#and if we fail early it will be one less deadline this month so no matter what happens im happy xD

[willczek-art]

Portrait of my bro, she lives in a nachos~

We're taking part in a small fanart collab competition and this was a bonus round prompt ^u^

[beardedmrbean]

TOPEKA, Kan. (AP) — State and local election officials from across the country on Wednesday warned that problems with the nation’s mail delivery system threaten to disenfranchise voters in the upcoming presidential election, telling the head of the U.S. Postal Service that it hasn’t fixed persistent deficiencies.

In an alarming letter, the officials said that over the past year, including the just-concluded primary season, mailed ballots that were postmarked on time were received by local election offices days after the deadline to be counted. They also noted that properly addressed election mail was being returned to them as undeliverable, a problem that could automatically send voters to inactive status through no fault of their own, potentially creating chaos when those voters show up to cast a ballot.

The officials also said that repeated outreach to the Postal Service to resolve the issues had failed and that the widespread nature of the problems made it clear these were “not one-off mistakes or a problem with specific facilities. Instead, it demonstrates a pervasive lack of understanding and enforcement of USPS policies among its employees.”

The letter to U.S. Postmaster General Louis DeJoy came from two groups that represent top election administrators in all 50 states. They told DeJoy, “We have not seen improvement or concerted efforts to remediate our concerns.”

“We implore you to take immediate and tangible corrective action to address the ongoing performance issues with USPS election mail service,” they added. “Failure to do so will risk limiting voter participation and trust in the election process.”

A message seeking a response from the U.S. Postal Service was not immediately returned.

The two groups, the National Association of Secretaries of State and the National Association of State Election Directors, said local election officials “in nearly every state” are receiving timely postmarked ballots after Election Day and outside the three to five business days USPS claims as the standard for first-class mail.

The letter comes less than two weeks after DeJoy said in an interview that the Postal Service was ready to handle a flood of mail ballots expected as part of this November’s presidential election and as former President Donald Trump continues to sow doubts about U.S. elections by falsely claiming he won in 2020.

That year, amid the global pandemic, election officials reported sending just over 69 million ballots in the mail, a substantial increase from four years earlier.

While it’s likely that number will be smaller now, many voters have embraced mail voting and come to rely on it. And both Democrats and Republicans have launched efforts to push supporters to vote early, either in person or by mail to “bank” their votes before Election Day on Nov. 5.

The letter went out on the day the first mailed ballots of this year’s general election were being sent, to absentee voters in Alabama.

Postal Service officials told reporters last month that almost 98% of ballots were returned to election officials within three days in 2020, and in 2022, the figure was nearly 99%. DeJoy said he would like to inch closer to 100% this election cycle and that the Postal Service is better positioned to handle ballots than four years ago.

But officials in rural states have been critical of the Postal Service for years as it has consolidated mail-processing centers to cut its costs and financial losses. _________________________

Submitted by @thejdog2000

This does come off a little odd you are right, not sure what to think of all of it especially given that the postal service union backed biden in 2020.

The rural state thing would likely impact GOP voters more I would think, but maybe not on the mail in side, folks from both sides of the aisle seem to be registering concerns here too, which I think is a good sign that it's not part of some kind of scam at least.

There is a really easy way around this, that's voting in person or dropping your mail in ballot off at the local registrar of voters.

In addition to being signed by the current and incoming presidents for both groups of election officials, the leaders of groups that represent local election officials in 25 states were listed.

The election officials warned that any election mail returned to an election office as undeliverable could trigger a process outlined in federal law for maintaining accurate lists of registered voters. That means a voter could be moved to “inactive” status and be required to take additional action to verify their address to participate in the election, the officials said in the letter.

Kansas Secretary of State Scott Schwab, the recent past president of the National Association of Secretaries of State, sent his own letter in recent days to DeJoy. He said nearly 1,000 ballots from his state’s Aug. 6 primary election couldn’t be counted because they arrived too late or without postmarks — and more continue to come in.

“The Pony Express is more efficient at this point,” Schwab posted on the social media platform X in late August.

Schwab and other Kansas election officials also have said some ballots arrive on time but without postmarks, which keeps them from being counted under Kansas law. What’s more, Schwab told DeJoy, local postal clerks have told election officials that they can’t add postmarks later even if it’s clear that the Postal Service handled the ballot ahead of the mail-in deadline.

Kansas will count ballots postmarked on or before Election Day if they arrive within three days. The Republican-controlled Legislature created that grace period in 2017 over concerns that mail delivery had slowed after the Postal Service shut down seven mail-processing centers in the state. That left much of the state’s mail handled through larger centers in Denver, Amarillo, Texas, and Kansas City, Missouri.

Schwab has promoted the use of local ballot drop boxes for voting in advance, breaking with other Republicans who have suggested without evidence that they can be sources of fraud. Schwab has long said the boxes are more secure than the U.S. mail.

“Keep your ballot out of the hands of the federal government!” he advised voters in a post on X after the August primary.

In their letter Wednesday, election officials said colleagues across the U.S. have reported that Postal Service staff, from managers to mail carriers, are uninformed about the service’s policies for handling election-related mail, give them inconsistent guidance and misdeliver ballots.

“There is no amount of proactive communication election officials can do to account for USPS’s inability to meet their own service delivery timelines,” the officials wrote. “State and local election officials need a committed partner in USPS.”

____ Cassidy reported from Detroit.

[twistedtummies2]

The Price May Be Right - Number 3

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’ve been counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. We’ve entered the Top 3 of this countdown! Today we focus on Number 3: ZigZag, from The Thief and the Cobbler.

This movie has a history like you wouldn’t believe. I could jabber on for AGES about this “lost epic” of animation, but I’m going to try and keep the context as succinct as possible. “The Thief and the Cobbler” – which underwent NUMEROUS title changes throughout its extensive creation – was the intended Magnum Opus of master animator Richard Williams, the man most well-known today for being head of animation on “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” Williams wanted to create a comedic, surreal film – inspired by the legends of the Arabian Nights – that would be the absolute pinnacle of animation at the time. Production started as early as 1964…but no complete version of the film was released until the early 1990s, with the last one being in 1993 (released a month after Price’s death, technically and posthumously making this his final film role). So, what happened between 1964 and 1993? Well, the short version of it can be summed up like this: Williams kept changing his mind on the project’s story, and the funding for the film kept changing from backer to backer. Animators came and went as the characters and plot shifted with the decades. Finally, Williams finalized the story and got support from Warner Bros., who delivered a simple ultimatum: Williams had to finish the project on time and on budget, or they would remove him from his own film and get someone else to finish it. Wouldn’t you know it, that’s exactly what ended up happening: unable to meet the deadline, Williams was fired from his own movie, and producer Fred Calvert turned to the Completion Bond Company to get the movie made. Two completely different “finished” versions of the film were released; neither was received very well by critics, and both failed at the box office. Williams would forever consider the fate of his intended masterpiece the greatest embarrassment of his entire career. There are now no less than four versions of the movie available for viewing. There are the two versions released by Calvert and the CBP, the original unfinished workprint by Williams…and a fan-made project called “The Recobbled Cut,” which attempts to give the film the closest thing to its intended release possible by blending elements of all three together. The Recobbled Cut, itself, has gone through several editions over the years, and is still a work in progress, much like the movie it aspires to breathe pure life into. The film has become something of a legend in animation circles, for a LOT of reasons…but we’re not here to discuss the movie in totality. I’ve rambled about its history long enough; we’re here to talk about Vincent Price. So where does he come into the picture? Well, back when the movie was first getting started in 1964, Price was in his heyday. As it turned out, Williams was a big fan of Price’s work, and he contacted Price to see if he’d be interested. Vincent thought the movie sounded like an interesting endeavor, so he agreed, and his antagonist – first named “Anwar,” then later renamed “ZigZag” - ended up being the first character in the film cast. As the years went on, and the film’s plans changed, Price – who remained devoted to the project – would return periodically to re-record new lines. Apparently, it became one of his favorite projects, and Richard Williams and his team all agreed that ZigZag was their favorite character to animate. What’s interesting is that, with the different versions of the film later released, every character in the movie was recast over the years, with multiple performers playing the roles in different releases. For example, one of the two titular protagonists – Tack the Cobbler – was played by an unknown actor (doing an impression of Sean Connery) in the workprint, Sean Lively in one of the two Calvert cuts, and Matthew Broderick in the 1993 release. The one exception to this rule was Vincent as ZigZag: every version of the movie very wisely kept Vincent’s voice for the character, and it’s a good thing they did. Because while every version of the film has its pros and cons, ZigZag is consistently the best character in every version. The villain is not an especially complex character; he’s essentially Proto-Jafar (very literally, since some of the people who worked on Aladdin also worked on the Thief at earlier points in their career). Like Jafar, ZigZag is an evil magician and corrupt vizier, who seeks to marry the resident princess and take the throne. But it’s Price’s voice that makes the character so great to listen to, and the animation is always glorious to behold in action. One of the odd things about ZigZag is that nearly every single one of his lines are spoken in rhyme. There doesn’t seem to be any REASON for this, but I’m not complaining: I could listen to Vincent Price speaking in rhyme all day and be quite happy. No matter what version you watch of this movie, Price delivers every single time. Tomorrow, I present my penultimate pick, with my 2nd Favorite Vincent Price Performance!

