#his work is so beautiful. the compass and surveying pass at the top.....

[corvidaedream]

theres something extremely powerful in studying your local history and ive said that before but also its extra intense when you keep running into a guy who 250 years ago was the same age you are now and was working in the field your degree is in and you're just looking up maps of the city for research unrelated to him, and your search gets you an unbelievably beautiful and detailed map he drew of this city you both share across time.

[lizaloveslevihan]

if you have some angsty writing energy rn: hc where jean notices that hange hasn’t fully grieved or come to terms with erwin and moblit’ deaths, so he gets over his fear of levi to ask him with how to help hange because he’s so concerned for her

Title: Hange-san

Ao3 Link: Here

Notes: I also got some inspiration from this beautiful art I saw on Twitter.

They weren’t really close by any standards. Thinking about it, they probably just had two or three conversations the entire time Jean had known him. But his utter devotion was enough to catch anyone’s attention. If he wasn’t screaming at her to take care of herself, he did it silently by running each tiny errand and sticking with her like glue. He always walked by her side — shoulders hunched from obvious stress, hair a little unkempt, but hazel eyes as bright as ever, taking in every word she said despite the obvious dark circles underneath them. It was almost as if her personality and lifestyle were being injected into him, giving him life. 

Jean hadn’t really understood the nature of their relationship before — couldn’t comprehend the idea of someone so willing to put up with Hange-san’s eccentricities and borderline craziness, day in and day out, especially given their slightly above average wages. It hadn’t seemed romantic at first glance by any means (he would have gotten a different vibe from them if it were the case) but rather, it was fueled and strengthened by a strong sense of loyalty and attentiveness. Those in the Survey Corps had dedicated their hearts to fighting titans and ensuring freedom for humanity, and though vice-captain Moblit Berner essentially did the same, it was as if a large chunk of his heart was dedicated only to Hange-san. 

Jean paused, taking that new idea in. He stood outside the newly-appointed commander’s office, the journal he found tucked securely at his side. He had been hesitant to see her, especially after yesterday. She had asked him privately, eyes devoid of any emotion, tone full of anguish, if he could clean and clear out the former vice captain’s room. He understood her pain and had somehow expected this request — they were all grieving, having lost all those people — but he didn’t expect to feel pain over the task given to him. 

His room was neat enough when Jean entered it yesterday morning. The bed was made, the shelves free of dust, and each article of clothing folded neatly inside his small closet. The only thing out of place was his desk which had mountains of paperwork that still lay on top of it. 

He didn’t know him that well. They weren’t really close. But as Jean shuffled through and organized every piece of paper, every work of art, each sketch of an unfamiliar face, he felt his chest tightening. He vaguely remembered the vice-captain being an excellent artist, but he didn’t realize just how talented he was. 

For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to see Hange-san’s face more so than the others. He had drawn her messy hair and wild eyes so perfectly that Jean felt as if he wasn’t worthy to even touch those pieces of paper. Some of them were hastily drawn, some with exquisite detail. He also saw sketches of her with captain Levi, and his eyes widened at one particular portrait where he was drawn gripping his teacup and smiling at her tenderly. 

Damn it, Jean thought as he gingerly placed those papers back down on the desk. He would have loved to take lessons from the vice-captain if he only knew just how amazing he was. He had always been passionate about making art and drawing things he saw in his dreams back when he was younger. But of course, he had buried it in the face of reality. Seeing these sketches lit up a fire inside him. A fire that both consisted of his long-lost passion and the grief and sorrow he had tried to conceal ever since they returned from Shiganshina. He had looked around the room and let out a deep breath. No, he couldn’t allow himself to linger too much on those thoughts. He knew if he kept thinking about the warm, artistic vice-captain, he would be plunged into a deep abyss. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop seeing every single face that they lost, especially him. Especially that warm, freckled face full of joy and compassion. That face which had looked at him with so much respect and admiration.

Shaking his head, he forced his mind to turn blank. He started to stack all those papers neatly on top of one another, finally freeing the desk of its mess. However, that was what exactly led him to find the dreaded journal whose contents would continue to haunt him for the rest of the day. 

Jean shook his head and looked up, staring at the door to her office. He had been plagued by those thoughts since that task. The commander had ordered him to drop all of his things in her office and so far Jean had made two trips without her being in there. He had a feeling, however, she was behind those doors this time around. He internally debated with himself if he should enter now or wait for her to go to town, seeing as she had a meeting with Zackley later today. However, before he could even decide, the door swung open. Jean jumped up, a little startled, and was met with captain Levi’s usual impassive expression. 

“What are you doing here, Jean?” the captain asked, raising an eyebrow. He crossed his arms and lingered at the doorway. 

“I, uh,” Jean started, scratching the back of his neck and trying to keep eye contact as much as possible, “I’m here to hand the commander some of—”

“It’s Hange,” the captain cut him off, now closing the door behind him. “I know you’re obligated to call her by that title, and that’s fine for formal occasions, but I want you to keep calling her what you and the other brats call her as much as possible, alright?”

The captain didn’t elaborate any further, which made Jean a little uneasy. He gripped the journal tighter and nodded. He already had a good feeling as to why he would ask such a thing. 

“At ease,” the captain spoke quietly, placing a hand on Jean’s shoulder. “You and the brats did well.” Jean looked down and saw… pride? relief? emotions that weren’t normally seen behind the captain's light gray eyes. He allowed himself to briefly recall what had happened on the rooftop. How the captain kept moving forward despite all the pain and loss he endured was unbeknownst to Jean. But then again, that’s what all of them have been doing ever since they joined the Survey Corps, wasn’t it? Is this how his life would always be like? Taking in loss after loss and moving forward from each friend? Forced to kill others with no hesitation? Valuing certain lives and sacrificing others? Clearing out each empty bedroom after every mission? As he was nearing that dark abyss, the captain pulled him out by saying: “Don’t blame yourself with what happened with Reiner, alright? If I only had killed him before he transformed, maybe we wouldn’t have been in this goddamn mess.” the captain recalled briefly, shaking his head and scrunching his eyebrows, “Hange’s inside. Don’t linger too much. She still has a lot of things to do.” and with that, he made his way past Jean and went off across the hallway. 

Jean couldn’t help but stare after the captain. He had already come to terms with the fact that it was him who let Reiner get away. That it had all been his fault. But here was the captain, who, the same as Hange-san, took the blame and responsibility for letting the armored and beast titan escape. He felt that it came from more than their positions as superior officers but from their genuine kindness. Their desire to look over everyone. He felt both comforted and pained because of it. 

He also couldn't help but think of what the vice-captain had said about captain Levi in his journal...

He shook his head once again. They needed time. He needed time. He already had enough things to deal with because of the damn journal. With a deep sigh, he walked towards the commander’s office and knocked thrice on the door. After he heard a small, muffled “come in,” he pushed it open and was surprised to see her not behind her desk, but standing by the window, looking out at the training grounds across them.

“I’ve brought the last of his things, Hange-san,” Jean said as he closed the door behind him. When she didn’t respond, he shuffled his feet nervously and looked around the office. Bookshelves were covering both sides of the wall, a large desk pressed at the very back, littered with numerous paperwork and books, and the two large windows on either side of which. It felt a little stuffy if he were being completely honest. He had been to Hange-san’s lab before where things were much more chaotic and disorganized, but much more full of life. This place, well, felt like it didn’t belong to her at all. 

Which was pretty much a given, considering she had just moved in. The place still embodied the late and great Erwin Smith. 

After a few seconds passed, she finally turned around and flashed him a small smile. 

It was obviously forced.

“Thank you, Jean,” she spoke, walking up to him and gently taking the journal from his outstretched hands. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she inspected the object. “I… forgot this existed.”

Jean simply nodded, not really knowing what to say. He still felt incredibly awkward. 

The commander kept looking at the old, worn-out book as she took a seat behind her desk. She still hadn’t removed the bandages that covered her damaged eye. “This was what he always carried around whenever we did the experiments on those titans. Even if we weren’t doing them, actually. I remember him telling me how his life’s work was here, should he die in the field. How I should inherit it, on the assumption that I’d live longer than him…”

Jean would have had no problem with this conversation if only he didn’t open the book and flipped through the pages himself. Yes, he would be pained, but not as pained if he didn’t read through the long letters that the vice-captain had left in that book. If he hadn’t digested every tiny sketch and word. He had no business in doing so, perhaps he could even get punished should Hange-san find out what he had done, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that sparked within him. Only if he could turn back time. He wished he’d never read those letters. It was just too much. 

“He… saved you, didn’t he Hange-san?” Jean muttered respectfully, his body incredibly stiff. She looked up at him, her face just so tired. “When Bertholdt transformed, he pushed you to safety…?”

“I knew it would come to that one day.” the commander said both wistfully and solemnly, “I’ve always been a handful. Careless. Absentminded. Reckless.” she listed off, drumming her fingers on the wooden desk, “I keep getting too close to the mouths of titans. I was more than okay with dying. Especially if it meant I had contributed one way or another to humanity’s freedom. There was this myth I had read before, you know? It was in a storybook meant for children to warn them to never leave the walls.”

At this, she stood up and started walking around the room. “It was a tale of this child who was given wings by his uncle, or was it his father? I couldn’t quite remember. They were trying to escape and leave this tower by flying away. The older man had warned him not to fly too close to the sun, but the boy, being this curious little thing, didn’t listen. Thus, his wings were burned and he fell to his death.” the commander laughed bitterly, her fingers trailing the bookshelves on the left side of the room, “He had always warned me not to fly too close to the sun, Jean. But I still did. Instead of me, it was him who suffered the consequences. It makes me wonder… what if one day, I’ll have this chance again? What if I fly, soaring through the clouds, and my recklessness or heroism or whatever the rest of you would call it, would cause me to fly too close to the sun?”

Jean wanted to leave. He didn’t like the words that were coming out of the commander’s mouth. He wanted to shut himself in his room and maybe sleep this whole thing off. He didn’t want to think about her dying, or anyone for that matter, especially after the loss they were still trying to deal with. That story upset him more than he realized, especially since it didn’t seem too far-fetched at this point, considering all the gruesome deaths he had seen. He knew it was the grief talking and the pressure from her new position, but still, it unnerved him to see someone he always knew was filled with life looking so dead inside. 

“You meant a lot to him, Hange-san,” Jean replied, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. You meant a lot to him more than anyone in this world, if he were being completely honest. “We always want to keep the people we care about safe, sometimes even if it means sacrificing our lives. He will always live on, in you — in us. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

Jean didn’t really know what he was saying — the words he uttered felt meaningless in the grand scheme of things — but he knew they were words that needed to be said. After reading those things, well, he felt as if he needed to give her as much assurance as possible. 

The commander gave him a tight-lipped smile, her remaining eye tearing up. She approached him, and it was only then Jean finally noticed how she had a slight limp in her step. How her shoulders were tight and slumped forward. She placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded at him. “Thank you, Jean. You don’t know how much that means to me. You’re a great kid and I hope you know that you’ve proven to be an invaluable asset to not only the Survey Corps but to humanity as well. And,” Jean met her eye and his chest tightened once again in seeing it glimmer with a sense of pride, “thank you for cleaning Moblit’s room. I could have done it myself but…”

“I understand, Hange-san,” Jean said, his voice surprisingly reassuring despite the overwhelming amount of emotions he felt. She finally said his name. “I really do.”

The commander smiled a little brighter this time — the most genuine one yet, “Thank you.” and Jean felt that statement didn’t only apply to this situation. “Once we settle everything with Zackley, I’ll let you kids take a much-needed break. You mentioned your mother lives in Trost, is that right?”

“Yes, along with the rest of my family,” Jean replied, the prospect of seeing his mother again warming him up. He still wasn’t able to visit her due to the situation at hand, but he was eager to finally do so. He had always been reluctant in the past due to his embarrassment, but now he understood how superficial those fears were. He was so lucky, luckier than most, that he still had a family to go back to at the end of the day. 

The commander nodded before squeezing his shoulder. “Make sure the rest of your squad finishes up their reports, alright? I want them on my desk tomorrow morning.” 

“Understood, Hange-san.” Jean nodded in return, offering her a small smile. 

She finally stepped away and Jean took this opportunity to carefully walk to the door. However before he could open it, the commander called him once more. 

“Don’t blame yourself over anything, alright?” she said, crossing her arms, her voice now laced with a sense of authority, “It was always my decision. It was always my responsibility. I hope you remember that.”

He felt a knife pierce at his heart from her words — the same words the captain had told him no less than twenty minutes ago. He recalled the letters he had read from the vice captain’s journal and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He wondered briefly if he should get Hange-san to leave for her meeting with Zackley first before opening up the book and reading through everything in it, something Jean was sure she was going to do once he left her alone. But how could he possibly tell her without causing suspicion? How could he possibly tell her that whatever she was about to read could potentially break her? More so than she already was?

He couldn’t, because he shouldn’t have read those things in the first place. He shouldn’t have let his curiosity get the best of him. So instead, he simply nodded and quietly muttered a “thank you” before leaving. 

He went down the other hallway to make sure he wouldn’t come across captain Levi. He needed to clear his thoughts before he could face them anytime soon. Jean wondered what his reaction would be if he read those letters as well. He let out a large sigh. Either way, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as Hange-san’s.

*******

The next couple of days had been surprisingly normal enough. They had filed reports, went into countless meetings after the other to discuss the situation regarding what they had found in Shiganshina, all the while still sending letters to each family who had lost a member in the battle. He didn’t see much of the commander other than the times they had to present themselves to Zackley, during which she acted completely fine — delivering each line with that of a smooth and authoritative manner. Other than that, she was gone — either in her office or delivering each letter of condolence personally. When he heard of that, his respect for her had grown even more immensely. She was an unbelievably kind and compassionate leader, and Jean felt even more honored to be working with her. 

The promised day-off eventually came. Hange-san could only give everyone three days, seeing as recruits were going to be entering the Corps soon which meant Jean and the rest of his friends had to work on training them. Either way, he was glad to be getting some time to spend with his family. His mother was for sure going to dote on him to no end, but surprisingly, he was looking forward to it. 

Already dressed in his civilian attire with his carry-on pack by his shoulder, Jean made his way to the commander’s office once more to inform them of his departure. He had visited Sasha earlier at the hospital and was pleased to know that she would be discharged later today and would be going to her family straight after. He offered to wait for her and drop her off himself, still wary of her injury, but Connie had offered to do it in his place. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin having no place to go opted to go around town for the day, and Floch had already left to visit his own family which basically meant Jean was the only one left in headquarters. 

