange and I have been working together before."

"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"

"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.

"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."

"Nice ones, I hope?"

The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"

"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."

"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."

Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.

"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.

"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.

"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.

Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.

"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"

"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."

"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."

Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"

"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."

"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.

"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"

"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"

Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.

"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.

"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.

Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"

Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."

"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."

"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."

"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?

"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."

"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."

Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.

"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."

Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.

"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."

Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.

“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”

In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.

Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.

“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”

That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”

“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”

That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.

Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,

“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”

Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”

It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.

“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.

But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.

“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”

“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”

That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.

“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.

“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”

Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?

Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.

But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.

She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—

And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.

She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—

A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.

It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—

"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"

She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.

"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.

Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.

___

"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."

His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."

Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."

"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"

She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.

Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.

But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.

Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.

On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.

And so the shadow finally took form.

Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.

At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.

"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"

Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."

Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.

"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"

Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"

"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"

"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”

Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”

Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.

But what would she do?

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."

After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.

However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.

Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?

Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—

She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.

Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?

It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.

Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.

And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.

But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.

There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.

Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.

She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.

She just needed to give him a little push.

“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”

Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.

The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

#does someone still remember that fic? i for sure had almost forgotten about it jdfsdkhgsjgh #levihan

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