[bllsbailey]

Election Officials' Warning: Widespread US Mail Woes May Disrupt Voting

Here we go again, will this be a repeat of of the 2020 election?

State and local election officials from across the country on Wednesday warned that problems with the nation's mail delivery system threaten to disenfranchise voters in the upcoming presidential election, telling the head of the U.S. Postal Service that it hasn't fixed persistent deficiencies.

In an alarming letter, the officials said that over the past year, including the just-concluded primary season, mailed ballots that were postmarked on time were received by local election offices days after the deadline to be counted. They also noted that properly addressed election mail was being returned to them as undeliverable, a problem that could automatically send voters to inactive status through no fault of their own, potentially creating chaos when those voters show up to cast a ballot.

The officials also said that repeated outreach to the Postal Service to resolve the issues had failed and that the widespread nature of the problems made it clear these were “not one-off mistakes or a problem with specific facilities. Instead, it demonstrates a pervasive lack of understanding and enforcement of USPS policies among its employees.”

The letter to U.S. Postmaster General Louis DeJoy came from two groups that represent top election administrators in all 50 states. They told DeJoy, “We have not seen improvement or concerted efforts to remediate our concerns.”

“We implore you to take immediate and tangible corrective action to address the ongoing performance issues with USPS election mail service,” they added. "Failure to do so will risk limiting voter participation and trust in the election process."

The Postal Service on Wednesday reiterated DeJoy's assurances that it's well positioned to swiftly deliver election mail despite being in the midst of a network modernization that has caused some delivery hiccups. Mail is currently being delivered in 2.7 days on average, officials said, but the Postal Service is still urging voters not to procrastinate.

“We are ready to deliver. We were successful in 2020 delivering a historic volume of mail in ballots; also in 2022 and will do so again in November 2024," Adrienne Marshall, director of Election Mail and Government Services, said in a statement.

The two groups, the National Association of Secretaries of State and the National Association of State Election Directors, said local election officials “in nearly every state” are receiving timely postmarked ballots after Election Day and outside the three to five business days USPS claims as the standard for first-class mail.

The letter comes less than two weeks after DeJoy said in an interview that the Postal Service was ready to handle a flood of mail ballots expected as part of this November's presidential election and as former President Donald Trump continues to sow doubts about U.S. elections by falsely claiming he won in 2020.

That year, amid the global pandemic, election officials reported sending just over 69 million ballots in the mail, a substantial increase from four years earlier.

While it's likely that number will be smaller now, many voters have embraced mail voting and come to rely on it. And both Democrats and Republicans have launched efforts to push supporters to vote early, either in person or by mail to “bank” their votes before Election Day on Nov. 5.

The letter went out on the day the first mailed ballots of this year's general election were being sent, to absentee voters in Alabama.

Postal Service officials told reporters last month that almost 98% of ballots were returned to election officials within three days in 2020, and in 2022, the figure was nearly 99%. DeJoy said he would like to inch closer to 100% this election cycle and that the Postal Service is better positioned to handle ballots than four years ago.

But officials in rural states have been critical of the Postal Service for years as it has consolidated mail-processing centers to cut its costs and financial losses.

In addition to being signed by the current and incoming presidents for both groups of election officials, the leaders of groups that represent local election officials in 25 states were listed.

The election officials warned that any election mail returned to an election office as undeliverable could trigger a process outlined in federal law for maintaining accurate lists of registered voters. That means a voter could be moved to “inactive” status and be required to take additional action to verify their address to participate in the election, the officials said in the letter.

Kansas Secretary of State Scott Schwab, the recent past president of the National Association of Secretaries of State, sent his own letter in recent days to DeJoy. He said nearly 1,000 ballots from his state's Aug. 6 primary election couldn't be counted because they arrived too late or without postmarks — and more continue to come in.

“The Pony Express is more efficient at this point," Schwab posted on the social media platform X in late August.

Schwab and other Kansas election officials also have said some ballots arrive on time but without postmarks, which keeps them from being counted under Kansas law. What's more, Schwab told DeJoy, local postal clerks have told election officials that they can't add postmarks later even if it's clear that the Postal Service handled the ballot ahead of the mail-in deadline.

Kansas will count ballots postmarked on or before Election Day if they arrive within three days. The Republican-controlled Legislature created that grace period in 2017 over concerns that mail delivery had slowed after the Postal Service shut down seven mail-processing centers in the state. That left much of the state's mail handled through larger centers in Denver, Amarillo, Texas, and Kansas City, Missouri.

Schwab has promoted the use of local ballot drop boxes for voting in advance, breaking with other Republicans who have suggested without evidence that they can be sources of fraud. Schwab has long said the boxes are more secure than the U.S. mail.

"Keep your ballot out of the hands of the federal government!” he advised voters in a post on X after the August primary.

In their letter Wednesday, election officials said colleagues across the U.S. have reported that Postal Service staff, from managers to mail carriers, are uninformed about the service's policies for handling election-related mail, give them inconsistent guidance and misdeliver ballots.

“There is no amount of proactive communication election officials can do to account for USPS’s inability to meet their own service delivery timelines,” the officials wrote. “State and local election officials need a committed partner in USPS.”

Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

[productsreviewings]

It seems superheroes aren't the one franchises audiences are on the lookout for. Knives Out, Rian Johnson's 2019 movie a couple of quick-witted detective who solves the homicide of a well-known thriller author, grossed over $300 million and helped enhance de facto lead Ana de Armas' profession to new heights (and likewise managed to characteristic a stellar post-Avengers: Endgame efficiency from Chris Evans). The standout performer, although, needed to be Daniel Craig, who performed the masterful detective (written about in The New Yorker, as characters performed by Toni Collette and Jamie Lee Curtis each observe) Benoit Blanc. Craig places on an entertaining Southern accent and sashays round as if he is a personality from a traditional whodunit.Naturally, the success of Knives Out meant there would undoubtedly be a sequel. After its preliminary theatrical run, Knives Out landed on Netflix on December 23. Benoit Blanc will reappear, this time making his method to a personal island owned by a billionaire performed by Edward Norton to resolve a homicide. The movie as soon as once more boasts a formidable solid with Craig and Norton joined by Dave Bautista, Janelle Monae, Kate Hudson, Kathryn Hahn, and lots of, many extra. It would be laborious for a movie like that to fail, particularly contemplating audiences already know what to anticipate: a great homicide, and a good higher story of how a wise detective solved it.So so long as Johnson and Craig need to make extra Knives Out movies, Benoit Blanc will proceed on. Audiences can sit up for extra conniving wealthy folks plotting one another's downfall, and an interesting standalone story set in a formidable location. And after the Glass Onion ending, we're fairly prepared for an additional thriller. This is what we learn about Knives Out 3, together with a launch date, solid, and trailer.NetflixWill There Be a Knives Out 3? Sure. Again in 2021, Netflix acquired the rights to each Knives Out 2 and 3. In an interview with Deadline, Johnson confirmed he is already been enthusiastic about the third movie, and as a consequence of a $400 million Netflix deal and constructive early reception of Glass Onion, there's an virtually 100% probability there will be one other film."I believe all people assumed I’d have a pair different random concepts—unrelated tasks—that I’ve been kicking round," Johnson informed the outlet. "However, actually, over the previous couple of months, essentially the most thrilling artistic factor to me proper now could be that third film. And so, I believe I’m going to hop proper into it."When Is Knives Out 3 Coming Out?There is not any set launch date for Knives Out 3, however contemplating Johnson has an total Netflix deal, there's much less concern in regards to the streaming service giving him the inexperienced gentle. The primary movie got here out in fall 2019, and the second is popping out in winter 2023, however that is additionally with that little Covid-19 factor occurring in between. It could be affordable to anticipate that Knives Out 3 may come out by 2025 on the newest—however probably even sooner. Who Will Be within the Knives Out 3 Forged?Christopher Jue//Getty PhotosThere is not any phrase but on who could possibly be solid within the subsequent Knives Out film, but it surely's doubtless the solid will likely be utterly totally different from the primary two movies consistent with the standalone thriller format. Very similar to a traditional whodunit, the one recurring character will likely be Benoit Blanc.However that makes room for some thrilling hypothesis. Nearly anybody may star within the subsequent movie and it is affordable to imagine large names will likely be hooked up. We would not be against, say, a pair Rian Johnson reunions. He directed "Ozymandias," essentially the most well-known episode of Breaking Unhealthy, so why not get Bryan Cranston or Aaron Paul concerned? You already know who else was in Breaking Unhealthy? Jesse Plemons.