He finally rounded the corner and was about to knock on the old wooden door when he heard a loud crash followed by a screaming match. He immediately stepped back, feeling his blood run cold at the sounds. Only two people could possibly be behind those doors, and he didn’t like that he was hearing any of these things right now. He was lucky that the doors were thick enough to muffle the details of their conversation or their screaming match, but he still picked up on certain sentences.

“He would know exactly what to do next!”

“You’re not supposed to be him! Don’t you understand that?!”

Should I just leave? Make a run for it? Hange-san would surely understand, Jean thought to himself, panic building up in his chest. He recalled that time in his childhood where his parents would fight over food or jobs or whatever adults had fought about. He always felt uncomfortable and disheartened, thinking his parents hated each other and would never get along again. He didn’t like seeing the ugly things that had transpired between them. However, before he could even decide, the door suddenly slammed open, but this time, instead of captain Levi, Hange-san came out, walking briskly and angrily. She didn’t even notice Jean standing there and moved past him, shoulders scrunched together, a frustrated hand running through her already messy hair. 

“Oi! Hange!” captain Levi exclaimed, suddenly appearing by the door frame, running a hand through his hair as well. The bags under his eyes were deeper, as usual, his cravat loose around his neck. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but it was obvious it was not in a good way. He was about to kick the door frame when he finally noticed Jean. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

His voice was a little hoarse, and a chill ran down Jean’s spine as he took all of it in. This was too personal, this was none of his business, and so why was he getting roped in again? 

“I was just about to report my departure to Hange-san—”

“Well, she’s obviously not here anymore,” the captain cut off in frustration, his eyes narrowing up at him. Jean didn’t like how he was seeing a new side to captain Levi, didn’t like seeing him so frustrated and lost. “Goddamnit what have I done…” he muttered to himself.

Jean could have just told him he was leaving. He could have just nodded and excused himself, headed straight to the stables, and made his way back to Trost. They would eventually forget about this incident as it would cool down, and all would be well. 

But Jean remembered the letters. He remembered those words. He remembered her tired, broken expression from days ago. Jean knew what it was like to be a leader — to have people look up to you and count on you. He knew how it felt to think you weren't good enough, to think you weren’t special and how people shouldn’t trust you because you lacked certain skills or that you weren’t perfect enough. He looked at the captain, stared right into those intimidating gray eyes, and felt a surge of confidence within him. 

“Captain, you know her better than anyone else,” Jean spoke, reiterating the Moblit Berner’s words, “What can I do to help her?”

The captain was slightly taken aback by Jean’s words. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “Why are you—”

“Because I care about her.” Jean said firmly, “And I respect her. And I want to help.”

Captain Levi simply stared at him. Jean would be lying if he said he didn’t feel awkward. They were still soldiers, after all. Captain Levi was still his superior officer, and having heart-to-heart conversations was something they didn’t essentially do. There wasn’t any room for sharing feelings — it opened up vulnerability and that was something you couldn’t have out in the field. Especially since the battlefield they now had was much wider than before. 

Jean was prepared to get shrugged off. He was prepared to leave without getting any answers. But the captain had sighed, fixed the cravat around his neck, and spoke softly: “Come inside.”

It was now Jean’s turn to be taken aback. Nevertheless, he followed the captain inside and was even more taken aback by the sight in front of him. 

The commander’s desk and seat were turned upside down, forcibly, he presumed, with books and papers scattered around it. He stopped in the middle of the room and heard the captain sigh as he closed the door behind him. “Help me fix this shit, Jean. I can’t have this lying around here.”

Jean didn’t ask any more questions. He already knew the answers as to how this had happened. He wanted to know why, of course, to satisfy his curiosity, but at the same time, he didn’t. He dropped his satchel on the floor and proceeded to pick up the scattered papers and books, making sure not to step on them as much as possible. The captain also did the same, kneeling down and gathering everything in his arms. Once they were finished, they placed everything on the corner of the room, underneath the right window, and started to turn the desk upright once more. Jean took one side, the captain taking the other, and together they lifted and placed it back where it had originally sat. After which, Jean took the chair and pushed it back against it while the captain took the books and paper and placed everything neatly the desk. They worked in silence the entire time — the friction from their fight or whatever had happened in here a few moments ago, still lingered and Jean was afraid to pierce through it. 

“I had served under two commanders,” the captain said suddenly as he filed through each piece of paper. Jean looked up and stared at him. “Shadis was alright — you already know most of his story anyway, but he was still a good leader. He had the drive, but still lacked some of the talents. And then Erwin came along…”

Captain Levi let out a deep sigh as he started inserting some of the papers in between the pages of a book. “Erwin... was a special man. He was one of the greatest assets to humanity. I don’t think I really need to tell you any more now, do I?”

He was right. Erwin Smith had been a special man. He was one of the greatest minds Jean had ever seen. He was an incredible strategist, an inspirational and respectable figure — all that and more. He had a feeling, however, that it wasn’t really about that. Jean was sure the captain just didn’t want to talk about him in general, at the moment. And really, who could blame him? Especially after what had happened on the rooftop? 

Jean shook his head and looked down. A few tense seconds passed before the captain continued: “He never made any miscalculations. We all had a feeling Hange would be next in line and we had been right. Hange was the only one who had stood up to him, the one to push forward ridiculous and extreme ideas that could have gotten all of us killed. She thought differently and wanted to look at things from a different perspective. Hange…” at this, Jean looked up to see the captain’s expression light up, “was always the best choice. All of us knew this. All of us but her.”

He sighed and started to mindlessly look through some of the books now. “It’s not easy, being in her position. She thinks she doesn’t deserve it. But she does. I’ve been with Hange for a long time now, Jean. I know you brats are there, but we’re the only ones who just… have each other left. She was there when I had first entered the Corps and had been with me ever since. But Erwin and Moblit? They had been with her way before I was ever in the picture.”

It was the first time he had mentioned the vice captain’s name, and Jean had to stop himself from thinking too much about the letters again. One would think he’d get over it at this point, but it was much harder than he thought. 

He continued once more: “Anyway, I’ve never been good with this shit, Jean. But you brats are just real nosey, huh?” he said, and Jean couldn’t tell if he was being serious or playful — maybe both. “The truth is, you being concerned and sticking your nose up to where it doesn’t belong is already helpful. You being here, following each command, and being the leader that you are is helpful. Just by staying alive, you’re already helpful. You, well, you’re already fucking helpful if you ask me. Hange knows this, and it may not look like it, but she’s thankful for all the little shit you and the brats do.”

It had taken him a few seconds to fully understand what the captain had meant, but he eventually did. Jean didn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting, but those words flowed through his heart and made him feel good inside. He didn’t realize he was already doing enough. He was just doing the bare minimum, wasn't he? But the captain had a point. If he continued to stay by their side, to stay by Hange-san’s side and follow her wherever she had lent them, then it could help erase the doubts she had regarding her position. Just by staying alive, he was helping her feel better. Just by being there for as long as possible — just like Moblit and Erwin, like captain Levi — was enough. 

But he also had a feeling that the captain didn’t want him, or any of his friends, to worry about their situation. He couldn’t explain it, but those were just the sort of parents did for their children. And though Jean would probably never admit it, Hange-san and the captain were quickly stepping up to be parental figures to them already. 

The captain finally took out a single piece of paper from the stacks and held it up slightly. Jean saw it had been the sketch of him and Hange-san, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 

“Vice-captain Moblit was really talented, wasn’t he?” Jean finally spoke up. The captain nodded in front of him and traced the outline of Hange-san’s smiling face on paper. 

Captain Levi’s lips twitched a little upright. “He really was.”

*******

Though the journey back home was a long and tedious one, Jean was grateful to have had the time to himself to ponder on his thoughts. Captain Levi ordered him, or was it a friendly suggestion? not to speak about this to Hange-san. He then parted to look for her which enabled Jean to finally leave. 

He thought a lot about the letters, about the myth Hange-san had told him days ago, about the captain’s words, and even about the late commander Erwin.

The sun was setting when he had arrived home. As he passed through the neighborhood he grew up in, he couldn't help but feel both excited and terrified. The threat of the titans was now over, right? But now they were facing an even bigger menace. Would his home be safe? Would the people they had fought so long to protect inside the walls be safe? 

“Jean-boy!”

He turned and saw her face. She stood at the front of their house which surprisingly looked the same after all this time. She was excitedly waving her hand, and once he got closer, he saw that tears were falling from her eyes. Once he stopped in front of her, he quickly dismounted his horse and enveloped him in her arms. 

“You’ve grown so big! Oh my boy!” she exclaimed, clutching the back of his shirt and pressing her face against his chest. Jean hugged her back eagerly and tried his best not to let his emotions take over. But it had been a long couple of days. His body still ached from the battle, his brain was consumed by too many thoughts, and his heart still grieved the lives of all of the people they had lost. He couldn’t believe he had taken her warmth and comfort for granted so many times. Who did he think he was, trying to shove her out of his life because he didn’t want to be embarrassed? 

“I’m home, mom,” he said, finally closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. She laughed happily before disentangling herself a little, looking up at him to study his face. Her eyes were watery, the lines around them having deepened. Her hair also started to have gray streaks and Jean felt his heart ache at the sight of her much older form. “I have your favorite already waiting for you in the kitchen. I also cleaned your room so you better change and wash up before we eat dinner, alright? I’m so glad you’re here my Jean-boy.” she said, hugging him again. 

He truly was home. 

*******

A wave of nostalgia hit him the moment he had entered his childhood room. True to her word, everything was neat and tidy. His bed was made, desk free of any clutter, and the window was left a little open to let some of the breezes go in. He exhaled, closing the door behind him and moving to lay on his bed. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted and wanted nothing more now than to close his eyes and sleep. He wondered what the others were doing at this very moment. They had been through together so much that it felt weird not to have any of them near him. It was probably the first time in a long time he was going to sleep in his bed, in his own room, without anyone else around. Letting out a deep sigh, he willed himself to stand up, grab the satchel he had brought with him, and place the contents atop his desk. 

As he rummaged through his things, he wondered if there was something he still could do for Hange-san. Though he took the captain’s words to heart, he couldn’t help but feel like doing something for her either way. Something that wasn’t too outrageous that would give her the wrong idea. Something that he himself would do, something that was uniquely his. Afterall, the captain said that just by doing what he did, he would be able to help. He eventually found his answer when he opened one of the drawers of his desk and found his old sketches and art supplies from long ago.

He immediately stopped what he was doing and gingerly took out his old artworks. The passion he felt was still there, tingling the back of his neck as he stared at the portrait of the woman he had seen in his dreams. His lips tightened as he realized that the woman he had drawn resembled Mikasa so much. He really only had eyes for her from the very beginning, huh? Shaking his head, he looked through some of his old work and realized then and there exactly what he needed to do. 

He may not be as good as the vice-captain, but it was the least he could do. Besides, maybe once he went through with this little project, he would finally be able to release all his thoughts about this matter. He was relieved to see there was still some paper and pencils left. Nodding his head, he closed the window, placed the papers back down, and proceeded to change into a cleaner and much more comfortable shirt. He’ll have time to do this later after dinner. But for now, there some much-needed time to be spent with his family. 

*******

He found himself back in front of the commander’s office once again, days later. This time, he carried with him two scrolls of paper. He stopped and listened intently, making sure no one was arguing behind the doors before knocking. 

He let himself in the moment he heard Hange-san’s voice. She was seated behind her desk, finally sporting a dark patch on her injured eye. “Ah, welcome back, Jean. Did you need anything from me?” she asked as Jean closed the door behind him. 

“I just came by to drop some things off for you, Hange-san,” he spoke lightly, feeling incredibly nervous. He scratched the back of his head as he approached her quietly. 

She looked so much better this time around. She had discarded her military coat and her bolo tie was tied securely around her neck for the world to see. Her glasses were impeccably clean and gleamed when she looked up at him, her hair nicely framing her face. She seemed much more relaxed, and it didn’t feel like when she was going through meetings and such where she acted fine. This time, she actually did look genuinely alright and at peace. 

Jean wondered how she and the captain had spent those three days. He had a feeling, once again, that they had spent it together. He could tell that the captain had something to do with the improved state she was currently in. Either way, Jean was happy to see her like this. 

“I… had seen vice-captain Moblit’s sketches,” Jean started right off at the bat, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of this than it already was. He saw more than the sketches, of course, but she didn’t need to know that. The commander didn’t look upset or surprised, which made Jean continue: “And I had been sort of an artist too, you see, but obviously not as good as him.”

He carefully handed her the two scrolls of paper, and she raised an eyebrow before taking it from his grasp. “When I returned home and saw my old work, I realized that I wanted to do something for you, Hange-san. No one put me up to this, and I hope, for my sake, you don’t tell the others.”

He added that last part, a light blush dusting his cheeks. If any of his friends found out about his old hobby, they would tease him to no end and demand to see some of his old work. 

She carefully inspected the two scrolls before putting down the second one and gingerly opening the first. She gasped, her hand flying straight to her mouth as she looked on and stared at the portrait in front of her. 

“Oh Jean…” she said, her voice cracking with emotion, “I can’t believe you did this.”

Jean had a pretty good memory of things. He remembered the vice captain’s worried, concerned face. He remembered the former commander’s authoritative expression. And of course, how could he forget captain Levi’s tiny smirk or Hange-san’s bright eyes?

It felt awkward, putting those visions on paper. He felt his heart clench at the sight of his portraits. But he powered through, and Hange-san’s expression made it all worth it. 

She traced her fingers over the etched lines. She lingered, he noticed, over commander Erwin’s and vice-captain Moblit’s face. She smiled and laughed brightly as tears now streamed from her remaining eye. Jean had drawn them all together, side by side, arms around one another. It had been a product of his imagination, but he had to admit it wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

“Why? How?” she said, her voice breaking. She placed down the paper and gently removed her glasses to wipe some of the tears from her face. 

Jean looked down and shuffled his feet, “He never really had any portraits of all of you together. I thought well, that shouldn’t be the case.”

“Do I even want to know what’s in the other one?” she said teasingly before clearing her throat and putting her glasses back on. Her smile was absolutely infectious, and Jean was happy it was seemingly etched permanently onto her face. 

“I think you do,” he said, clearing his throat as well. That particular portrait was the first one he had finished, and he loved how it had turned out. He was also grateful for the creative outlet. He had to admit, he missed indulging in these kinds of things. Who knew when the next time he’d be able to do something like this again? 