Anybody in opposition to that? Johnson additionally labored with some main names in Star Wars: The Final Jedi, together with Mark Hamill, Adam Driver, John Boyega, Daisy Ridley, Kelly Marie Tran, Benicio del Toro, Laura Dern, and Oscar Isaac. We'd welcome any of them in a Knives Out movie with open arms. However we're not restricted to Rian Johnson reunions. Who says we won't have Henry Cavill? The Rock? Harrison Ford? Sigourney Weaver? Identify a well-known particular person, and so they could possibly be in it. Even higher in the event that they're the killer. Knives Out is an ensemble present that retains on giving.Milan Polk is an Editorial Assistant for Males's Well being who makes a speciality of leisure and life-style reporting, and has labored for New York Journal's Vulture and Chicago Tribune. #Benoit #Blanc #Return #Whodunit #Enjoyable #Knives

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 8)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut... a minor injury... a motorcycle... a teeny tiny bit of angst?? honestly it's just pretty normal aside from the smut

You actually fell asleep without anything too untoward happening, just kissing and cuddling and whispers that didn't make much sense to each other but still made your heart flutter each time.

Waking up, though, was another story entirely.

"Arăți frumos în timp ce dormi," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel his hard cock against your ass. You hummed and snuggled up closer to him, bathing in his warmth as much as possible.

“I swear I’ve never slept so well in my life,” you mumbled as you reached back to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you in my bed all the time so I can finally get some rest.”

He smiled against your skin, sucking on that spot just behind your ear that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Il vrei?” he asked huskily, and you didn’t even care what he was asking; when he said it like that, the answer was always ‘yes.’ You nodded happily, biting your lip, as he started to push your panties down and helped you arch your back so he could guide his cock to your entrance.

You still gasped and clutched at the sheets beneath you, you couldn’t help it even if it wasn’t your first time discovering how thick he was. It was just barely painful for one fleeting moment before it faded into that delightful fullness, his strokes long and slow as he sighed against your ear. “Seba,” you whimpered under your breath.

“Sunt mai bun decât el, nu-i așa? Nu te-a futut niciodată atât de bine,” he growled a little, holding you tighter. “Sper că știe. Sper că știe că am făcut dragoste cu tine și că sunt îndrăgostit de tine.”

You couldn’t be sure if it was his words in your ear or his arms so tight around your chest that made it a little hard to breathe, but something was so different about the way he was speaking now than you’d ever heard him before. It was difficult to describe— not quite angry, but so passionate it could almost seem that way. You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, too; he was clearly holding back, like there was a storm beneath his calm surface.

You wanted all of it. Turning back, you kissed him and pulled his hair a little, hoping it would get the point across. It seemed to, considering how he gasped and sped up, fucking you harder and deeper as you moaned a little louder than you meant to.

“Când a fost aici, am vrut să te sărut,” he continued in a low voice, speaking right against your parted lips. “Am vrut ca soțul tău să vadă. Am vrut să te arunc în patul ăsta și să te fac să țipi, pentru ca toată lumea să te audă. Am vrut să știe că sunt eu.”

“Yours,” you said before you could stop yourself, and thankfully you didn’t have to worry too much about the implications of it because he couldn’t understand what you meant. He grabbed your face anyways, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he stared into your eyes.

“A mea,” he purred, fucking you faster until you started to whine and arch your back harder.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered, but he nodded before you could finish, encouraging you with whispered words and a hand slipping down between your legs to rub your swollen clit. You cried out, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm, but he held fast and kept up the pace, sending you tumbling over the edge before you had really prepared yourself for it. Unintentionally, you held your breath for a few moments as it washed over you, the tension releasing finally with a long sigh.

The very moment you began the denouement from your peak, he pulled out and rolled you onto your back, slipping right back in as he slotted his body between your legs. You whimpered and gripped his shoulders, and he got right back to his pace— but this time your body couldn’t take as much of the force and so it began to rock the bed, his headboard slamming into the wall. At first neither of you cared until he glanced up and hissed, “rahat.”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and craning your head around to see he’d clearly damaged the wallpaper there. “Oops,” you giggled, “guess we should take a break and fix that—”

He pushed you back down onto the bed as you yelped, capturing you in a hungry kiss; one arm slipped under your shoulders, holding you tight, while the other reached up so his hand could grip the headboard and hold it still as he started to pound into you again. You moaned weakly and relaxed in his embrace, feeling the bed still rock slightly under you but much more interested in the feeling of his cock slamming right into the most sensitive and overstimulated spots inside your channel.

“Oh god,” you sighed as you couldn’t stop your head from falling back into the pillow, closing your eyes to dodge the way he stared down at you with an intensity that bordered on fury. He moved in to bite at your neck instead, and if you were any more in touch with reality you would’ve complained that you didn’t bring many clothes that would cover his bite marks, but you were much too lost in the sensation he was bringing you for that.

“Atât de bine, atât de bine,” he chanted with a growl, “voi veni… atât de aproape…”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please, Seba— yes, right there, oh fuck!”

You came again, technically, but it was nothing like the first time— more shallow but less brief, like the pleasure was spread thinner and wider, until you worried your vision would go completely black. He grunted loudly as he filled you, still thrusting roughly with each pump of his release into you, but finally he slowed and sighed, his breaths coming hard and fast as he let go of the headboard and held you tightly.

He seemed exhausted, honestly, and you laughed breathlessly as he collapsed on top of you. “You can’t be so worn out this early in the morning,” you scolded as you kissed his shoulder.

“Nu voi mai părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he groaned.

“At least let me up so I can shower!” you protested, trying to push his limp weight off of you and failing pitifully as you laughed.

“Nu, nici tu nu vei părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he cooed, covering your face in kisses as you laughed harder. Only when you defensively pinched his arm did he pull back and pull out, letting you slip out from under him.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised as kissed him on the cheek, dashing to the bathroom and getting one last glance at him shaking out his sore hand before you shut the door.

Chapter 38 done… only five more to go, if your outline was to be trusted (which it most certainly should not). Still, you were finally reaching the real height of the tension, the climax of the story likely to hit as soon as the next chapter.

But it wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you thought you would write when you sat down here months ago and began with page 1. In fact, it was better.

You sighed a little, looking away from the typewriter for the first time in maybe an hour or more, glancing out the window where the sun was starting to set and painting the whole countryside in an orange glow; but it wasn’t the only thing making the leaves change colors— fall was undeniably on the way, enough so that poor Sebastian was raking leaves already. And, because evil is a real and powerful force in this world, he had started wearing a shirt while working outside.

Not that it wasn’t still buckets of fun to watch him go: you found yourself leaning against the window frame to drink in the sight of him, smiling widely to yourself as he sighed and wiped his brow.

All of a sudden, he turned and caught you ogling, making him grin and you laugh with embarrassment. He waved at you, and you waved back, resigning to getting back to work for just a few more pages…

The creaking of the stairs made you realize someone was coming, but with Sebastian just outside it could only be Mrs. Alberti. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you ran to the closet to rifle through your sweaters, hoping to find something with a high neck. Nothing looked long enough, making you groan in frustration.

She knocked on the door and you jumped slightly. “One moment!” you called out to her, digging up a random scarf and throwing it around your neck to hastily cover the bruises Sebastian had left on you. “Yes, come in,” you finally sighed with relief as you threw yourself back into the chair.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Alberti smiled sweetly as she peeked through the crack in the door, “I just wanted to offer to cook dinner here tonight. I’m making a big recipe so I figured I might as well, unless you had your own plans.”

“No, that would be lovely,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“Just come downstairs in about, oh, fifteen minutes and it’ll be ready,” she explained.

“You don’t want any help in the kitchen?”

She scoffed a little. “From you?”

You chuckled at her brutal honesty. “Okay, point taken.”

“Sorry, dear, it’s just that I wouldn’t want your… Western sensibilities to muck up the recipe,” she defended.

“I can’t blame you,” you smirked. “I’ll be down in a quarter hour.”

She nodded and shut the door again, leaving you to unwrap the itchy scarf from your neck and let out a slow breath.

Of course, with an imminent deadline you couldn’t actually get any good work done, so you just read back over some older chapters and made a couple simple edits. All too soon, you checked the clock and realized you should go ahead and make your way to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into the entryway where the smell of Mrs. Alberti’s cooking emanated through the rest of the house. It brought back memories of when you were here with Michael and she cooked for the both of you. Those memories were wonderful once, then soured, but now you were coming to appreciate them again. Although, it was easier to enjoy them when you imagined the black eye your soon-to-be-ex was likely sporting now.

You took a seat at the table and let her serve you, even though it made you feel a little guilty; you knew she would never let you serve yourself when she was cooking.

“How’s your novel coming along, dear?” she asked as she took her own seat and you began eating.

“Well,” you began with a little sigh, “stories have a mind of their own, Mrs. Alberti. All this time I thought I was writing a thriller— something scary, gritty, maybe even tragic. But I’m coming up on the end of it and I’m realizing that all this time, I’ve been writing a romance.”

She smiled, glancing behind you to the doorway. “Yes, things have a funny way of turning out differently than we expect.”

Wondering what she was looking at, you turned to find Sebastian leaning against the wood frame, wiping his hands on a towel. “Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Sit down, Sebastian, have some dinner,” she offered to him as she stood up to pour him a new portion of soup.

He nodded and sat at the table, “multumesc,” he mumbled when she put a bowl in front of him.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, everyone eating their meals quietly. It was nice to have a moment of normalcy— your new normal— after such an eventful day previous.

“So,” Mrs. Alberti broke the silence unexpectedly, “you two had sex?”

You instantly spat out your sip of soup, making Sebastian give you a concerned look; you waved dismissively as if to say you were fine, though you coughed a couple times. “I… uhm— how did you—?”

“He was whistling while he gardened today,” she explained, “and you look the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“To be fair, I think the first thing is because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you added with a little laugh.

“And the second thing?”

“...at least partially because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you admitted.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled, “but don’t think I don’t see the way your shoulders aren’t so tense and you’re smiling all the time. I know a woman in love when I see one.”

“L-love?” you questioned instantly, choking on the word.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, almost a look of pity on her face, “did you not know? It’s all over your face.”

You took a slow breath and pondered your meal before taking another bite. “No… I knew,” you admitted, “I guess you just put it really bluntly.”

She smiled. “It’s how we do things in Hungary. You should be honest with him.”

“With what words?”

“Sounds like you don’t need them,” she smirked. “I’ll leave you two be, then. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

She bid Sebastian goodnight with a little wave, and he nodded back happily; with the back door shut as she headed to her own house, you two were alone again. He took a sip of his soup and you finally noticed the marks on his spoon-holding hand.

“Your hand…” you realized, pointing to it, remembering with burning cheeks how he got that injury.

“Ah,” he smiled, looking down at the purple knuckles and smiling as he rubbed them gently. “Un sacrificiu demn.”

After dinner, you picked up with some reading (so much more relaxing than writing, believe it or not) and Sebastian joined you for the same on the couch.

Just laying together like this— quiet, relaxed, and totally at peace— was igniting feelings inside you that you had gone without for so long that you’d forgotten they existed completely. Resting your head on his chest, between the unbuttoned halves of his shirt, you could hear his heartbeat and it was soothing yet invigorating somehow.

He held his book up over your head while you used one hand to hold yours open and read through the space between his chest and his arm. It wasn’t the most ergonomic position necessarily, and your arm was definitely getting tired, but it was worth it to be close to him in these little ways.

"Book?" he asked innocently after a long stint of silent reading, setting his own aside to look down at you.

You closed your book and looked back up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "The book I'm reading? It's good," you nodded (as much as you could without stabbing him in the sternum with your chin, that is).

"Nu, book ta," he clarified, poking your forehead, before making a motion like he was typing.

"My book!" you realized. "Yes, the book I'm writing, it's nearly done…"

Your heart started to sink inside your chest.

"And when it's done, I'll go back to London. Like I planned from the beginning. And it'll be published and I'll start from scratch at a new life… alone.”

You cleared your throat and looked away. “Ești în regulă?” he asked quietly, sounding concerned.

You shook yourself out of it, smiling back up at him. “Let’s go into the city tomorrow,” you decided. “I need some things, if I’m going to be staying longer…”

He seemed to appreciate that you were telling him something, but couldn’t determine what. “Nyíregyháza,” you explained, “let’s drive into the city.” You pantomimed a steering wheel to explain yourself better.

“Ah,” he nodded, “nu într-o mașină. Îmi luăm bicicleta.” He returned with the motion of steering a bike— and when he curled his fingers to rev the proverbial engine, you realized he meant a motorbike. “Motocicletă,” he smiled.

“You drive a motorcycle?” you realized with a little gasp.

“Da,” he grinned, a little more mischievous than before.

“Oh, you really are gonna be the death of me,” you laughed. “Let’s go see this bike of yours.”

He helped you up off the couch and escorted you to the shed across from the house, the last light of sunset just barely enough to illuminate the way. You knew he worked in here sometimes, but you never realized he was doing mechanic work— indeed there it was: a motorcycle, right by Mrs. Alberti’s car, clearly quite old but restored to decent condition. “Iată-o, fetița mea,” he announced as he raised his arms to present it to you.

“Wow, you’ve been working hard,” you realized as you looked around at all the parts and tools strewn about.

“Avea nevoie de un alternator nou și ceva de lucru în interiorul motorului, dar acum funcționează la fel de bine ca nou... dacă nu chiar mai bine,” he enumerated as he knelt down in front of it, grabbing a towel to rub a spot of dirt from the headlight. “Vrei să conduci acum?”

You tilted your head.

“Acum,” he repeated, standing up and pulling you closer, tilting his head back toward the bike. “Sa mergem acum.”

“You want to go for a drive now? It’s pretty late, I was about to go to bed,” you protested meekly.

“Haide,” he smiled, stepping back and pulling you with him. “Plimbare pe spate.”

He handed you a helmet that had been resting on one of the handlebars, and you dutifully put it on as he got on the bike and fiddled around with it for a moment, kicking out the kickstand and finding his balance before getting it to start with a roar that echoed around the shed. He beamed proudly, looking up at you. “Eh?” he prompted with a nod.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” you encouraged with a thumbs up.

“Ce mai face casca?” he asked, leaning forward to knock his fist on your helmet lightly, making you laugh.

“Yeah, it’s good,” you nodded.

“Atunci alătură-te mie,” he instructed as he patted the seat behind him. You took a quick breath and got on, wrapping your arms around him. “Mai strâns,” he mumbled, pulling your arms in to hold him tighter. You smiled and rested your head on his back, yelping slightly when the bike lurched forward and he steered you out of the shed and into the grass outside. He was very slow at first until he steered to the gravel road, at which point he instantly picked up speed until the wind whipped at your face. His unbuttoned shirt was flying in every direction, leaving him totally unprotected from the night air, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding fast as he took you down the road, hugging the turns letting the headlight illuminate only as much as he needed to see.

When you looked up, you could see the stars more clearly than ever. You sighed and hugged him tighter, amazed at how they didn’t move at all while the world on the ground flew by. It made sense, obviously, with them being millions of miles away, but it was jarring how different the speed of the world could look from different perspectives. And as exhilarating as it was to see the countryside roll by in a blur, you preferred the steady night sky; you didn’t want to think about this moment flying by, about the fleeting nature of all of this. You wanted to believe this would always be here, just like the stars. You wanted to focus on the things that would never leave you, the moments that would become lifelong memories, and not on the reality of how beautiful things are not usually permanent things.

“I love you,” you whispered against his ear, quiet enough for your words to be blown away into the night. A small tear left a hot trail on your chilled skin, blown back over your temple instantly by Sebastian’s acceleration.

In silence, you drove into the unknown with him, letting yourself forget about the rest of the world for just a little while longer. You deserved that.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I can’t believe I’m staying true to my word and posting it before the year is over. My self imposed deadline was met, yey me!!

A little heads up for those who read my stuff: January will be a tricky month for me — I still have one exam left — so I don’t know if I’ll be able to post. Then there’s the acosf release, and I plan to avoid being in social media (aka tumblr, twitter) until I’ve read it at least two times lol. I’ll try to write in any spare time that I have, but I’m sorry in advance.