Hange-san laughed — a bright and beautiful melody that continued to light up the room. She shifted her attention to the unopened scroll, picked it up, and proceeded to unroll it. However, unlike the first one, she remained silent, her eyes widening at the sight. A few minutes had passed before she pursed her lips, her fingers shaking a little, before rolling it back up and setting it back down on her desk. She studied Jean carefully, and he could tell that perhaps she was picking up on the idea that he may have read those letters. Nevertheless, she stood up, shook her head, and quickly strolled to him and hugged him. 

“Thank you, Jean,” she said after a few seconds, and Jean allowed himself to snake his hands behind her and hug her back. He closed his eyes and a small part of him reprimanded himself for being so soft, for sticking his nose into other people’s business, for doing all of these rather embarrassing things. But life was short. He needed to express his feelings to others before it was too late. He needed to tell people he cared about them before it was too late. He felt the magnitude of her gratitude from those small, common words. From the way she had tightly clutched the back of his shirt. They pulled away — the hug being a rather brief and short thing, just as captain Levi entered the room. 

“What are you two doing?” he asked, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms. Jean turned around to see a curious and wary expression on his face. Hange-san laughed behind him, and Jean then and there witnessed how the captain softened at the sound. His shoulders relaxed, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes gleamed in wonder. 

“Nothing,” Hange-san sang as she approached him. “Are you ready to go?”

“The horses are already waiting for us,” the captain said gruffly, but Jean could tell he was pleasantly surprised by the commander’s tone and attitude. “What are you and Jean—”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?” she spoke heartily, moving to grab her civilian coat from the coat stand by the door. “We’ll be meeting with some of the press, alright Jean? We’ll be back later tonight. I believe Levi over here is planning on cooking for everyone.”

“Oi! That was supposed to be a secret!” the captain exclaimed, his eyes sneering at her. Hange-san shrugged before approaching Jean and laying a hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him once again which Jean reciprocated. She whispered another “thank you” before patting his head affectionately. “Please don’t tell the others, Hange-san,” he spoke quietly, only for her to hear. 

“I won’t.” she assured, “But you have to know that I can’t keep anything from this grump right here,” she said, her head tilting towards the captain’s direction. 

“What are you idiots talking about?” the captain eyed suspiciously, moving to approach them. 

“I know.” Jean scoffed, his eyes gleaming. Hange-san nodded before swiftly looping her arm around the captain’s and dragging him out the room. “Come on! We’re going to be late!”

Jean followed them out the door and saw their figures moving down the hallway. Captain Levi stopped her suddenly as if asking her once again what she and Jean had been doing. The commander laughed before patting his head affectionately which then made the captain gently kick her leg. He then started to inspect her coat, straightening it out before buttoning the front. Jean shook his head at the soft and sweet gesture in front of him. He looked back inside the office to where the drawings he had and quietly went back in and approached the desk. 

He carefully lifted the second scroll and opened it. He didn’t really know what kind of reaction he was expecting from Hange-san, but so far she didn’t really give away anything obvious. He was certain that she had read those letters. But it felt as if she just wanted to move on from them, and thinking about it, that would be the best course of action wasn’t it? 

He stared at the portrait. They weren’t really close by any standards. Thinking about it, they probably just had two or three conversations the entire time Jean had known him. But his utter devotion was enough to catch anyone’s attention. Jean hoped he was able to catch them and had translated it properly on paper. There were hundreds of sketches of Hange-san and everyone else, but there weren’t any of just them together. He had drawn him the way he knew him — face scrunched up in concern as he looked onto her. He had a hand placed on her shoulder, and Hange-san was laughing at whoever was in front of her. 

Slowly, with his other hand that wasn’t holding the portrait, Jean placed a fist over his heart in a salute. 

Thank you for dedicating your heart. 

 *******

Dear Buntaichou, 

I’ve decided to start writing to you like this in the event I should get a heart attack and die from your irresponsibility. I also needed to let out my frustration through a healthy matter. I really don’t understand as to why you would charge headfirst into a forest, all by yourself, and try to capture a titan. How you managed to get away with screaming at the commander and still having all your limbs attached today is a miracle. I’m glad Captain Levi and his squad were able to intervene and help stop you from getting eaten. I’m glad you’re okay. At this time, you’re currently locked in your room, devouring whatever is inside the notebook you found. Maybe you’ll finally be able to convince commander Erwin with your discoveries? Still, you could have died. No matter how much I try to stop you, you always try and go at it, huh?

That was so very stupid of you. How are you so brilliant and stupid at the same time? 

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou, 

DID YOU REALLY ALMOST FALL OFF THE WALL?! I’m so glad my grandmother forbade me to curse because I would have exclaimed a variety of colorful language at you during that entire situation. 

It was our first test run of your titan capturing method, and all would have been well if you weren’t leaning too far and, I don’t know, SLIPPED? 

It was a good thing captain Levi had incredible reflexes and had gotten to you just in time. He seems very attuned to whenever you put yourself in danger, isn’t he? I could have sworn he was just waiting for something bad to happen. I also could have sworn I was going to get a heart attack then and there. 

Why are you so reckless and stupid? Great, now I feel bad for calling you that. But hey, I need to let it out, okay? Don’t take it personally. But then again, captain Levi pretty much calls you that daily and you seem to find it endearing. 

I’m also so worried about when we start experimenting on titans. By the walls, you’re not going to make it easy for me, are you? Just please don’t die. 

—   Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou, 

I knew you weren’t going to make things easy for me. I have to admit, you giving names to those titans was pretty strange — but it was still rather cute. Only if you weren’t going crazy about it. 

I feel like I say that as if it’s a new thing. But then again, back in our training days, you were relatively calm. You always indulge yourself in books and go out of your way to try and learn new things. Those were nice and calm days, weren’t they? You’ve always piqued my interest from the very beginning especially since you were the only one who pronounced our instructor’s name wrong. 

Why am I bringing this up? Anyway, if this is the last letter you read it means that I was eaten by Albert or whoever that other titan was. We can’t afford to lose you, you know? That’s one of the things I’ve learned so far anyway. That some lives in the Survey Corps matter more than the others, and I would gladly get eaten by a titan if it means you’d live another day.

I don’t mean to make you feel guilty or anything of the sort. This is just how I feel. 

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou, 

How do you do it? It seems you’re the only person (besides commander Erwin, well, it’s a given) who has full control over captain Levi. You’ve managed to persuade him to capture a titan for you, and though he complained about it, he still did it anyway. 

Since you’ll never get these letters while I’m still alive, I can probably be as honest as possible. 

I think that he has feelings for you. 

Now, I hope by the time you read this, he’s made it obvious to you by then. And I know it seems like a stretch, cause well, he’s captain Levi and everything and he doesn’t seem like he’s capable of those types of emotions, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. 

I think it started when you ran off to the forest and he followed you. I read the reports of what had happened, and it seemed he was really shaken. We also work a lot with their squad, so there’s a lot of room for things to blossom then I suppose. 

I know I sound incredibly foolish. And I’m telling you right now, I’m completely sober as I write this. But it’s just something I can tell, something that doesn’t seem too far-fetched. He cares about you a lot. 

Now I need a drink. I don’t know what’s going on with me. 

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

I think you have feelings for captain Levi. 

This is an even more outrageous claim than the one in my previous entry, and because I’m always glued to your side, I feel like I know more than others do. 

It’s been a while since I wrote my thoughts on here. It’s been a rough couple of days? Weeks? I forgot. So much has happened. I don’t want to delve too much into the details but essentially, we had engaged with the female titan outside the walls, then inside Stohess district, then the armored and colossal titan. I also finished investigating Ragako — Connie Springer’s village. I haven’t had enough rest these days. A lot of us haven’t. And though I feel incredibly exhausted and want to make use of these couple of days of peace before we head onto Trost, I felt like jotting some of the things I had witnessed between you and the captain.

I know this is really silly of me. But forgive me again, this is the only outlet I have. Don’t worry, I’ve already jotted down the important findings in the middle pages of this journal/sketchbook. But I’m starting to feel things myself. Feelings I didn’t know I could feel either. 

Anyway, you had visited him when he was still in the hospital, getting some treatment for his injured leg. You had dismissed me that day, saying you were going to him. 

I also had caught you lending him one of your jackets. And though he had protested, he still eagerly wore it. 

Not to mention the number of times I had caught you making tea for him. How did I know? Well, no one else touched the tin of black tea in the mess hall but Captain Levi. So it had been an easy assumption. 

There are a lot more instances, but I can’t seem to bring myself to put them on paper. I don’t know why — maybe there are just too many, maybe I just don’t want to recall them. I think maybe both. 

Either way, it seems as if you two have feelings for one another now. I’m glad. I’m also glad that you’re okay, that you’re alive, that you’re still here. Hopefully, that will continue to last long. 

—  Moblit

*******

Dear Hange-san, 

I think… that this will be my last letter. 

I know it’s been a long time since I last updated this series of letters (we haven’t exactly had a lot of free time) and as we are preparing to return to Shiganshina, I felt the need to address everything here and now. Seeing as there’s a high probability I might not make it back. 

The moment I first met you back when we were cadets in the Training Corps, you had captured my attention almost immediately. Your hair had been way shorter back then so there wasn’t any need to tie it up into a ponytail. Other than that, your eyes always remained bright, your laugh was always infectious. When you had told me back then how you wanted to see the world beyond the walls, I had thought you to be crazy. My family had always wanted me to enlist in the Garrison, especially since I had a lot of relatives there. But the moment you started talking about what life could be like, about different plants and trees, about different types of animals — the way you had smiled up at me and used your hands excessively to discuss your points  —  I knew then and there that I would follow you wherever you went. 

Going into the Survey Corps was absolutely terrifying. But being with you, helping you, and staying by your side had made it worth it. 

The amount of times you almost died, the amount of times you had put yourself in danger is just too much to count. The number of times you had made me worried  —  well, let’s just say I’m glad my heart didn’t suffer any complications. Or maybe it has and I just don’t know. 

Seriously, you’re too reckless sometimes, you know? But I can’t help but admire you still. You do it because you desire to change because you want to understand our natural enemies. You’re the only one I’ve met who thinks that way, and people have mentioned more than once that you’re really crazy, and perhaps they’re right, but you’re also the most brilliant of all of them combined. 

And because of this, you have captured my heart. 

I’m sure there are more reasons, but I can’t find it in me to talk about all of them. I don’t know why this happened, how this happened, or if I was too obvious. But knowing you, you probably wouldn’t know if someone had romantic feelings for you even if it hit you straight in the face. After all, this is exactly what’s going on between you and captain Levi. 

I know for certain now that he loves you. I had a hunch before, but I know now. I could tell by the nicknames he gave you, from how angry he was when you fell during our battle, how he went to visit you, multiple times, after that incident. How when he sees me alone in the corridor or something, he always asks about you. How in every mission we go, he always looks at you, as if he’s engraving your image into his memory should one of you not make it. How he captured a titan for you. How he knows how you take your tea and how he always goes to your side for comfort. How he basically forces you to take a bath. How he just knows you and understands your entirety as a human being. 

It all makes sense now. I suppose, if you didn’t pay attention much to it, you’d think it was something else entirely. Just a comrade looking out for another comrade. But his eyes, oh his eyes always say otherwise. He loves you and I hope by the time you read this, you’re well aware of that fact. 

And I also hope you’re well aware that you love him too. 

I could tell by how you tease him almost to no end. By how you always talk about him, either positively or negatively. How you just know when he's around as if you have a keen sense just for him. How you translate his words for others (he’s not very good at those). How even when he’s fuming angry or irritated, you seem to be the only one who can get him to calm down. How you had visited him multiples times after his injury. How you just knew all that information about him living with Kenny the Ripper as if you two had discussed the life he had led before. How you know exactly how he takes his tea. How you always make it a point to celebrate his birthday despite our lack of funds. How you just know him and trust him so well. 

You love him, Hange-san. You love him so much. Dare I say you love him as equally if not more as your titans and your research. What you two have is something so special I doubt anyone inside the walls has the same kind of bond. 

I wanted that with you. 

You both deserve happiness together. But I know that’s not possible. Especially with the world we live in. 

I just wanted you to know this before it’s too late. I want you to know that should I never come back by your side, that you always have him. That he treasures you. Perhaps… even more than I do.

Enclosed in this journal are all the findings in research we collected through the years. And so are these letters. And so are some… portraits I had done myself. I hope you like them. 

If you’re reading this, then that means you have survived and may or may not be the new commander. Hange-san, I hope you remember that you are life itself, that you are so brilliant and amazing, and that you continue to give others an inexpressible joy. You have enriched my life (despite almost killing me multiple times). I know you will do a fantastic job as commander. That’s because, well, you’re you. You’re Hange. I wish I could elaborate more but it is what it is. 

There’s so much more I want to say. So much more I want to tell you. But there isn’t any time nor can I bring myself to put any of it on paper. You also should be expecting me on the training grounds in a couple of minutes from now to continue Eren’s experiments. So I suppose, I’ll just leave you with this:

    … I love you. 

  Sincerely, Moblit Berner. 

[inforapound]

Ease The Dawn Pt.2 Chapter 5

A/N - Thank you for reading and for all of your encouragement. 

Warnings - slight angst

Words - 2,800

The slaves were shuffled through the hall doors and forced to stand in a line for inspection. The worried eyes of the disheveled bunch scanned about the hall, nervously assessing their new home. Their eyes seemed to search for evidence, anything, that might provide insight into the next stage of their torment. Would it be better or worse from anywhere else but more importantly, most wondered, would they survive?

The threatening orders of a wiry man with a scruffy, yellowing beard jostled their attention back to Aethelswith. Waiting, she stood at the base of the stairs in front of the thrones. Despising the entire process, she held back a grimace as she walked toward them. The fear and uncertainty in their eyes made her feel ill, as did the smell of the grimy little man peddling their flesh. There was nothing about people being tethered like animals that would ever feel acceptable but she had been tasked with finding more slaves for the hall.

Behind her, leaning on the arm of his throne, Ivar had already found the petite woman with hair so fair it shone nearly white. Not quite as small as Aethelswith, she possessed all the characteristics of a Viking. Straight nose and deep blue eyes with her uncut, long hair braided down one side of her face. Her hands looked unworked and Ivar noticed that her plain beige dress remained untattered with no signs of the filth on her fair skin that covered the others in line.

The man clutched the girl's upper arm and pulled her forward for Aethelswith to appraise.

"This is the girl you spoke of? Who speaks my language?" Aethelswith asked, waiting for the translator to finish relaying her words.