Now, let’s end 2020 with style!! I hope you enjoy the new chapter and wish y’all a good 2021 💜

In which she makes a friend, Part Five

Nesta woke up to soft knocking on her door.

She groaned in her pillow, wanting nothing more than to go back sleep. She was not used to waking up so early — the sun had barely risen on the sky — and she’d had a poor night of sleep, her latest nightmare still too vivid in her mind.

Nesta had a lot of those. Nightmares. Before, it was of Mandray. Of being beneath him again. Of not being able to scape. After being kidnapped by Hybern, they were about Elain. Of failing time and time again to avoid her sister being thrown into that blasted Cauldron.

Once the war had come and gone, it got worse. She’d dream of Elain in that camp, chained near the Cauldron. Would dream of Feyre failing to rescue their sister. Would dream of both of them dying while Nesta was unable to protect them. Another failure that’d hunt her through all of her miserable immortal life.

And she’d dream of him. Of his wings being broken and his screams piercing her ears, her soul. Of Hybern killing him in front of her eyes while she was held down by the evil king’s power. And once she got free, once she blasted that bastard to nothingness, she’d find herself in world without him. A world where she lived with a big nothing inside her.

Last night, however, had been different. She had been dreaming of failing Elain and Feyre again when suddenly she heard a voice. His voice, talking in that melodic and enthralling language, his voice a soft caress that eased her troubles. But as soon as she felt herself calming down, Nesta felt him go away. And so she desperately asked for him to stay with her. At least in her dreams she’d be less proud and afraid to say what she wished to. What she wished she had said to him two months ago.

Don’t go. Stay.

And in her dream he stayed. It had been so realistic that Nesta swore she could still feel his warm calloused hand against her skin, smell his scent, his voice a lover’s caress in her ears and—

She got up from the bed quickly, shaking her head. No good would come from going down that path. She willed her heart to behave and stay quiet in the cage she had locked it into. Wall after wall being risen, being toughened. Sometimes, feeling nothing was better then feeling too much or even anything at all.

Nesta heard knocking again, and quickly discarded her nightgown for the Illyrian leathers. She had struck a promise to train with Kaelin before the girl’s morning training and Nesta hated to be late.

“I’m awake, you don’t have to tear down the door Kaelin” Nesta said, opening her door and almost hitting her face in a leather clad chest.

Cassian was the one knocking on her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Good morning to you too sweetheart” he gave her a teasing grin “Last that I checked, I live here”

“One would wonder if that is true, given your long absence” she replied, knowing she had hit her mark when she saw a muscle twitching on his jaw “Where’s Kaelin?”

“Training has been rescheduled. The younglings start earlier now so those preparing for the Blood Rite can have more time on the training areas” Cassian managed to say.

“I see” Nesta was thinking about going back to sleep when the male in front of her interrupted her thoughts.

“Would you care to have breakfast with me?”

She opened her mouth to dismiss him when she caught the look on his eyes. Not angry anymore at her earlier jab, but anxious. She had never seen Cassian so unsure before, so difficult to read. It was as if his feelings were all over the place.

“It wouldn’t hurt to eat with him” she thought, recalling her dream.

“You are cooking” Nesta declared, moving past him to the kitchen.

“As you wish, your Highness” he did a mocking bow and followed her.

Nesta eyed the tall male in front of her. He cooked with expertise and seemed completely comfortable in the ambient, humming while he mixed some eggs in the frying pan.

He was so... domestic. Nesta almost smiled imagining him with a silly apron, an image so at odds with his usual scary General appearance.

“I talked with Kaelin yesterday” Cassian said after some time.

“And?” Nesta asked, raising an eyebrow

“He’s been training with you. And I was wondering....” he placed the food in front of her, clearing his throat “I was wondering if I could train you. Both of you. Kaelin is not so advanced with his training and there’s also the matter of—”

“The matter of what” she snapped

“Your powers” he fidgeted with a knife, twirling it on his hand, not scared to cut off a finger by accident “I don’t know where you were with Amren in regards to them, but it’s also important to have them in sync with any self defence moves you can learn”

“My powers are none of your concern”

It was a lie. Her classes with Amren had just grazed the surface of what she knew she could do. But she was scared of them. Of what she could do. Her powers were a wild beast that was she forced to live with, a constant reminder of the life she lost.

She hated it.

However, Cassian was right. If she truly wanted to be capable of defending herself — of defending Kaelin were her secret to be discovered — she’d have to accept his help.

“We can train after breakfast” she nonchalantly said, stabbing a piece of the scrambled eggs on her plate “I’m already changed either way”

“Brilliant” Cassian smiled, his whole face seeming to lighten up like the sky after a storm “Prepare yourself to be challenged sweetheart. I’m not one to go easy on my students”

~•~

Cassian did not lie. He didn’t go easy on her. Her whole body ached and she almost regretted her choice to not stay in the cabin, rereading one of her books.

But she had places to go.

“You’re late”

“I’m not late Esmée” Nesta stated, grabbing an apron by the tent’ side and moving to one of the tables “I’m exactly on time”

“You’re thirty seconds late. That’s enough to lose the boiling point for a healing potion and make it a poison instead” Esmée, the chief healer of Windhaven huffed “If I say you’re late then you’re late.”

Nesta only dipped her head and started to work. Esmée might come out as a grump and mean female, but she was only serious about her work, a work which left her with no time for idle talk or sugarcoated pleasantries.

Nesta liked her just fine.

Kaelin had been the one to present her to the healers. Once her period was over and it was safe for her to leave the cabin without someone noticing the change in her scent, Kaelin had taken Nesta in a tour through Windhaven. Nesta did not know anything else except the area around Cassian’s cabin, which included a solitary trail to the forest and the outskirts of the village.

Kaelin appeared to know everyone they passed by. The younglings — who were yet too young to train — happily waved at her when they passed, as did some females who were working. On the other hand, it was different with the males. They eyed Kaelin with distaste and something akin to betrayal in their eyes. Nesta had yet to ask Kaelin why. Was it because she was walking with Nesta, an outsider who not only was High Fae but also the sister in law of their High Lord? She had tucked the information inside herself, analysing everything and everyone they met.

And it was when they were nearing the end of the tour that they had come upon the healers tent. Nesta recalled helping them in the war, bringing buckets of water, doing bandages for the wounded and holding the most serious ones down while they were patched up. She had felt like she had a purpose back then. Like she was not a burden.

She tried not think how it also helped her take her mind off the fearless Illyrian who leaded the troops, leaving only dead bodies with whoever met his blade.

Esmée had remembered her, as did some of the other females that worked alongside her. They had not eyed Nesta with pity or distaste, something she was used to in Velaris. No, they simply gave her a nod of recognition and went back to work, mixing herbs, cutting straps of bandages and tending to patients.

“Are you going to help or will you stay all day there?” Esmée had snapped “If you want to, grab an apron and come here. We need more jambu to be ground so that fella over there can stop whining”

Kaelin had come still beside Nesta, fearing she had been insulted by the healers harsh words. But she simply grabbed an apron and rolled her dress’ sleeves.

“Which one is jambu?”

And from that day onwards Nesta began to help the healers in any way she could, going after her training with Kaelin in the morning and coming back in the late afternoon. Kaelin always walked her back, stopping at the tent after her training.

“It’s not safe for females to wander alone” the young girl had informed Nesta “Specially when it starts to get dark”

Nesta knew better than to dismiss Kaelin’s words. She knew what males were capable of doing to those they thought inferior to them.

“Charming as ever, don’t you agree?” Jacira said, appearing beside Nesta.

“Lovely” she mumbled back, the corners of her lips almost raising in a smile.

Jacira was one of the least shy healers around Nesta. She had beautiful dark green eyes, which contrasted with her dark raven hair and dark brown skin. She also had a very sharp and curious mind, and was teaching Nesta all she knew about what being a healer was like.

Nesta liked to think she had found another friend in Jacira.

“I see the General has come back”

“Really? I didn’t notice” Nesta replied, busying herself with her task.

“He had been gone longer than usual this time for the inspection” Jacira whispered “Word says it’s because some serious trouble has risen in other camps, specially Ironcrest”

Jacira was also a shameless gossiper. In the two weeks Nesta had started to work with her, she knew practically everything about anyone that lived in Windhaven. She said to herself that no harm would come to listen to Jacira’s blabbering. She was simply gathering information as to not stay in the dark.