"Yes," came the reply.

The slaver rasped on in Norse, looking like he was taking great care to speak as politely as someone like him could.

"This one worked as a slave to the wife of Jarl Henriksson," the translator continued. "His wife was Saxon, like you my queen."

Not correcting the translator, she was unsure if the error in her title had been his or the slaver's. She did not want to engage any more than necessary and would never deny being queen with Ivar perched above, surveying them all.

"What is your name?" Aethelswith asked the pretty girl with the slight smile.

Dipping her head, she bowed. "Freydis, my Lady."

—-

Believing that Ivar would be first to lose his resolve had been a mistake. Sitting alone in their chambre, Aethelswith was haunted by his ultimatum, not at all the iron force behind the standoff. He was distancing himself and it wounded her deeply, forcing her eyes open to the strength of their enmeshment. Ivar, had always being the one urgent to make love, and it had been a distraction from her own need for him.

For two weeks since his return from England, she had endured his punishment. Surviving only on the two chaste kisses he gave her each day; before leaving their chambre in the morning and when the candles were blown out at night and his lips never lingered. What a brilliant strategist her beloved was.

Sitting at her desk now, in their guarded room, she rested her elbows on their worktable, missing for his affection. To his men, the thralls or visitors in the hall, his behaviour would have seemed unchanged. Still attentive and protective, always holding her hand when sitting side by side on their thrones. Yet, she could feel the space in every exchange, his thumb no longer stroked circles on the back of her hand and he rarely made eye contact.

It had been some time since he had asked about her day or what she was learning in her lessons. He had stopped altogether asking her opinion on various matters regarding the city. Before this draw, Ivar was compulsive about knowing what was on her mind. Persistently asking what she was thinking. At times, his questions made her brain feel scrubbed as if she had just been interrogated. She always answered with patience as she understood it was beyond his control. He agonized when they were apart, and despite her assurance, she knew deep down, he feared she would one day leave.

Through this process of standing their ground, what ate her alive more than anything, was how bright his smile was when she entered a room only for realization to strike and the brightness to fade. As if his adoration was a flame being snuffed out by his ultimatum.  

When the sun would set and night would come, he would lie in bed and pretend not to miss her. If it had not been so sad, she would have laughed as Ivar was not a man who could feign indifference. His mood was as loud as thunder.

Keeping to his side of the bed, he would look up into the darkness and the silence would ring in her ears, only broken by his uttering a quiet goodnight. She felt alone, more so than when she had been, all those weeks, on her own.

Refusing to turn her back to him, she would sleep on her side, curled up like a child. As always, stretch her cold feet forward, slipping one under his lower back and resting the other on his stomach. Despite the impasse, she was grateful that he would still take her foot is his strong, warm hand, holding it, as he always had, while they drifted off to sleep.

But still.... it had been six weeks since they last made love and each night, she had to stop herself from crawling to his side. There was little point unless she was ready to acquiesce and she was not. Could not. What would their life look like if he would not value the few things she held dear.

Adjusting in her chair, she forced her jaw to unclench and picked up a smooth piece of charcoal. It was early afternoon and she had not yet seen her king,; some meeting regarding the wall had forced him up early and he had slipped out without waking her. She prayed this was not be a new habit.

Having no interest in eating in the hall alone, she requested a tray to be brought to their chambre. Not outright disliking her new thrall, she was yet to warm to her. Regardless, Freydis' sweet smile and tray of honeyed oats and mixed fruit, along with her customary cup of milk were welcome on that lonesome day. The fair-haired girl always arrived with a bright face and a fresh vase of white flowers. She was a nosey little thing, always asking questions and sharing her many observations on the weather and the comings and goings of people in the hall.

Rolling the charcoal in her hand, the pads of her fingers grew dark with soot. She had missed the feel of it against her skin having barely sketched since arriving. Instead, she preferred being out in the market or practicing Norse with Brana, often while picking berries or strolling down the shoreline. Armoured men with blades ready always tailing them not far behind. Brana, aside from Ivar, was her anchor and the truest friend she had ever had.

Always, at the start of each week, she visited Gussr and his wife Nanna. Gussr had aged terribly in the time since England, barely mobile and never properly healing from his injuries of that morning. Nanna possessed the same spirit has him; patient, warm and always delighted by her presence. Aethelswith would often bring them small gifts and sweets or sought-after supplies that they would have never spent what little money they had on. She loved them dearly and knew they felt the same. In the camp, Gussr had been her chaperone but became so much more, showing her compassion and support with the slightest of smiles and a paternal ease that allowed them to sit in comfortable silence for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. At the time, she knew that had Ivar decided to harm her, no one could have stopped him but the fact that Gussr would have wanted to brought her comfort. Now they shared a connection that could never be severed.

The remaining hours of the day Aethelswith spent at Ivar's side, in their chairs in the great hall, while he heard and settled town disputes. As of late, he was closing the doors turning away those who had arrived to complain.

Looking down at her blank parchment, she searched her mind for inspiration, but all was dark besides images of him; his lips on the skin of her throat or taking her nipple in his mouth, his hands running up her thighs and squeezing her behind, grinding her down on top of him. His beautiful face looking up at her, his gaze teaming with love. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head back allowing the warmth of her thoughts to roll up her spine. With a frustrated sigh, she rose from her chair and walked toward the door. Enough was enough, she was going to find her king.

—

The training grounds were nearly empty and the sun was now less intense but the feast was still many hours away. Standing just into the clearing, she watched Hvitserk spar with another man she did not know the name of. He was a regular in the hall but never talked with her or returned a passing smile. None of them did. They were either disgusted she was a Christian or feared the wrath of the king. Being no fool, she knew it was likely both.

Swaying and ducking, Hvitserk cut the air, tapping his opponent with the flat side of his blade. Spinning on a heel, rolling his torso, he dipped forward, avoiding contact with the other sword. Lean and strong, his movements were fluid, the most graceful fighter she had ever seen. She would offer him the compliment but felt her praise would be unwelcome or met with a cool remark. Why bother?

The sparing broke and Hvitserk turned in her direction, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Are you lost, princess?"

Fighting the urge to cringe, she smiled ignoring the condescension in his voice.

"I am looking for Ivar."

"I did not think you were here to see me."

Tilting her head to the side, she studied his green eyes. "Have I offended you?"

Startled by her question, Hvitserk's smirk faded. "No."

"A deaf man with no sight could detect your disdain," she looked at him evenly.

Sheathing his sword, he rested his hands on his hips, mouth open as if still deciding how to reply.

"It is your effect on my brother," he finally said. "This game you are playing, declaring yourself still married."

"That is between Ivar and me."

"Is it?" his eyebrows spiked. "Do you have any idea what he was like in England?" Running his hand over his pulled back hair, he glanced behind him before looking at her again. "He was crazed. He was a mad man. The death and torture he left in his wake." Shaking his head, he stared at her. "He slaughtered countless people. Slaughtered Aethelswith. Many were obviously telling the truth that they did not know the whereabouts of Burgred." He dropped the volume of his voice. "Look, seeing Christians cut down will never break my heart but this was....." he shook his head, "even his own men were doubting his sanity. Now that he feels rejected by you his cruelty grows with his need to prove himself. Save face as a king whose woman has yet to marry him. But...I see it in his eyes when he is with you. You make him feel like a God. A God!" Hvitserk repeated.

Squeezing her clenched hands, she could barely hear his words, imagining a blood-soaked Ivar terrorizing crowds of innocent people, rolling through villages on his chariot, with frenzied eyes and his mouth gaping wide, an ax high overhead, leaving behind only death. Closing her eyes, she shuddered, knowing what he said was the truth.

Stepping forward, Hvitserk bent down, grabbing his water skin off the ground. Looking at her, he took a long drink before corking it and tucking it under his arm.

"Ivar went to the barn with Loni to see how the new wheels were coming along for his chariot. Following, they were heading to the hall to check on the preparations. Finehair's fleet is already in the harbour and tonight Ivar will be receiving him for the first time as king."

Nodding, she kept her gaze down on the trampled grass.

Moving past her, he headed for the trail. "You be careful Aethelswith."

Spinning around, she spoke to his back. "Ivar would never hurt me."

"If you say so," he called back, not looking in her direction.

—-

Aethelswith entered the hall to find Ivar in his chair talking with Loni and another man she knew as Raud. They sat casually on the steps in front of him all nursing a horn of ale. Loni seemed to be recounting a story from battle as he whipped his arm through the air in an animated gesture as if delivering a fatal blow. Raud was smiling and nodding and Ivar drank from his cup, listing while staring at the floor.

As if sensing her arrival, he looked up to the large doors. Sweet recognition flickered in his eyes and he smiled before his face again turned sour and void of emotion. Regardless, she made her way toward him.

"Where are your guards!" he lashed out, his voice echoing through the hall.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she stood in place as if she was a commoner there for a reprimand. Cocking his head to one side, he squinted, unsure of her lack of reaction.

"I decided to walk up to the training grounds and did not want the fuss of an entourage."

"The training grounds? Through the forest? Aethelswith!" he barked. "Are you daft or just outright disregarding me now?" Squeezing his horn, he leaned forward in his chair. "I have told you to have at least two guards with you at all times!"

Raud looked away and Loni gazed into his own cup pretending not to notice the tension and silence filling the hall. With a neutral face, she stared back at him, never wavering despite the feeling of her insides being torn out.

He raised his finger and pointed at her.

"Do not ignore me again."

Continuing to hold his glare, she controlled her emotions. She knew this man and how to navigate his storms.

"I went looking for you," she said in a steady tone. All eyes were on her and she would not appear broken.

"You did?" Surprise sounded in his voice as he could not recall her ever seeking him out, never wanting to disturb his work.

"Yes, I felt an odd pain in my chest," she replied softly.

"Are you unwell? he straightened in his chair, his eyes looking sincere.

"It was a pang in my heart."

Leaning forward, Ivar's brow creased.

"I realized I was missing you," she smiled. "You left early this morning and I have not felt your kiss today."

Freezing for an instant, his expression melted and his lips pulled back into a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkled as he reached toward her.

"Aethelswith, come to me," he nearly whimpered.

Climbing the steps toward his outstretched hand, she could not help but mirror his expression. Loni and Raud rushed to clear the stairs making their way elsewhere.

Pulling her into his lap, Ivar wrapped his arms around her, bringing his face close to hers. Grabbing the cup from his hand, she took a deep drink of his mead turning his smile into a grin. Closing the small space between, he kissed her gently, delicately and with love. Pulling back to speak, she stopped looking at his sold face, eyes still closed as if he was savoring the feel of her mouth. Opening his eyes, tension crept back into his expression.

"My sweet," he kissed her one more time, "please do not leave the hall on your own. Tell me if you want to come and watch the training and I will take you up on my chariot." Pausing, he looked up into her light blue eyes. "I love you, Aethelswith. I react because of how important you are. I would die before I would allow anything to ever happen to you."

Placing her small hand on his chiseled cheek, she kissed him again, mewing at how she had missed his warm lips and the taste of ale on his tongue. As their kiss deepened, the description of Ivar's savagery flickered in her mind; blood and sharp teeth, ripped apart bodies rotting. Ivar's tongue swirling against hers was too great a distraction, his hot breath and needy hands pulling her harder to him. She should have been horrified and repulsed but his sweet mouth breathing her in, after so long, felt like heaven.

.

@youbloodymadgenius​ @naaladareia​ @whenimaunicorn​ @lol-haha-joke​ @ceridwenofwales​ @youbelongeverywhere​ @jaydelesley4​ @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @sweeneythots​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @fangirl-nonsense​ @thiahilmarsdottir​ @redama​ @mdredwine​ @didiintheblog​ @yourpurplequeen​ @justanothershelby​ @londongal2810​ @fields-and-fields-of-poppies​ @readsalot73​ @hexqueensupreme​ @silly-bullshit-collector​ @littlecarolina94​

[pax-2735]

Fanfic: The moment I knew (3/7)

Day 3 of the ‘Jonsa: a dream of spring’ celebration, with @jonsadreamofspring 

Prompts for day 3: Winterfell /Essos /Beyond the Wall

Summary:  Post series finale, canon divergence. Daenerys is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Sansa has to face the consequences.

The Broken Compass

Sansa flees north, as that seems to be all she knows.

She treks her way across snowy plains and nearly frozen riverbanks, her hands bleeding as she crawls over step slopes and high inclines, scratching her legs as she looks for shelter for the night inside tiny caves, not big enough to house any animals that could hurt her further. She has lived this before, this nightmare of ice and dread where home no longer means safety, where Winterfell doesn’t stand for warm beds and hearty meals and soft touches.

She shivers as she pulls her knees closer to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She feels so cold, but she doesn’t know whether it is from the icy ringlets of water coating her tattered dress or merely from sheer desperation.

She barely sleeps, her body too exhausted to allow herself more than a brief moment of rest. Still, when she closes her eyes she dreams. Visions of giant flapping wings and a beautiful queen, of blackened stone walls and the endless screaming of the dying. In her dreams she sees Winterfell, burning under the scorching heat of dragon fire.

She is up again and moving as soon as the first rays of light flitter across the morning sky. North, she thinks, always north.

                                                          ***

The journey to Castle Black seems to take longer than she remembers and, once there, nothing is as she remembers.

The Night’s Watch is no more, their purpose utterly defeated by Jon’s past actions. The army of the dead is gone, and there seems to be a somewhat peaceful coexisting with the Wildlings now. The few men who remain have little duties and have forgotten their vows, turning the courtyard of the once gloomy fortress into a lively mixture of scurrying wives and laughing children.

Still, they are friendly towards her. She presents herself as Alayne Stone, a bastard from the Vale venturing up into the North, and the lies come easily enough that no one suspects her true identity. They offer her a bed and some warm furs, and that’s all she can ask for.

As the days turn and go she keeps mostly to herself, despite the women’s best efforts to strike up a conversation, eager for new stories they can share during the long nights spent out here on the edge of the world. She indulges them with stories from her time in the Vale but not much else.

She resorts back to her old ways, survival strategies she had been forced to learn since the time her family was taken from her and she had to fend for herself. Mostly, she listens, picking up on random pieces of information and wayward conversations to determine her next course of action.

Still, as days wander by and nothing happens, it’s difficult not to indulge in the growing sense of safety that nestles inside her heart. She fears it won’t last but still, she hopes.

                                                          ***

It takes almost two turns of the moon for her peace to shatter.

The courtyard is in uproar as two riders come through the gates, bearing news from the south, and Sansa approaches them with as much curiosity as everyone else. Her face is puzzled even as her heart hammers in her chest as scattered pieces of conversation start drifting towards her.

“They are in Winterfell – “

“There’s thousands – “

“The Queen wants this over – “

“They burned it –“

She grabs a passing man and pulls him to her, no hint of an apology on her lips. “What are they saying? What news do they bring?”

The man looks her over with a leer and Sansa bristles, dropping her hands to her sides. He doesn’t seem too happy with that. “What does it matter to you?”

Her voice grows hard as her temper flails. “What news do they bring from the south?”

“I might be forthcoming with information, depending on the reward.” He’s staring, and she can feel his eyes travelling over her body, his face doing little to hide his thoughts. It sickens her, the way it always comes down to this. Her hand drops to the folds of her skirts and she pulls out her dagger – a ragged looking thing, with blunt edges and a rusty pommel, but still more than enough to do some damage.

He seems to think so as well as he takes a step back, looking her over once more before finally deciding she’s not worth it and scurrying away. She’s left torn between joining the fast growing crowd or fleeing the scene entirely but she settles for something in between.

                                                        ***

“The Queen sent the Unsullied there, and they have taken over the Keep,” a woman says in awe.

“I heard it doesn’t exist anymore, she burnt it,” another voice answers.

“How could she have burned it?”

“The dragons.” There’s a scuffling sound and several voices talking at the same time before the first one speaks again. “Winterfell is gone, I tell you.”

“What about the Starks?”

There’s silence before someone mutters darkly, “There are no Starks left. They’re all gone.”

“There’s the Lady of Winterfell,” someone adds, in a gentler tone, and several voices agree.

“You think the Queen sent her armies here for what? Tell her what a good job she’s been doing?” There are frowns on several of the faces but no one dares dispute it. “If she’s not dead already, she soon will be.”

“What about her brother? The one who sits with the Queen?” The owner of the voice, a young boy with shinning eyes, seems to shrink under the stares of the older men, his voice barely above a whisper as he adds timidly, “Wouldn’t he do something, if any of that is true?”

A beat of silence seems to fill the air before another nameless voice answers. “He’s not her brother.”

Sansa steps away from her carefully hidden spot amongst the shadows, her feet treading lightly upon the freshly fallen snow so as to not alert anyone of her presence. Her mind is swirling, her thoughts straying down the path she has carefully avoided since fleeing the Keep.

Jon isn’t her brother. Jon is in King’s Landing with the Queen. Jon hasn’t stopped her.

There’s a man standing next to the old worn down elevator that leads up to the top of the Wall. He seems to be sleeping, his head falling downwards against his chest, but as she tries to side step him he looks up accusingly.

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He doesn’t answer her, his dark eyes appraising her before nodding his head towards the elevator in a silent question. She has no reason to trust this man besides her own weariness but still, she finds her feet leading her inside before she can question herself.

The journey up is made in silence, his weathered hands working the ancient machinery with practiced ease. She keeps a careful watch on him, but that is forgotten once they reach the top, her eyes riveted to the vastness that seems to stretch on forever. Jon had brought her up here during her first stay in Castle Black and even though her thoughts are in turmoil right now, she marvels. She had forgotten how beautiful it is.

The old ranger sits on an ice bench carved on the side of the Wall, seemingly lost in thought, and Sansa surveys him carefully. He seems to be an old man although she cannot say for sure, his features possessing a sort of ageless quality. His hair is slightly streaked with grey but his eyes are sharp and clear, and he has an easiness about him that speaks of the many, many years spent here.

His eyes are trained on the piece of wood he’s carving and she looks back out over the edge, suddenly startling at the sound of his voice.

“You can’t stay here.” He keeps his head down, the knife in his hand moving swiftly despite the dim light. “It’s not safe. Not for you and not for anyone else.”

She keeps her eyes steadily forward as she wonders at his words, recognizing the truth in them. Still, she tries to delay the conversation, tries to steer him in another direction, one that doesn’t involve questions she has no answers for. “I thought those riders came bearing news,” she hears a snort at that, “but instead they seem to know absolutely nothing.” He’s looking at her now, and she sees a glimpse of something there. Recognition, perhaps.

“Rumors, that’s all they’re good for. Gossip to keep the men entertained and the women happy.” He drops his eyes back to his carving and shrugs casually. “The only ones who know what’s happened there are the ones who were there.”

Sansa shivers, her hands gripping the edges of the Wall tighter as she refuses to look at him. Refuses to move, or even breathe. “If any of what they’re saying is true, then no one knows.”

“Someone always knows.”

His attention is entirely focused on her now, and she deflates, giving up on this charade. “I don’t know where to go.” Her voice sounds small, like a child begging for forgiveness, and she realizes she’s shivering.

He lowers his eyes back to his carving, seeming to ponder her words. “There have been others like you, you know. Showing up here with nothing but the clothes on their back, trying to escape the madness. They always end up going the same way.” He gives a slight nod to his head. “North.”

She shakes her head. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but… “What would I do there?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Plot for revenge.” He looks up and gives her a wicked grin before his face softens into a sad smile. “Have a life.” His gaze wanders out over the Wall and across the vast snowy landscape. “Things are different out there but they’re not all bad.” He turns his eyes back at her before he adds, “either way, it’s more than you’ve got here.

He gives her a small nod and she smiles shakily at him, before leaning over the edge. There’s something riveting about those vast stretches of land, the wildness of it, that seems both absurdly appealing and incredibly frightening. She inhales the crisp night air, its iciness burning its way across her chest, as she ponders the notion.

North, always north.

                                                          ***

She leaves her small quarters as soon as dawn begins to unravel, the timid sun still barely visible above the horizon. Her few possessions have been packed the night before, and she picks up the bag and throws it over a shoulder before making her way towards the gates beneath the Wall.

The ranger is already there, waiting for her and she stops in her tracks and lifts a brow as she sees the horse.

“I know it’s not much to look at,” he says as he holds the reins towards her, “but she’s sturdier than she looks.”  She gives him a small smile before following him across the tunnel, climbing on the horse as he begins to open the gate.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs as if her words mean nothing and Sansa gives him a last nod before turning the horse, stopping momentarily as she hears his gruff voice. “He’s been here all night. I think he was waiting for you.”

She gives him a puzzled look before turning her head to look ahead. Her heart soars as she sees Ghost pacing across the snow, his red eyes looking at her before his tail waggles and he growls. The horse startles slightly at the sight but she pushes her forward with steady hands, coming to stand next to the direwolf before she leans down to give him an affectionate rub behind his ear.

He lolls his head to the side, licking her face affectionately before taking off in a slow run. A few yards ahead he stops, his head turning before he runs back to her, doing a full circle around the startled horse before taking off again. He’s as excited as a puppy and Sansa lets out a true laugh, before pushing her horse to follow him, the mare neighing before trotting ahead.

She may not know where she’s going, but at least she’s in good company.

                                                         ***

She follows his lead across frozen woods and barren wastelands, his paw prints marking a clear trail through the fresh snow whenever he ventures out ahead. He never strays far, his howls a beckoning call whenever she lags slightly behind.

Ghost and Terra seem to have reached an understanding of sorts, and the mare is now completely comfortable with the direwolf’s near constant presence at her side. It’s heartwarming to watch, and Sansa feels a tiny bit of something grow roots inside of her heart. If these two completely different animals can accept one another, surely there is hope for her as well.

She wonders sometimes at the sense of following after Ghost without question, but she refuses to dwell on it. He left Winterfell with Tormund, so perhaps that’s where he’s taking her. Perhaps not. He seems to know where he’s going and for now that is enough.

She prefers instead to bask in what surrounds her, the never ending emptiness, and the sheer freedom of it. She’s never felt anything quite like this before, this utter lack of rules, no one to judge or berate her. She knows it cannot last, that this isolation will soon begin to overwhelm her, but she’s enjoying it so far. She feels as though she’s shedding layers of herself the further she wanders, the vastness ahead pulling her within until there is little left of the Lady of Winterfell, little left of the Starks daughter. Out here, there is only Sansa.

They come to a stop at the end of another day to settle for the night, a cluster of small trees and sharp rocks providing some comfort against the bitter wind, as she begins the painstakingly slow process of starting a fire. She’s getting better at this, at surviving on her own, but the few provisions she brought along are dwindling. These are the times she worries, even though Ghost has been bringing her hares and other small animals every few days.

She huddles against his soft fur during the chilling nights, and maybe it’s his closeness, or the feeling of being out in the open again, but the dreams return. She’s still haunted by death and destruction only this time it’s entirely different. It’s Jon she sees riding the dragon, Jon who comes to take her in shackles to her doom.

Her conscious mind refuses to even think such things, choosing to believe he would never allow such actions to be taken against their home, against her. But in the grasps of sleep it’s impossible to ignore the truth. He’s there, with her, marrying her, and she can’t escape the knowledge that he must know, and has chosen to do nothing.

She wakes up in a cold sweat. Ghost is already up and about next to Terra, the two seemingly in confidence as they stand together waiting for her. She struts to them, giving him a rub behind the ear and patting her neck gently as she prepares to ride out.

“If you’d stop courting her for a moment we might get there sometime soon… wherever it is you’re taking us,” she tells him with a mock stern look.

It’s as though he understands her meaning for he heads out, stopping only once to stare back at her, red eyes glistening in the soft light, before he starts again. She smiles before jumping on the horse. “I guess that’s our cue.”

                                                           ***

The midday sun is shining brightly above her head, the snow glistening like a sea of tiny diamonds, when she sees the first plummets of smoke risking across the sky. “Good boy Ghost,” she whispers.

There’s a forest up ahead, with a clearly worn winding path between the massive trees, and Sansa is relieved when she sees it. Still, it takes their strange trio the better part of the afternoon to make their way through it. The sun is beginning to approach the horizon when they finally reach a small incline and she smiles as she sees the unmistakable shapes of dwellings in the distance.

She’s startled when Ghost sets off to the left, straying from the path and into the deeper woods, and she stands on her saddle to call him out. He turns his head to growl at her, before starting back across the trees, and she grimaces in frustration. She’s tired, her body yearning for a warm meal and an even warmer bed, and the prospect of ignoring him and hailing forward is tempting.

Still, he hasn’t failed her yet, and at this point in her life that means everything. With a heavy sigh, she grabs Terra’s reins and turns around to follow him.

Ghost leads her to a clearing, and a hut. It’s a small inconspicuous thing, made to look even smaller as it’s nestled between two massive rocks. There’s a shed to the side and right in front of it, a man.

He’s wielding an axe, chopping down wood for the fire, and from the size of the pile to his side he seems to have been at it for quite some time. He has shed his cloak and his furs, standing only in a tunic and breeches despite the freezing temperatures, and his skin glistens with sweat under the rapidly fading sun.

Ghost sprints towards him and he turns, dropping the axe with a happy laugh before sinking to his knees to grab the wolf’s head and rub his own against it lovingly.

Sansa stops at the very edge of the trees as she watches them, her heart skipping a beat before beginning to pound against her chest.

The man seems to sense her presence and looks up sharply, grey eyes staring intently at her before he slowly rises to his feet. His hair is longer, dark curls falling over his eyes as he rakes a hand to push them back in a painfully familiar gesture.

Jon.

[indomitablemegnolia]