It was not gossip. It was only intelligence material about the Illyrians in Windhaven.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Cassian had not spoken a word about it with her.

“I don’t know. I only know that the camp lords are whispering between them, and seem to be anxious about the Blood Rite.” she got closer to Nesta “In my opinion, they want it to arrive fast so any feuds can be resolved there”

For the Blood Rite was not only the chance for the Illyrians to prove their worth as a warrior, but a bloodbath. An event that allowed matters to be resolved without the laws of the war camps binding them.

“More work and less talk ladies” Esmée hissed at them “Those tonics won’t be done by themselves”

“Yes, m’am” Jacira replied, batting her eyelashes innocently, making Nesta snort. That girl had no fear of danger.

They kept to their work, Jacira talking when she thought Esmée was not looking, Nesta saying something now and then. The time she spent among the healers was precious to her. It brought a sense of normality back to her life. Even the wild beast inside her gave her a time out, seeming to purr whenever she dedicated herself to chopping herbs and making tonics or healing potions, the scent of all the ingredients calming her.

But the thought that something was amiss among the Illyrians bothered her. It was something that stayed on her mind all day.

Nesta was quieter than usual at dinner — she caught Cassian glancing worriedly at her when he thought she was not looking — the gears inside her head turning and going through every possible outcome.

She went to sleep still thinking about it, and came to a conclusion.

Something bad was coming.

And she would get Cassian to tell her whatever it was.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13

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[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (13/17)

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

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

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Every year, for a few weeks at a time, life had a tendency of stopping.

And it had been following that same pattern for the past few years.

For Levi, the first signs of the freeze came when the last few red leaves fell to the ground, revealing the branches underneath. The trees were bare, the wind chill was cruel and the sky was constantly grey.

But the freeze was only a prelude that accompanied something much more daunting.That period of time in particular manifested as some sort of a limbo. That painful limbo where every student was suddenly reminded that maybe taking five classes at once was a bad idea.That limbo were suddenly all students ever had to think about were those five classes they were taking. Yet for some reason, everyone still found a reason to be stressed.

No training. No club activities.

Just deadline after deadline. Group work after group work. Exam after exam.

Of course it would be stressful. Since for many people, those last few submissions leading up to the holidays were always the most decisive. Making that deadline, making something of quality in that deadline always spelled the difference between honors and mediocre, a C for a degree or a failing F. Especially since for the first few months of school anyway, the urgency never hit.

Levi never had been one of those students gunning for honors. The regular tournaments and the twice a day training and the human need for some rest afterwards always meant that Levi was only barely passing most classes while every now and then scoring a B in one.

He was one of those people who thought of the final few weeks of school as some sort of a messiah, some last chance to pull a D to a C or if he were lucky a B. And those periods in limbo blurred so easily into hazy memories of sleepless nights, irrationally strong hate over some particularly shitty groupmate and those few hour long exams where Levi could have sworn his heart hadn’t even been beating.

He hadn’t expected his senior year to be any different. But on the days leading up to finals week, he started to realize he had fewer exams, a little more papers than usual. A side effect of being a senior in a non science course.

It could have been the luck of the draw maybe but his teachers had been kind and had requested he just send everything over.

Two requirements and One thesis. And Levi could always do it from the comfort of the study hall in the dorm.

The study hall was a medium sized building, most frequented by dormers.

One of its most notable characteristics was the window wide enough that anyone studying would be almost incapable of ignoring the scenery just outside. And in winter, the grey sky, the bare trees and the glass of the window that would fog up at the lightest caress were the main constants of the scenery. And even if it was impossible to ignore for most students, Levi didn’t think too much of it that winter in particular. Since the days leading up to deadlines, Hange had been right next to him.

There were those few moments in between studying when he would allow himself some reprieve. Picking what to focus on had never been a challenge. The dreary early winter scenery felt chilly even from the comfort of the heated study hall yet without even trying and Hange emitted a warmth that had resonated more powerfully than any feelings and preconceived notions rooted in his four years in a bubble. Her hums, her thoughtless mutters even her unfocused brown eyes the few times she looked up to give herself a quick rest, without even trying, they had felt warm and welcoming.

Maybe because just those small actions had been more than enough for Levi to feel very much connected to someone. For the first winter in his college life, Levi wasn’t alone

Although with the long hours studying, they never went too far beyond exchanging some few words, engaging some small talk. When their brains were completely fried, there wasn’t much else they could discuss anyway.

But they didn’t need to talk. Levi already felt it --- as he allowed the scratching of pen and paper and the familiar clack of the keyboard to keep him company in the stark silence of the study hall--- she had done her part to make that early a winter warmer than it usually was. She had done her part as well to make that limbo, that harsh in-between classes and holidays, almost enjoyable, a significant improvement from that limbo he had always braced himself to power through, every single year.

As he became a little more aware of her constant company, sometimes he could imagine the limbo had never been there, and it had all been a faint memory, a faint illusion of his life before.

And all Hange had to do was be there. Even when she was silent, highlighting line after line, cross checking journals and study guides, Hange managed to find a way to still be present.

When it came to studies, Hange’s case was a stark contrast to his, more urgent and more demanding, almost admirable. She had a full load and although Levi never did memorize her schedule, he figured it out soon enough having spent the days leading up to the exams cooped up with her in the study hall.

Exam after exam after exam.

And Hange was never without her laptop, her printed out study guides and her ebook reader. And she had been that way, all the way until the last day of exams, when the lobby of the dorm had emptied out, the hallways to his room a lot less busy and when Levi was particularly less self conscious about the awkward way he pulled his injured self up the stairs to his dorm room every night.

Everyone had gone home for the holidays already. And soon enough, it wasn’t such an odd sight to see just her familiar shape alone in the study hall.

The first day she didn’t have study guides felt like a big change.

He picked her out so easily, especially when there was nobody else hunched over their own notes. And Levi who had sat with her every single day in the study hall couldn't help but celebrate such a tiny development. “You’re done with exams?” He asked as he settled on the chair in front of her.

“One final paper,” Hange said, not looking up from her laptop.

“And then winter break?”

“And then I can finally work on my thesis.”

“Any ideas?”

“Yeah, some.”

“So you’ll probably be working during the break huh?”

Hange sat back on the chair and crossed her arms. “You know, I’m lucky enough the department is still allowing me to make a thesis even without a proposal presentation."

"At least you get to graduate on time."

"I know. This is just a weird place to be when at the start of the year, I was gunning for some best thesis award. Now I’m the only student in my block who’s disqualified. And on top of that, I’m starting from scratch again.”

“You could have continued from the last one.”

Hange closed her laptop and rested her chin on her hand. “I didn’t pick that topic because I wanted to. I just felt it was the most practical option. And when I consulted my parents, they said that was the best option to save time.”

“And it was.”

“But it felt weird. I couldn't bring myself to ask you the right questions or check your knee everyday. You were constantly in pain, sad, for a while you might even have been depressed…” Hange trailed off. She looked outside at the scenery on the other side of the window.

Levi could almost see the grey reflected on her eyes.

Hange continued. “I thought back to how you fucked up your knee and I realized I was reckless. When you scraped your knee I was there, then I pushed you to jump for my thesis and when I fucked up your life… and you never felt it even a little weird or annoying that I would be getting something out of it?" She looked at him as if expecting him to say something.

"I made the decision to push myself. Not you."

“Levi, please be honest. did I pressure you?” That was the moment, Hange chose to meet his gaze. She had a pleading look in her eyes that only made it difficult for Levi to reach within him for him some sort of a response.

He had the answer and it was so easily within reach. Yes, she did pressure him. But was that something he would have wanted to admit?

And when he started to ask more questions, he soon started to ask another more important question, was it Hange who had pushed him to do it? Or was it this image of Hange he was projecting onto her?

“You didn’t pressure me,” Levi said.

“Then why were you working so hard? Why did you push yourself?”

“Because… I felt pressured.”

“If not me, then by what? What pressured you?”

“Myself?” And by extension, everything else maybe? Captain Levi? Commander Hange Zoe? He added to himself. But he wasn’t crazy enough to say it.

“But here’s the thing, I could have sworn you were much calmer than that during the competitions. Actual competitions. But then since we met, ever since you scraped your knee, you were pushing yourself more than usual, you were much more tense. What were you working so hard for?”

“I pressured myself.”

“For what?” Hange’s eyes were boring holes into him. “I’m not your coach. Hell, I’m not an arbiter. I’m not an Olympic team scout. All I needed was your data for a thesis nobody was probably going to read anyway.”

“Don’t you have a paper to finish?”