Flashes of fear, oxygen trapped, unable to leave my lungs, leaving me unable to draw any more air in, panic and pains brutal edges of malice cut through my consciousness. Disorganized and frantic, my heart breaks again and again, the cold broken shards dig into my numbed flesh. My brain is fractured, recounting, broken, my thoughts a disaster, a train wreck. The broken mangled memories left to bleed on the tracks like an accident victim. My lithe words have abandoned me, left alone in a mine field. My mind so disassociated, I can’t even work up a panicked sob. A nightmare that’s right, it was a nightmare that woke me, but truly more than a nightmare, less than a dream, a reality revisited. I wake with an iron clad knot deep in my belly, shivering and panicked, frightened to the core. Air and screams trapped, captured; in my throat silence is what greets me on the other side of that wakeful barrier. Petrified I lie still, as flat as I can, willing the tremors and shakes to abate, swiping the cold sweat from my brow, but I can never take it from my soul. The trick of the subconscious, when defenses are down it allows all those fears, losses, grotesque experiences surface, those visitations from the past sneak back up to the top of my brain, I suffer the scourge yet again. Caustic emotions are only thing simmering on the top of my soul, as I surface from a fitful sleep. Sometimes triggered by the date, an action or phrase but always it affects. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed holding my head in my hands, still trying to shake the shivers that rack my body. I push myself up to a standing position and walk as steadily and assured as I can muster out my door down the hall to the bathroom. I don’t even bother to turn on the light I just lean heavily against the sink, run cold, cold water from the tap and splash my face. The dark circles of unshed tears under my eyes encompass my face. I try to wash these memories away, but since they are scars ingrained on the very core of my soul they taunt me as they course away, “I am there, stealthy still waiting for any break in your armour. I am there beneath the water’s surface, tentacles waiting to wrap around your ankles to drag you under the surface again and starve you of your oxygen, your hope.” I close my eyes and let my soul scream, trying to cover the taunting, a long loud piercing scream, the kind that will echo through the universe reverberating off of every harmonic alcove. I open my eyes and there he is, Life himself, as if called by the keening need in my soul to not be alone, not right now, not this moment. I sag against the sink grateful that the universe sent me what I needed. He looks me over; a small ghost of a smile haunted his lips when he took in my oversized Rancid t-shirt and tall striped socks. I practically felt his gaze caress the small bit of bare skin from mid-thigh to knee, the feeling comforting rather than leering. I look at him behind me in the mirror, his face at first smiling, rumpled slightly in confusion as he surveyed my face in the mirror, the dark circles and lipid eyes not escaping his intense scrutiny. His gaze kept traveling until they locked on mine. His piercing gaze delving deep in my soul, my memory, finding without too much bother because it was still skimming across the surface of my mind, what it was that was tormenting me so. He saw what I saw, his face contorted as he knew what I felt, he saw my attack. The head trauma, the multiple violations, the twisted arm, broken fingers, them taking turns, my screams silenced by the seat of my car as they pressed my face harder and harder into the rough fabric. It always amazed me that he could read my memory like cliff notes just staring into my soul, but after all he was Life, himself. I watched his face, shame engulfing me as he saw everything. He watched them rob me, rape me. His face reddened, his eyes sparked with an angry fire. That classically granite jaw hardened into a perfect symmetric block. His nostrils flared as his anger rose. I had never seen him angry. He was always sweet, cocky, taunting, and assured, but this, this was megaton level angry. He was barley containing his anger, it was the kind of anger that could level cities in seconds. He saw them strangle me, my scarf wound tightly around my neck, then leave me for dead. He looked away, literally turning his head away. I watched his every movement in the mirror, his body stiff, arms straight at his sides, his long wide knuckled fingers balled in fists, the fury reverberating from him was palpable. His beautiful face shaking as he slowly let a breath out between his tight lips, he sucked in a deep cleansing breath through his nose. I hung my head, shaking it as I closed my eyes, I must have sniffled. I opened my eyes looking back at him; sure he will never come back again. He gave me a sidelong glance, but what I saw stilled my breath. His anger grew in intensity now instead of fire I saw rock hard, crystallized anger. His eyes, instead of the warm sea glass as usual, were glittering vacant angry sapphires, dark and dangerous. His brows a straight dark line across his forehead with one small crease midway between them. His eyes wide, still searching mine, exactly for what I don’t exactly know, those beautiful crinkles I so adored erased. His lips drawn taught not a hint of a smile near them. His glorious jawline solid, slightly cocked. I wanted to look away drop my eyes to my hands on the edge of the sink, but I refused to flinch. I gathered my courage and looked straight into his eyes, his soul, I stopped breathing. What I saw there wasn’t directed at me, he was righteously indignant for me. I saw an archangel staring back at me, and then he was gone. It was a kind of shameful grief filled me that I hadn’t ever known, I was sure that it was the last time I would see Life, himself. Lord In heaven I would miss him. I crawled back to bed and passed a long dreamless night. The date, the time of year caught up with me, I was never lost on the irony that my favorite season is fall, but the way it shakes out, the years typically go September hunker, October the proverbial manure hits the Evinrude propeller, November there I am stuck with the clean up along with the icy cold and lack of resources, December is a further declination straight onto march… but I love fall. The air, the weather, the smell of fall, the colors, I love this shifting season with no limits. Today was that proverbial day from hell, pain, tests and bad news all lined up after each other. I get out of my car, walk haltingly to my door, I lean heavily against the jamb as I unlock it. I walked in laughing, choking on the tears welling their confusion mingling in my throat. I stopped, swinging the door closed loudly, the instant I thought I was alone I drop to my knees, sobbing. Not sobbing in the way grown-ups do out of anger or just stung pride or self-pity, insipid little tears stinging the eyes. These were true heart-rending guffawing sobs. The kind it seems that only children can master from some pain they cannot communicate. The darkness over taking my soul, I know where from, but I do not know what to call it. The wracked sobs rocking my very bones, the painful rending heaping waves of nausea on top of the soul-deep ache from whence I know now where. The pain engulfing my entire being, eating its way through my heart, every defense broken hanging in tattered shards, my soul, every fiber of my being broken down and dashed to dust. My naked soul bared for the world entire, finding at the moment no mercy, no compassion, I find no reason for being, no logic to my tenuous grip on this existence. I know my face is a mess, gallons of tears streaming down my red ruddy face, my nose keeping pace with the tears. My forehead crumpled in every possible way, my lips a snarl of anguish, cheeks cramped and stained. I look a state, my soul in shambles and my heart withered to the size of a raisin. I am sure that was when you appeared, you did not presume to know what troubled me, you just knew my pain, you heard the keening tone of my broken soul. You just reached out your hand and toyed with my hair, fighting back your own sympathetic tears gaining in your eyes. You did not presume to tell me to stop or mutter some empty accolade that everything is going to be alright. You just sat there with me in quiet comfort, assuring me silently that you would never forsake me. How my dear, how can you be so kind to this oh so strange girl, this misfit, this oddity. You kneel pulling me onto your lap, rocking me slowly cradling me as you hum a quiet haunting tune. I soak your shirt perhaps even your undershirt with my tears, unashamed unabashed I wept, I sobbed and I let every pain and agony out. I shiver and bask in your warmth, your strength. You held me, Life, himself held me with nothing but tenderness and love. My limbs shook from exertion and chill; you pull off your sweater and wrap it around me. You rocked me humming, kissing the hair on my head, holding me tight, for the first time in nearly forever I felt safe, truly safe. Exhaustion soaked into my every muscle, then bone deep. As the tears slowed to a trickle. You used your sleeve to mop my face softly, sweetly. Your caring warmed the icy chill around my heart and I snuggled tighter in your arms and despite the shuddering hiccup breaths that follow, the headache that I had expected showed. A warm drowsy comfort dulled my brain and my senses and as I drifted off to sleep I felt your light kiss to my lips. A healing filled me, along with a delighted glee that you had come back. Hours later I wake in the hallway alone. A chill in the air I pull deeper into the warmth surrounding me, I realize it’s your sweater. Your beautiful scent hung on it like a delicious comforting cloud. I pull it tight around me feeling it like a delicious hug engulfing me. You presence for once reinforced by a reality, could a dream, a ghost, a specter leave behind a beautiful Aran sweater? Life himself, is real, he never was a figment of my truly active imagination. I slowly stand and walk down the hall to my bed and lay down, falling into another delicious dreamless sleep wrapped in your beautiful sweater. It is then I know, I survive, I always survive, my will strong, never letting my heart abate. ~Indomitable? Meg

[olwog]

Today we learn that being afraid of heights can be defeated with a little bit of help from friends and not everyone has the same expectations from a walk.

We’re in a large house in Newlands Valley. It’s regarded as one of the most beautiful and quiet places in the otherwise busy area new Keswick and, with the exception of the ‘interesting’ manoeuvring that is necessary as car passes car or any vehicle overtaking mountain bike, it really is quiet and, at the risk of being repetitive, very, very beautiful. 

Our temporary residence sits above a small hamlet descriptively called Little Town and we’re surrounded by Causey Pike, Barrow, Robinson, Hindscarth, Catbells, Maiden Moor and Dale Head but the ones we can see are where we’re walking today.

Catbells, Maiden Moor and Causey Pike are three of many peaks just across the valley and whilst we’re looking forward to walking them, it looks challenging. The weather is forecast to be showery with some likely to be heavy and we’re at 2000 feet so it’s going to be cold so hail could also be an issue.

As we have breakfast the clouds drift around the peaks. There is very little wind so they’re in no hurry and Carol is telling us that “…if you get a shower, it could hang about for a while as there is very little wind”. Well, that’s bad in one sense but it’s a positive too as we don’t have to contend with too much wind chill – maybe.

    The plan is to get me up Catbells. In July 2015, we visited this lovely area and the team walked to the peak but I was nursing an aortic aneurysm so was restricted to a shorter loop walk that wouldn’t include too much exertion. 

I didn’t know it at the time but six weeks later I would be lying in James Cook hospital following major surgery that fixed it and since then, the team have been trying to arrange a return visit to get me up there and, to say I’m looking forward to it, is an understatement. 

The name Cat Bells may have come from a corruption of ‘cat’s bield’ meaning a wild cat’s shelter and may stem from days gone by when wild cats still roamed our countryside

The first kilometre of walking is along a quiet road that traverses the length of the valley and would normally be boring but when you’re int he Lakes there’s always something to look at. Even at night, this is such a dark area that when cloudless, the stars and planets are vivid and pin-shape against the backdrop of black.

    We turn off the road and immediately down, we’ve grown accustomed to feeling a bit cheated when we go down having not gone up because we all know the consequence! It is; however, across a delightful piece of land followed by the appropriately named Newland Beck and a bridge, we like a bridge, then we’re on the ‘up’. It’s not vicious and gives us a good opening workout as we look at the double peaks of Catbells so far above.

Our track takes us through Skelgill then we contour around the end of Gutherscale and after passing a couple of dog walkers reach the steps the top of which were the maximum height that I could achieve before my operation. If you have been saddled with a triple ‘A’ aneurysm please take care before the op.; however, after the op., in the words of the Nike ad. ‘just do it’.

I’ve looked forward to this for nearly four years when I saw the rest of the team disappear over the scramble at the top of the steps and I peeled away with a couple who didn’t want to go to the top because they had an issue with heights. I enjoyed the walk that I did that year and the views that it afforded but I still envied my mates going to the top. Now it’s my day and, whilst we’ve done a lot of things since then, this is the one to which I’ve really looked forward. (I’ve put a link to 2015 walk at the end).

It’s a bit of a zig-zag slog initially but the first scramble appears sooner than expected along with the first rain and hailstones. The hailstones are insignificant in size and far more acceptable than rain which makes the scramble moist producing a slippery surface and as a Catbells virgin it’s an irony I can do without!  No sooner had I thought these words than the rain came and zips had to be zipped and hoods put on the words that resonated with me were spoken by a mountain rescue friend who said, “It’s easier to keep warm than to re-establish warmth when chilled” and added that the latter is a near impossibility. So wrapped up and hooded I return to the scramble and watch the people in front who seem clueless so I pick my own route with encouragement from Dave.

    The real challenge is when you raise a foot higher than your thigh and establish a foothold then pull yourself up. All of this is mechanically, no problem except, at our age, the ability to make that haul is a mystery. You know you used to be able to do it but not quite sure now. The other challenge is that you know that once your trailing foot leaves its place of safety, you have no idea where it was so going back is, at best, a guess and, at worst, a near miss. I go for the haul and slip, oh, and yes, my trailing foot has left its place of safety and is hovering in mid-air. Now here is the wonderful imaginative power of the human mind. Minutes earlier I’d been surveying the most beautiful vista. Derwentwater in all its glory surrounded by fabulous stone-scarred mountains cloaked in woods and capped by the moodiest cloud-filled sky but, most of all, it was a long way down. What is now going through my mind is the fact that I’m on a scramble a long way up; the reality is that, yes, I’m on wet rocks but they’re only ten feet up so if I do fall off, all I have to do is spread my legs and arms to avoid rolling and I’ll be fine; however, that would mean staying conscious. I do think about using my teeth on the piece of bracken sticking out of cracks between the huge stones then dismiss that in favour of concentrating on re-establishing my grip on the slippery stone and finding a crack into which I could lodge my trailing foot. Dave realises there is an issue and calls, “You all right?” By now I’m flat against the stones and my trailing foot is indeed hovering in mid-air and there’s a pain in my chest where a particularly large stone is digging into my ribs. “Yeah, I’m fine”, I say to Dave still with worrying thoughts about the height. I give another push with the leading foot that had slipped and this time I’m up and safe, “Yeah, thanks, I’m OK, well I am now”. I think my second response is met with more acceptance and Dave watches as I regain my composure and begin the scramble over the rest of the rocks. At the top of the scree/rocks, I check on Dave and he’s making good progress on what looks like a better route and I vow to do a little more analysis on the next scramble up to the summit.

    At the top of the first peak, there’s a saddle with a wide track and any anxiety regarding height would subside as the width is such that there is no feeling of ‘Striding Edge” and the next two or three hundred metres is covered with ease. The final rise is a scramble like the previous one, it’s much higher but not as challenging and by adopting a more analytical approach and a bit of advice from Dave who’s already been this way a couple of days ago, we reach the top. We’re just in time to see clouds clear and blue sky is revealed with sunbeams scooting across the dales and villages nearly 1500 feet below (451 metres); in short, this is sublime.

We celebrate with the others up there and a wonderful lady from Ireland named Laura takes a photograph so that we can all be on it. I ask about the North of Northern Ireland and she tells us it’s wonderful – note to self – put it on the list for future walking!

We stop for a while and take in the views from all compass points although there is significant cloud in the North and rain or hail can be seen falling like mist out of the bottom of the dark mass hovering above the mountains in the distance.

Someone says that it’s a bit of scramble up the last bit and that they’re surprised that it’s considered a good ‘family’ walk for children and grandparents alike, there is an implied question until Dave makes the observation, “We are grandparents, in fact some of us could easily be great-grandparents” – it’s a great walk and I’d urge you to do it.

          We set off down Black Crag and start the long haul up Maiden Moor with only a couple of short scrambles to challenge us. At the top, we settle down to a bite to eat and talk about the views which are phenomenal. We decide on a split where three of the long-distance walkers will carry on to Dale Head whilst the others will return via Little Town.

    As we descend Brunt Crag we meet our temporary neighbours who are living in the smaller of the two houses next to ours. They’re a wonderful family and we see them heading towards old slate mine workings about 200 metres from us. It’s slightly up and we can do without that at this late stage but decide to explore as I’d read about Beatrix Potter and her Mrs Tiggy-Winkle stories about the hedgehog washerwoman. The front of one of the lead mines on this moor is said to be the inspiration for her front door and it matters not whether this is the one – we make the decision that it is – regardless of fact and go in.

It’s pitch dark inside and our neighbours and new friends lend us a powerful torch so that we can go in and explore. It comes with some sage advice as we’re told to be careful 20 or 30 metres in as there is a vertical shaft covered only by a single plank. We resolve to walk to that and return without any dangerous jumping manoeuvres to test its springiness. The shaft not particularly high and I hit my head on the roof several times as I negotiate my way towards the shaft. Dave’s already been there and is making his way back when we find a place wide enough to pass and he gives me the torch to continue the adventure. It’s an eerie site cast in the round beam of the torch, a single plank over a shaft of unknown depth one end of which is sitting on loose spoil. My plan was to go and look down it but the moving spoil beneath my feet helps me reconsider and I make my way towards the beams of light being emitted by the ‘phones of George and Dave who have taken up strategic positions along the passageway to maintain safety.

We return to the bright light of afternoon sunshine and squint for a while as our eyes adjust and we joke about graffiti that depicts Mrs Tiggy-Winkle as a ‘bit of a goer’ apparently. I’m not sure that Beatrix wrote that into any of her stories but there you go, ‘Peter Rabbit and the House of the Rising Sun’. Not an expected combination!

    We continue the descent into Little Town and a tiny cafe shields us from what is becoming a damp, cold day where nice hot pea soup is enjoyed with huge freshly baked bread buns. You’d need to eat this on the way down, after a meal of this size, you’d never get up but it looks and smells spectacular and comes highly recommended.

The final leg of the walk is only a couple of kilometres (just over a mile) but it’s always a struggle. It’s an observation that we’ve made several times; the walk can be long or short, it matters not, the last mile is the hardest.

  Thank you, George Renwick, Dave Rider, Bill Humphrey, Robin Wright, Peter Hymer, Dave Bowman and Chris Richardson.

Enjoy the snaps…G..x

Feel free to ‘share’ and comment, I love comments.

A great walk up Catbells and on to Maiden Moor with great photos Today we learn that being afraid of heights can be defeated with a little bit of help from friends and not everyone has the same expectations from a walk.