“The final deadline is next week and I’m more than halfway done already. I have more than enough time to talk,” Hange said. Her face morphed into something a little more desperate. “Levi, I wanna know, what did I do wrong?”

At that moment, Levi froze. His eyes were completely fixed on hers, and he could only watch the way she started to study him, as if searching for an answer in the way he sat, the way he leaned back on the chair, the way he gripped the corner of the table. At once, Levi had become aware of all of his nervous ticks.

The tension in the room was thick enough at least for Levi to tell, that he wasn’t the only one feeling the discomfort. He willed himself to lean back further, get a wider view of her and he noticed the subtle signs, her hands were shaking, her lips were letting out a hint of a tremble.

Hange seemed to be in a similar state, self conscious and nervous. Maybe even ready to repent for whatever she had believed she had done wrong. As if she almost wanted to hear insults, criticisms and she even seemed ready to take a punch in the face.

But Levi’s thoughts were far from that.

The day they met, she had introduced herself and had approached him like they were close friends already.

The night they met, she had hid in the dark, watching silently while he trained. That night, she had stitched up his knee.

And in that process, she made him remember things.

You made me remember things.

And those things were what had pushed him to ‘tense up,’ to ‘work hard’ and to impress her.

But really was it anything wrong?  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Levi said. “I told you, I made the decision to push myself on my own.”

“But what did I do to push you?”

“Do you have to be doing something to push me? What if I just met you? And I thought, I wanna help her write her thesis then things happened, then overtime I realized I’m enjoying this.”

Hange shrugged. “You pitied your biggest fan enough to give her a freebie huh?”

“I said ‘I’d gladly stay by your side.’” I don’t think people give promises like that as freebies.”

“But you just met me.”

“You haven’t even met me and you were already keeping pictures of me like some sort of stalker.”

Hange only smiled at such an accusation. Within the few months, they had gotten used to a little banter after all. “Are you just humoring me?”

“No. I’m not. I’m happy to have met you and I said it then, I’ll say it again. If you want me to, I’ll stay by your side.”

“It’s just weird, okay. You have a lot more fans than you think you do. And you get friendly with me, some frumpy nerdy fan who followed your tournaments like crazy….”

“What other explanation would you like for this? Soulmates? Fate?”

“I don’t believe in any of those,” Hange said. “I don’t wanna believe in it. I like to think that I just made the decision to reach out to you. And I just got lucky you decided to reciprocate.”

“Then I got lucky you reached out too, Hange. This goes both ways.”

“I guess it does.” Hange closed her laptop and looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry if this came out of nowhere. With my last exam over, this was the only time I got to think about it again. But you know, thanks for staying here with me even if I was ignoring you half the time.”

“I knew you had a lot to make up for and besides, I’m fine just quietly sitting by.”

Hange’s features softened into a warm smile. “Me too. I’ll make this up to you. If I get this paper written by Friday. I’ll submit then. After that, you wanna go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to work on your thesis?”

“Your birthday is on the 25th right? But I wanna do something for Christmas so I’m thinking... what if we have an early birthday celebration and we do something else for Christmas?

“You know that’s my birthday Hange, I get to decide how I wanna spend it.”

“But what if it’s my treat?”

“It’s still my birthday.”

Hange gave him a long look. “Okay, what about this? I’m hoping to use your stories for references to my thesis. And I wanna make it up to you… I’ll treat you out on Saturday for that then after, you decide what you wanna do on your birthday.”

“I never said we couldn’t do that for my birthday.”

“Well if you were just more direct with things we wouldn't have to bounce off ideas like this back and forth. Are we celebrating your birthday early or not?”

“And besides I never even said anything about you using my stories for your thesis.”

“Just answer the questions one at a time Levi,” Hange pressed. She checked her watch. “And...I’m meeting someone in a few minutes.”

“Before I answer, what’s your thesis about?”

Hange looked ready to pull her hair out in frustration. “I don’t know yet but I might use it. Anyway, if you’re not gonna answer me, then we treat this Saturday as my celebration for your birthday. Deal?”

“Yes to the thesis. Yes to the early birthday. Are you happy?”

Hange let out a loud sigh of exasperation. “There. Why did that take so long to get out of you?”

Levi ignored that question. “So when are you going to tell me what your new thesis is about?”

“Maybe during your actual birthday? If you bestow on me the privilege of celebrating such an important occasion with you?“ Hange suggested. She quickly gathered her things and dumped it into her canvas bag. Her movements were wilder, messier than usual. So messy Levi found himself cringing at such a sight. He was fairly certain Hange had done that on purpose.

He only confirmed it a second later, as Hange bolted towards the door and gave him the most smug face.

Levi was sure, if he wasn’t so injured, he probably would have bolted right after her. And he was certain he would have caught up to her.

***

“Nice hoodie. The color green really suits you,” Hange called in a way of greeting.

There were no hi’s or hello’s and she hadn’t given one in a while. Yet for some reason, such an unconventional greeting still had Levi raising eyebrows. “Is this your way of making up for a few days ago?”

Hange shrugged. “What if I just wanted to compliment your new hoodie?”

“For one, this is not a new hoodie,” Levi said. “Besides we didn’t separate on the best of terms last Wednesday and you didn’t even reply to my messages after.”

“Well, I finished my paper and I started my thesis… And hey... I did leave you some messages.”

Levi was sure he didn’t receive any messages. He did not receive any notifications for sure. On top of that, he had taken the liberty as well to check back to his inbox every hour or so. Just to make sure his notifications were actually working

But still just in case he was mistaken, he checked his phone under her confused yet watchful gaze only to find that in fact he was right, she didn’t send any messages. He opened up to their untouched chat box and showed it to her.

“Did you check your document?”

“My document?”

“The one with the soldier and titan stories.”

“Why the hell would you leave messages there?”

“I was catching up to it okay.” Hange’s lips curled up into a smile as she spoke. “And I really enjoyed it. A lot. I left so many comments there. I thought you’d reply.”

Levi looked away guiltily. He turned off the notifications on the document a few weeks back. He liked to blame finals week for the inactivity. Yet with all his final papers completed and submitted, he was still making a conscious effort to ignore that document.

But did he want to tell her that? For a while maybe he did consider telling her he had no intention of touching it again.

But Hange continued talking. “When Commander Hange told Captain Levi to live with him in the woods… Wow you know you described it pretty well, I could almost imagine what was happening. Actually, now that I think about it, I think I managed to dream up something like that. But why did you have to end like that?” Hange twisted her face into a little too serious of an expression. “Shoot or listen it’s up to you.” Hange repeated, an attempt at mimicking Captain Levi for sure, but it was too comical given the context of the tirade.

Shoot or listen it’s up to you.

What if Captain Levi got shot? Before Levi could speak up though, Hange pressed on.

“Now that exams are over… are you gonna write more?”

Levi didn’t reply. Or at least, he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize a reply. Maybe he had brought his head up then down, in the form of some small nod. Maybe it could have been just him looking up to see the crowds making their way to the train station.

The train station closest to their university was one of the busiest ones in town. Even a little past eight on a Saturday morning, there were still crowds large enough that navigating through them still required some effort.

And whether Hange had seen that nod, or whether she had been too distracted by the buying of tickets and the navigating of crowds, Levi never thought too much about it. He brushed the thought aside as soon as she herself abandoned that topic of conversation and the question she asked only a second ago.

And she didn’t push that topic of conversation any longer. Even after they arrived at the platform, even after they boarded the train.

Train rides were always quiet. No one really ever started conversation in trains, instead passing the times with their phones on silent mode, save for a few children who still weren’t completely familiar yet with that unwritten rule

At that moment though, Levi was thankful. Hange was silent. He was silent. And he had a little more mind space to decide how to navigate the topic of his story.

Just in case she did ask again.

***

“Question, so is that the type of green that you imagined for the survey corps cloak?” Hange asked, pinching the sleeve of his hoodie.

Levi looked down at his hoodie. The hoodie was of a dark green color, and he only had to take a glance to put two and two together. “Yes it is.”

“I thought it would be. You know this is the same green I’m imagining.”

Levi smiled. He met Hange’s gaze and even when Hange had looked away, making her way to the park entrance, he made an effort to follow her gaze.

“You thought this far huh?” Levi asked, as she stopped at the turnstile and inserted her ticket then his ticket in.

Hange grabbed a flyer on the way out and looked back at him. “It was a good read. I really felt like I was in the story. And you know, it might sound weird but I kinda really saw myself in her. You know that passion she felt, with the titans and all… I think I’ve felt something similar back when I was still winning competitions when I was younger. I did loads of research back in high school.”