[whittlebaggett8]

The End of an Era: Japan’s Emperor Finalizes Abdication

Japanese Emperor Akihito declared his abdication at a palace ceremony Tuesday in his last deal with, as the country embraced the finish of his reign with reminiscence and hope for a new period.

“Today, I am concluding my duties as the emperor,” Akihito mentioned as he stood in entrance of the throne, as other associates of the royal family members and top governing administration officials viewed.

“Since ascending the throne 30 a long time ago, I have carried out my responsibilities as the emperor with a deep feeling of belief in and regard for the people, and I contemplate myself most lucky to have been capable to do so. I sincerely thank the persons who recognized and supported me in my role as the symbol of the condition,” Akihito stated in his previous formal obligation as emperor.

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As he walked out of the home following his speech and officers ended up taking away the imperial regalia in a box, Akihito turned all around, paused and bowed to the audience.

His reign ran by way of midnight, when his son Crown Prince Naruhito, who observed Akihito’s abdication ceremony, grew to become the new emperor and his period commenced.

Naruhito will formally ascend the Chrysanthemum Throne on Wednesday. In a independent ceremony he will obtain the imperial regalia of sword and jewel as perfectly as the imperial seals as evidence of his succession as the nation’s 126th emperor, according to official palace depend, which historians say could contain legendary figures until finally about the fifth century.

Naruhito’s wife Masako and daughter Aiko are barred from the ceremony for the reason that they are feminine members of the royal relatives, a palace custom that the govt upheld in spite of criticism that it is out of stage with contemporary values.

The emperor is described as a symbol of the condition and the people’s unity and has no political electricity below Japan’s submit-war constitution. His official duties are mostly managed by a extremely controlling Imperial Family Agency. But Akihito’s devotion in achieving out to the folks, primarily people suffering or fewer lucky, produced him much more popular than any politician.

Many people gathered outside the house the palace compound several hours just before Tuesday’s ceremony inspite of unseasonably moist and cold weather conditions, and even nevertheless they have been not allowed to seem inside of.

“We came simply because these days is the previous day of [the emperor’s era of] Heisei, and we experience nostalgic,” explained Akemi Yamauchi, 55, standing outside the house the palace with her husband.

“He has worked challenging for the men and women, he is pretty thoughtful, and sort to everyone,” explained her spouse, Kaname. The few came from Kyoto, Japan’s historic funds in which emperors lived right up until about 150 years in the past.

Messages have arrive from world-wide leaders.

South Korean President Moon Jae-in expressed gratitude in a letter to Akihito for his emphasis on peace and contributions to producing relations amongst Seoul and Tokyo. U.S. President Donald Trump expressed appreciation for his contribution to the two countries’ close relations. Trump had a courtesy conference with Akihito for the duration of his 2017 Japan stop by and will be the to start with foreign chief in May possibly to meet up with the new emperor.

Japanese tv chat reveals shown a countdown to the midnight changeover, and programming was dominated by the abdication and searching back at key events in Akihito’s era, including a significant 2011 tsunami, a lethal earthquake in Kobe in 1995, and the Tokyo subway nerve fuel attack in 1995 that shook Japan’s perception of safety and self esteem.

Stability was really restricted close to the palace and across downtown Tokyo, with countless numbers of law enforcement mobilized. Police arrested a male on Monday evening on suspicion of positioning a pair of kitchen knives final week on the faculty desk employed by Akihito’s grandson.

Nevertheless, Japan was in festive temper in excess of a alter in an imperial era not caused by dying. Several people today frequented shrines and temples to obtain stamps dated on the past working day of Akihito’s era of Heisei, or “achieving peace.” Some amusement parks and shops supplied totally free admission and particular deals, even though customers had their very last Heisei meals at dining places. Naruhito’s era of Reiwa, or “beautiful harmony” starts Wednesday.

“The emperor has finished his duties and he is passing the baton to the crown prince, so it’s time for celebration,” claimed Mitsuhiro Sugita, a 67-calendar year-aged inexperienced tea maker.

Akihito, 85, took the throne in 1989 and devoted his vocation to creating amends for a war fought in his father’s identify when bringing the aloof monarchy closer to the people.

With his commoner-born wife, Empress Michiko, he achieved out to the individuals, primarily those people who faced handicaps and discrimination, as perfectly as individuals hit by disasters, illuminating the hardships of people usually disregarded by society.

Akihito was the very first modern day emperor to marry a commoner, one of several variations he brought to the palace. The few also chose to elevate their a few children as a substitute of leaving them with palace personnel, and made a decision to be cremated on their deaths and interred in a scaled-down tomb aspect by facet, also a custom-breaking stage.

Jeff Kingston, Asian scientific studies director at Temple University’s Japan campus, states Akihito served as Japan’s “chief emissary of reconciliation,” though performing as “consoler-in-chief” in achieving out to the men and women. Akihito was also a “strong advocate of the susceptible and the marginalized in the Japanese society,” Kingston explained. “I consider the people today seriously warmed to him and felt that the monarchy was pertinent to their lives simply because of these initiatives by Akihito.”

The latest media surveys have revealed public aid for the imperial household at 80 %, the greatest at any time for the institution.

These regard did not arrive right away. Akihito grew up in the course of World War II and was 11 when his father Hirohito declared the stop of the war on radio. Akihito embraced his function as peacemaker and typically represented his father on reconciliatory missions as a younger crown prince, many years in advance of he turned the emperor himself.

He is the very first emperor in Japan’s modern-day history whose period did not have a war. Nevertheless he has averted outright apologies, he has stepped up his expressions of regret in carefully scripted statements on the war.

Akihito frequented China in 1992 and offered what was regarded as the strongest expression of regret above the war. He also frequented the Philippines and other Pacific islands conquered by Japan that had been devastated in fierce combating as the U.S.-led allies took them again.

That leaves his son Naruhito — the initially emperor born soon after Globe War II — mostly cost-free of the stress of the wartime legacy, permitting him to request his individual role. Naruhito has reported he would mainly emulate his father’s pacifist stance and compassion for the folks, but also claimed he hopes to request a function of his very own, perhaps in difficulties linked to h2o, which he researched at Oxford University in the early 1980s. That, or disaster resilience, or the environment, could attractiveness additional to a people predominantly from publish-war generations.

Akihito will be recognized as the emperor emeritus and will no lengthier have official obligations. He won’t even go to his son’s succession rituals so as not to interfere with the serving emperor.

Akihito is predicted to enjoy his retirement, heading to museums and concerts, or spending time on his goby research at a seaside imperial villa. Akihito and Michiko will transfer to a momentary royal residence ahead of inevitably switching sites with Naruhito.

By Mari Yamaguchi for The Connected Press. Connected Press journalist Kaori Hitomi contributed to this report.

The post The End of an Era: Japan’s Emperor Finalizes Abdication appeared first on Defence Online.

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[onewheelneil]

Germany day 5

Got up at 10 AM today and did my morning routine. Got out and finally got to unicycle again after a bunch of rainy days. It was really fun as I started out going towards the Olympic park. I stopped at a grocery store to buy some food for the day as I didn't want to waste time in a restaurant. I got bread cheese salami and bananas. The banana I had after buying the stuff was perfectly ripe so that was nice. I got to the Olympic park and walked around until I found a great view point area. There was a big hill to climb. From the top you could see most of Munich and the Olympic park as well. I got great pictures and then started my ride towards nymphenburg palace. It was a little ways away but most of the ride was next to this looooong pool that preceded the palace. It looked like a river but there was no current. The day was sunny and I was sweating which I hadn't done since Prague. The palace was big and the garden behind it was even bigger. They had beautiful flowers and statues along the path of the garden. I was getting hungry again so I started eating my bread and salami and cheese. These two Chinese tourists came by and were curious about the cheese because they had never seen something like it I guess. They nonchalantly sat next to me and pointed to my cheese saying "what is that". I responded in Chinese "cheese". They both got that stupidly surprised look as they heard what I just said. I told them I lived in Beijing for a year and we had a nice Chinese conversation. After they had to go and I finished I started unicycling towards the subway that would take me to the technology museum. The train didn't take long and it was comfy. I got to the museum without too much trouble and saw all these turbines and solar panels on display outside so I knew I was in the right place. I got my ticket and headed inside. I decided to start on the highest floor. The first stair case didn't take me to the top but I went through the computer science exhibit where it showed old mathematic machines and protractors and compasses. They had an exhibit on electronics and micro electronics. They talked about semi conductors and transistors and silicon and crystals. It was like school all over again. They even had a computer that would play Rock Paper Scissors with you. All you did was hold your hand up in front of a camera. Then there was an exhibit on maps and surveying technologies. I wasn't too interested in it so I breezed past it. Then they had an astronomy exhibit where they featured big telescopes and awesome pictures. They taught about Tj sun and the planets and the rotations of the planets. It was really cool. Then I got to go up more floors where they had a sundial exhibit on the roof. There was also good pictures of the city. The sundials were all telling me the time accurately as well as the suns angle to the sun dial. I went back inside to see the other exhibits on mining and metals and metal casting. They also had a special exhibit on future energy technologies. It talked all about renewables being the future and even had a tesla roadster on display. Then I saw a nano technologies exhibit that talked about how a nano particle is made and what it is good for. It went into carbon nanotubes which was also like school. Thy had a bio technology exhibit on gene manipulation and important gene research going on. It was all so much information it could take a week to go through it all. Then I decided to hit the nuclear energy exhibit that talked about fusion and fission. That was interesting too and I'm sure my mom would of liked to see it. The last exhibit I had time for was electric power that featured all these generators and engines. They even had a tesla coil demonstration but it was in German and I had to get going. There were other exhibits I didn't even get to see like in musical instruments and sailing ships. This museum was absolutely massive and a must see in Munich. I want to go back so badly. As I left I realized it was 4:30 which was too late to see the other museums. I unicycled through the old city where there were a lot of squares and churches. The old buildings were magnificent as well. I went to each one and marveled at them all. The squares were packed with people taking in the nice weather. I also went to the Munich residenz which was a huge palace type palace with a nice park near it. There were lots of people lounging on the grass in the sun. I started getting tired and my friend would be out of work soon so I started heading back to his place. My phone ran out of battery but I knew which direction I had to go. I could quite find his street to turn down so I ended up going down the wrong street and finding a bar to have a drink and charge my phone. I realized where I was finished my beer paid and got back to my friends place. He got home shortly after I did and we both relaxed a bit before heading to dinner. Wiener schnitzel is the Munich specialty so we went to a schnitzel place. It was only a mile away so we walked. We got there and immediately sat and order beer and schnitzel. They must serve a lot of schnitzel because it came out with our beers. We were hungry so we were happy. They were massive pieces of schnitzel over flowing the plate with potatoes under neath. It was fantastic and juicy and came with cream and cranberries. It was so good and I finished mine really fast which my friend noticed. He was quite surprised I got all that food so quickly. While he finished his I sipped on my beer and started to feel the weight of the dinner creeping up. It was good but too full for dessert. I paid as a present for his hospitality. Then we walked home where we each passed out quickly. Thanks for reading!

[proffloristsus]

Top 6 Florists Short Stories Of Inspiration

Inspirational Stories From Real Florists

We surveyed florists all over the world and gathered our Top 6 floral inspirational stories. It was not an easy task and we thank everyone who participated. So, with the busy Mother’s Day now over, why not grab yourself a cup of coffee, your favorite snack and take a moment to read these real florists short stories.

  image via pexels.com

My Grandmother And Her Garden –  Tarah

Every summer at Gramma’s house all my life has been full of ‘Purdy Flowers’ – as she pronounces it. Not a single corner of her yard is without a flowerbed and there are always hummingbirds and songbirds from dawn till dusk.

Every summer has always lead up to fair time. Gramma has competed in the local fairs for decades. I must add that Gramma almost always takes home Grand Champion prizes in every department she enters; crochet, canned goods, baked goods, photography, poultry, rabbits, goats, potted plants, vegetables, and my very favorite… cut flowers and floral arrangements! (she competes in the expert division). I just loved going out in the morning the day the flowers had to be entered and searching for the prettiest most uniform blossoms of each variety, cutting them in threes (for the holy trinity she said) and filling her kitchen with every kind of flower you could imagine surviving in Montana.

We filled jars and cups by the dozens with special cut flower elixir she made with soda pop, picked the best of every category for the cut flower division and prepared them for fair. Then the fun part, bouquet making! All of the flowers left that had been cut that morning (Gramma calls them the ‘reject flowers’) went into our bouquets, we got to use the pretty little vases she keeps in her curio cabinet for these.

Every year Gramma would set aside a beautiful old Victorian boot shaped porcelain vase, I’d always make a monochromatic arrangement with it in pink just specifically so I can put her chenille flowers into cascade down the side of the boot. One of Gramma’s favorite flowers is a petunia so there are always plenty in any pink or purple, double or single. We’d always make an ‘arrangement in white’ in her milk glass and hobnob vases, a great place for lots and lots of her adorable feverfew flowers! We had so much fun making our little bouquets, it’s always a day full of laughter! By far my fondest summer memories are during fair time with Gramma; spending the day playing with flowers and eating the ‘reject cookies’ that didn’t make the cut for fair.

She is my hero, my favorite person in the whole world, such an inspiration in every way in every part of my life. My little shop features many of her handcrafted treasures from her crochet work and beaded jewelry to her fresh baked goodies, and her canned jams and pickles (everyone loves these pickles!)

The biggest drawback to my shop ironically is that for the last handful of years since I opened I haven’t been out at my Gramma’s making bouquets in her kitchen for the fair…. So, I want to thank you for you’re putting this survey in your newsletter. I needed to remember why I wanted a shop in the first place, who’s garden started this. I think I’ll make a bouquet and take it to my Gramma’s and get our fair schedule set for this summer.

  image via pexels.com

Designers Choice – Harlins Renaissance -Shinese Harlins, Owner

I started my business at the moment in my life where a choice had to be made. I was laid off from a job. No money, no choices – so I took my savings and went to Phil Rulloda Floral University and received my floral certificate.

It was the best decision I’ve ever made. Being a florist allow me to use my creativity side. There is no color line – just balance, and harmony. I love when a customer loves the outcome. They come back. And when they say “designers choice”, my heart skips a beat!

  image via pexels.com

Flowers Touch Lives – Val Voigt- Detroit Lakes Floral 

A young man calls and would like to know prices on roses. He is going to bring his girlfriend some flowers. He places an order to be picked up. He arrives at the flower shop. He is so excited to bring his girl some beautiful roses.

In two weeks, he calls again and places another order for roses. He arrives at the flower shop. This time I ask him what is the name of this special girl? He smiles from ear to ear and tells me her name and how they met. She loved the first order of roses and now he says she will be very surprised and happy with the second order. He thanks me over and over for our service and says he will be back in two more weeks for some more roses.

That’s why I love the floral business. It touches people’s lives. We meet people and get the privilege of being a part of special events and moments in time.

  image via pexels.com

My Dream – Cynthia Dearnbarger – Flourish Flowers & Gifts, Old Town, Lewisville, TX

A dream in the making….

Years and years ago, I dreamed of opening a flower shop. I had completely forgotten about that dream, so many other things had taken priority and it was gone. Recently I have begun to dream again. God brought back this specific dream!

I am currently in the process of opening a storefront! The building is under construction and we are currently at our local farmers market, getting our name out to the community! Our hope is to bring life, love, compassion and hope to every person who gets an arrangement, bouquet or gift!

  image via pexels.com

 Love Conquers All – Cheryl Bakin-Parkway Florist

I was hired as an after-school high school helper during my junior year in high school. Because of the values instilled in me by my Dad, I knew that I had to be on time, and do my very best each day. I walked to the flower shop, which was inside the first Indoor shopping mall in the Pittsburgh area.

My boss was an older lady who was impressed that I showed each day on time, and tried to do and get done everything she assigned me to do. She kept me on after the Christmas holiday and began to teach me things, bow making, botanical, common names of flowers and plants and many other items large and small.

She instilled in me (or maybe brought out in me) a love for the beauty of flowers, and a desire to help others realize their dreams thru weddings, pretty everyday bouquets, and funerals. She taught me that education was very important, and to try to think out of the box.

After leaving the flower business at age 19, and going to work for corporate America for the next 20 years, I still kept my hand in the flower business and attempted to gain all the education — both flower and business — that I could. In 1987, I bought my flower shop. October 2017 will record a 30-year milestone of shop ownership.

That early training, as well as the fulfillment of my own dream of owning my own business, has helped me to mentor other people and get them onto a path where they can fulfill their dreams. Sometimes it is thru educational opportunities; Sometimes thru mentoring and being a good listener; sometimes it is being a trainer…….or just a role model.

In all cases, I try to always remember what my Dad and my first flower shop boss taught me……..”Kindness never goes out of fashion. Lead by example. Listen to all comments and critics. Be hardworking in all areas of your life, and you will succeed. And finally, Love conquers All”.

  image via pexels.com

A Final Goodbye – anonymous

During my late teens, I had a cocker spaniel that meant the world to me. After a couple of years, I forced to give my beloved dog up due to family members allergy. A family friend had found a good home for him in town about 40 minutes away from where I resided.  I was, to say the least, devastated and would have done anything and everything to keep him.  As time went on and now me in my mid 20’s, already set in my floral career I often thought of ways to kidnap my beloved dog from the family I gave him too. The issue here was I only knew what town he was in and not so much the house. I knew how irrational it was to try to kidnap my dog back, however, I just never felt a sense of closure or like I said goodbye.

As years passed  I never let go of the awful sadness of giving my dog away. Although the sadness was not as profound, it was always with me and made me feel like I failed him. After 10 years in the floral industry, I decided to open my floral business and was super excited to finally be a flower shop owner.  This was a great and overwhelming time in my life, I was very busy and focused.

Much to my surprise, I was also getting many bookings for weddings and one in particular which was referred by a customer. This customer was booking flowers for her daughter’s upcoming wedding in June. After 6 months or so her daughter’s wedding was finally here. I sent off the delivery driver to deliver the reception floral centerpieces and went to deliver the floral bouquets, corsages, and boutonnieres to the bride who was at her mom’s house for pictures. Upon arriving I had, which was hard to explain a very airy feeling. I could not put my finger on it at this time. I was invited in and asked to stay and eat something. Which I did, not sure why, most of the time I just want to deliver the flowers and get as fast as possible, but something kept me there.

After many conversations, the bride’s mother mentioned she had a lab who was at the groomers, then she proceeded to say she used to have a cocker spaniel who had passed a few years back.  At this moment it all came together for me. This was the family that took my beloved dog, Crazy, I know but I felt it way deep inside. I asked her where she got the cocker spaniel, “from a young girl who a family member that was allergic.” She then proceeded to take me into her bedroom to show me my beloved dogs ashes in a beautiful box which sat on her nightstand. At that moment she handed me the ashes and said this is him. I tried hard to hold back my tears I could finally say goodbye to my beloved dog.  I realized then he was so dearly loved and had family and no longer felt as if I had failed him or was a failure.  The lesson it thought me was that not all decisions in life are ones we make. Choosing the floral industry was a decision I made and one that shows me I’m where I need to be every day.I realized then he was so dearly loved and had family and I no longer felt as if I had failed him or was a failure.  The lesson it taught me was that not all decisions in life are ones we make. Choosing the floral industry was a decision I made and one that shows me I’m where I need to be every day.

I realized then he was so dearly loved and had family and I no longer felt as if I had failed him or was a failure.  The lesson it taught me was that not all decisions in life are ones we make. Choosing the floral industry was a decision I made and one that shows me I’m where I need to be every day.

Florists, do you have an inspirational story to tell?  What keeps you in the floral industry? Please share your thoughts and feedback in the comment section below. If you have any questions please post below as well!

____________

Floranext makes great florist software. Florist websites, floral POS, florist wedding/event proposal software, and florist technology. Let us know if you want a free demo or try our software for free here.

Top 6 Florists Short Stories Of Inspiration published first on YouTube

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Top 6 Florists Short Stories Of Inspiration

Inspirational Stories From Real Florists

We surveyed florists all over the world and gathered our Top 6 floral inspirational stories. It was not an easy task and we thank everyone who participated. So, with the busy Mother’s Day now over, why not grab yourself a cup of coffee, your favorite snack and take a moment to read these real florists short stories.

  image via pexels.com

My Grandmother And Her Garden –  Tarah

Every summer at Gramma’s house all my life has been full of ‘Purdy Flowers’ – as she pronounces it. Not a single corner of her yard is without a flowerbed and there are always hummingbirds and songbirds from dawn till dusk.

Every summer has always lead up to fair time. Gramma has competed in the local fairs for decades. I must add that Gramma almost always takes home Grand Champion prizes in every department she enters; crochet, canned goods, baked goods, photography, poultry, rabbits, goats, potted plants, vegetables, and my very favorite… cut flowers and floral arrangements! (she competes in the expert division). I just loved going out in the morning the day the flowers had to be entered and searching for the prettiest most uniform blossoms of each variety, cutting them in threes (for the holy trinity she said) and filling her kitchen with every kind of flower you could imagine surviving in Montana.

We filled jars and cups by the dozens with special cut flower elixir she made with soda pop, picked the best of every category for the cut flower division and prepared them for fair. Then the fun part, bouquet making! All of the flowers left that had been cut that morning (Gramma calls them the ‘reject flowers’) went into our bouquets, we got to use the pretty little vases she keeps in her curio cabinet for these.

Every year Gramma would set aside a beautiful old Victorian boot shaped porcelain vase, I’d always make a monochromatic arrangement with it in pink just specifically so I can put her chenille flowers into cascade down the side of the boot. One of Gramma’s favorite flowers is a petunia so there are always plenty in any pink or purple, double or single. We’d always make an ‘arrangement in white’ in her milk glass and hobnob vases, a great place for lots and lots of her adorable feverfew flowers! We had so much fun making our little bouquets, it’s always a day full of laughter! By far my fondest summer memories are during fair time with Gramma; spending the day playing with flowers and eating the ‘reject cookies’ that didn’t make the cut for fair.

She is my hero, my favorite person in the whole world, such an inspiration in every way in every part of my life. My little shop features many of her handcrafted treasures from her crochet work and beaded jewelry to her fresh baked goodies, and her canned jams and pickles (everyone loves these pickles!)

The biggest drawback to my shop ironically is that for the last handful of years since I opened I haven’t been out at my Gramma’s making bouquets in her kitchen for the fair…. So, I want to thank you for you’re putting this survey in your newsletter. I needed to remember why I wanted a shop in the first place, who’s garden started this. I think I’ll make a bouquet and take it to my Gramma’s and get our fair schedule set for this summer.

  image via pexels.com

Designers Choice – Harlins Renaissance -Shinese Harlins, Owner

I started my business at the moment in my life where a choice had to be made. I was laid off from a job. No money, no choices – so I took my savings and went to Phil Rulloda Floral University and received my floral certificate.

It was the best decision I’ve ever made. Being a florist allow me to use my creativity side. There is no color line – just balance, and harmony. I love when a customer loves the outcome. They come back. And when they say “designers choice”, my heart skips a beat!

  image via pexels.com

Flowers Touch Lives – Val Voigt- Detroit Lakes Floral 

A young man calls and would like to know prices on roses. He is going to bring his girlfriend some flowers. He places an order to be picked up. He arrives at the flower shop. He is so excited to bring his girl some beautiful roses.

In two weeks, he calls again and places another order for roses. He arrives at the flower shop. This time I ask him what is the name of this special girl? He smiles from ear to ear and tells me her name and how they met. She loved the first order of roses and now he says she will be very surprised and happy with the second order. He thanks me over and over for our service and says he will be back in two more weeks for some more roses.

That’s why I love the floral business. It touches people’s lives. We meet people and get the privilege of being a part of special events and moments in time.

  image via pexels.com

My Dream – Cynthia Dearnbarger – Flourish Flowers & Gifts, Old Town, Lewisville, TX

A dream in the making….

Years and years ago, I dreamed of opening a flower shop. I had completely forgotten about that dream, so many other things had taken priority and it was gone. Recently I have begun to dream again. God brought back this specific dream!

I am currently in the process of opening a storefront! The building is under construction and we are currently at our local farmers market, getting our name out to the community! Our hope is to bring life, love, compassion and hope to every person who gets an arrangement, bouquet or gift!

  image via pexels.com

 Love Conquers All – Cheryl Bakin-Parkway Florist

I was hired as an after-school high school helper during my junior year in high school. Because of the values instilled in me by my Dad, I knew that I had to be on time, and do my very best each day. I walked to the flower shop, which was inside the first Indoor shopping mall in the Pittsburgh area.

My boss was an older lady who was impressed that I showed each day on time, and tried to do and get done everything she assigned me to do. She kept me on after the Christmas holiday and began to teach me things, bow making, botanical, common names of flowers and plants and many other items large and small.

She instilled in me (or maybe brought out in me) a love for the beauty of flowers, and a desire to help others realize their dreams thru weddings, pretty everyday bouquets, and funerals. She taught me that education was very important, and to try to think out of the box.

After leaving the flower business at age 19, and going to work for corporate America for the next 20 years, I still kept my hand in the flower business and attempted to gain all the education — both flower and business — that I could. In 1987, I bought my flower shop. October 2017 will record a 30-year milestone of shop ownership.

That early training, as well as the fulfillment of my own dream of owning my own business, has helped me to mentor other people and get them onto a path where they can fulfill their dreams. Sometimes it is thru educational opportunities; Sometimes thru mentoring and being a good listener; sometimes it is being a trainer…….or just a role model.

In all cases, I try to always remember what my Dad and my first flower shop boss taught me……..”Kindness never goes out of fashion. Lead by example. Listen to all comments and critics. Be hardworking in all areas of your life, and you will succeed. And finally, Love conquers All”.

  image via pexels.com

A Final Goodbye – anonymous

During my late teens, I had a cocker spaniel that meant the world to me. After a couple of years, I forced to give my beloved dog up due to family members allergy. A family friend had found a good home for him in town about 40 minutes away from where I resided.  I was, to say the least, devastated and would have done anything and everything to keep him.  As time went on and now me in my mid 20’s, already set in my floral career I often thought of ways to kidnap my beloved dog from the family I gave him too. The issue here was I only knew what town he was in and not so much the house. I knew how irrational it was to try to kidnap my dog back, however, I just never felt a sense of closure or like I said goodbye.

As years passed  I never let go of the awful sadness of giving my dog away. Although the sadness was not as profound, it was always with me and made me feel like I failed him. After 10 years in the floral industry, I decided to open my floral business and was super excited to finally be a flower shop owner.  This was a great and overwhelming time in my life, I was very busy and focused.

Much to my surprise, I was also getting many bookings for weddings and one in particular which was referred by a customer. This customer was booking flowers for her daughter’s upcoming wedding in June. After 6 months or so her daughter’s wedding was finally here. I sent off the delivery driver to deliver the reception floral centerpieces and went to deliver the floral bouquets, corsages, and boutonnieres to the bride who was at her mom’s house for pictures. Upon arriving I had, which was hard to explain a very airy feeling. I could not put my finger on it at this time. I was invited in and asked to stay and eat something. Which I did, not sure why, most of the time I just want to deliver the flowers and get as fast as possible, but something kept me there.

After many conversations, the bride’s mother mentioned she had a lab who was at the groomers, then she proceeded to say she used to have a cocker spaniel who had passed a few years back.  At this moment it all came together for me. This was the family that took my beloved dog, Crazy, I know but I felt it way deep inside. I asked her where she got the cocker spaniel, “from a young girl who a family member that was allergic.” She then proceeded to take me into her bedroom to show me my beloved dogs ashes in a beautiful box which sat on her nightstand. At that moment she handed me the ashes and said this is him. I tried hard to hold back my tears I could finally say goodbye to my beloved dog.  I realized then he was so dearly loved and had family and no longer felt as if I had failed him or was a failure.  The lesson it thought me was that not all decisions in life are ones we make. Choosing the floral industry was a decision I made and one that shows me I’m where I need to be every day.I realized then he was so dearly loved and had family and I no longer felt as if I had failed him or was a failure.  The lesson it taught me was that not all decisions in life are ones we make. Choosing the floral industry was a decision I made and one that shows me I’m where I need to be every day.

I realized then he was so dearly loved and had family and I no longer felt as if I had failed him or was a failure.  The lesson it taught me was that not all decisions in life are ones we make. Choosing the floral industry was a decision I made and one that shows me I’m where I need to be every day.

Florists, do you have an inspirational story to tell?  What keeps you in the floral industry? Please share your thoughts and feedback in the comment section below. If you have any questions please post below as well!

____________

Floranext makes great florist software. Florist websites, floral POS, florist wedding/event proposal software, and florist technology. Let us know if you want a free demo or try our software for free here.

from Flower Decoration http://ift.tt/2q1bioy