Levi only had to look back at the long hours he had spent stalking her on article after article to confirm that she was telling the truth.

Hange’s rambles about her research in high school though soon faded into some good background noise. He remembered some points, he forgot some. Then, his main focus though had been the green scenery that welcomed him as soon as they exited the train station. The station exit had opened up to a park, a large park with no end in sight. Only flowers and shrubs that lead up to trees with the mountains and horizons at the back of it all.

“When I was reading your story, they talked about what lay beyond the walls… For some reason, I imagined this park. I saw it on a documentary a few years back, streams that seem like they stretch out for eternity, miles and miles of mountains and forests. They said, when you step out of the station, it would feel like another world. And when I thought about what to do for your birthday...” Hange trailed off as she stepped forward into the main path. “I thought… why not show you the scenery I imagined? Maybe I could contribute to your story, help inspire you to write. I hope this view didn’t disappoint.”

It doesn’t. It’s beautiful.

Thinking about it, of course there had been a little more people exiting the train at that station. Of course the station would be much larger and a little more exquisite than other stations.

The view proved to be very much worth the three hour travel and the struggle of changing trains.

They had taken a regional train, then had switched to a few local ones. And looking out the window of the train then, Levi had appreciated how the landscape quickly changed almost blending across one another, the bare trees which almost had a grey tint to them, had gradually shifted to dull bare rice fields. Somewhere in between, the evergreen trees made their entrance, slowly then all at once, in some strange sort of way that Levi was never able to pick out the exact moment that he was sure, the evergreen trees were there to stay for good.

The snow had yet to fall there, and with the evergreen trees and the moss and lichens that littered the paths, Levi could at least pretend it wasn’t winter yet.

Green after all, was a very warm color.

Hange opened her map and leaned a little closer towards Levi so he could get a good look. The map was all green, decorated with markers, mini mountains, rest houses, water refill areas, toilets and picnic sites. There were flower symbols, marked by season. And skirting the circumference of the map were three circles: a large green one, inside it a red one, inside it a yellow one, a very small circle that covered two picnic areas and one flower area occupied the center and next to it a bright red arrow marker ‘You are here.’

“So, I know you wouldn’t be able to handle too much of a walk yet, so we could stick to something short? Just skirt around this area…” She traced the smallest circle along the park and turned to him expectantly.

“What do you wanna see?” Levi asked.

“Anything really. I’m just happy to be able to visit a park like this.”

“No, really Hange. What do you wanna see?” Levi pressed. He planted his bum leg on the ground and stepped forward with it with a little more finesse as if to prove a point. I can walk at least. “If I wasn’t injured right now, where would you have pulled me to go?”

There was some progress at least. He was surprised to see that he could put some extra weight on his knee without so much as a wobble. The stiff brace was probably doing all the work then but Levi was confident he could get a good number of steps across before tiring out his body.

“I’m sure we both don’t want another hospital visit.,” Hange warned.

“I’m fine. I’ve had enough physical therapy lessons and I managed to put some weight on my knee already. Even without the brace..”

For a second, there was a glimmer of hope in Hange’s eyes. She blinked it back before Levi could be sure. “I’m fine with the shortest path,” she said. “This blue one.”

“Are you sure? All we’re gonna see if we follow this path are two picnic sites, a mini forest and one portapotty. You’ll be disappointed.”

“But Levi, what if you get injured again?”

“Didn’t you say this was my birthday treat?”

“We can always go again---”

“In the summer? After you finish your thesis?” Levi raised one eyebrow at her in accusation. “We endured a three hour train ride for this. Let’s make the most of it.”

“Then… which path do you wanna follow?” Hange asked.

Levi gently placed one finger on the green one and traced it. He had only gone half way before Hange pulled the map away.

“No way. That’s at least a five kilometer hike,” Hange said.

Levi pulled the map back gently and pointed at the markers. “Come on, the landscape here seems pretty flat and there’s a forest here and a river. And if we walk ahead here... I’m guessing you wanna see the mountain? They built an observatory there,” Levi said. “Didn’t you say you wanted to know how it feels like to fly?”

Hange’s face turned a little red, her eyes looking a little unfocused as she followed the map with her eyes and looked ahead at the scenery. When Levi squinted, he could tell the peak which stood out from the rest, the small lump that stuck out on one of the hills, a little higher than the rest.

“You didn’t get to do this a lot when you were a kid huh?” Levi asked. He didn’t intend it to be a provocation at first. But when Hange folded her map and took a deep breath, he was grateful for those last few words that popped into his head then.

“My parents didn’t really like taking vacations in the countryside,” Hange admitted.

“One round around there, maybe we’ll go all the way up to the observatory and back,” Levi said. “And if my knee starts hurting, I promise, I’ll tell you.”

Hange’s lips curled up into a playful smile. “If I need to, I’ll carry you back.” She walked ahead, gesturing for him to follow. Levi was almost tempted not to follow. That little playful of an offer and the uncertainty that came with Levi wondering a little too hard about whether she was kidding or nothing, had him entertaining the idea of turning his back on her for a second.

Just to mess with her.

The view had been much stronger then, the way the sun shone on Hange and reflected on her glasses had been too beautiful of a view. It had been a while since he’d seen that much green.

And it wouldn’t be that way for the next three months at least.

As he followed her to the path that followed that large green sign, Levi started to think, maybe that experience might just be worth the embarrassment of a piggy back ride on the way back.

***

Man down!

Hey! Are you alive?

“So the river must be pretty near here huh...” Hange said, not looking up from the map.

Levi had heard the sound of the rushing water stream before she had mentioned it. Whether it had been a river or a stream, he didn’t bother trifling with such detail. The trees that lined the main path, and the sound of rushing water had brought him somewhere else, to another time.

“Wanna see the river?” Hange grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards a smaller path that had been unnoticeable from his peripherals.

As Levi looked to the right, to the shrubs that opened up into an empty space, he noticed the remnants of a path almost completely concealed by shrubs.

“Why would you wanna see the river?”

Hange shrugged. “We don’t get to see this much nature often right? If we follow it…. Maybe we can see a waterfall at the end?”

Levi narrowed his eyes. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen that much nature since he had gone home for a visit more than a few years ago. Maybe that was why the greens and the landscapes had been oddly fascinating.

And Hange. Hange was a lot more entranced than he was. He could have sworn he had lost her a few times to the trees that lined the path.

“We take a look,” Levi said. “Then we go back on the path. I don’t want us getting lost here.”

Hange was too engrossed in her surroundings and then, her eyes had looked a little too wild. But the moment Levi had mentioned that last part, Hange twisted her face into a pout, a pout of defeat at least. “You’re right. Let’s just check out the river here and go back the way we came.” She clutched his hand, gripping a little tighter than usual. “Your knee is still okay right?”

Levi nodded. There could have been some lie to the reaction but it was still too small of a lie for him to need to justify anything. His knee ached for sure. It was an ache dull enough though for Levi to clock it to the tightness of his brace.

To his relief, the river was only less than a two minute walk away. It had seemed farther due to the dense forest that lined the main path. But the density could have been an illusion as well. It opened up to a treeless plain, just a good few meters of grass and beyond that was a river that harbored such a violent flow of water.

Both violent and peaceful, Levi soon realized. As if it was the river’s business to just run hurriedly towards its destination while at the same time crashing towards the shore.

“The river I imagined was a lot like this,” Hange spoke up.

“What river?”

“The one in your story.” Hange answered matter-of-factly. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

Levi wondered if his face showed any sign of that little charade. He had recognized it after all, long before Hange had even mentioned it. It turned out, only the rushing sound of water was enough for him to recall it so vividly.

The view in front of him only added salt to the wounds he just recently realized he had.

Phantom wounds. Even the word phantom couldn’t really justify how it felt then. Back he had written it, he could empathize for sure. Then and there, the view in front of him, had him touching his right eye, just to make sure it was still there and soon after, he wiggled his two fingers just to make sure they were still attached.

“Commander Hange found him in a river like this right? Did you imagine this kind of river too?”

“Maybe,” Levi muttered. He didn’t think too far as to the width of the river or the shape of the blades of grass below. The rushing of the river, the tone of Hange’s voice were enough at least to make him realize that could have very much been the river banks she had found him on. “Commander Hange would now.” Levi added a second later.

Hange cleared her throat. “Well then, I’ll make you imagine it. Call me commander Hange Zoe,” Hange said. “So after the river, where did we go next, Captain Levi?”

“You read it right?”

“They jumped into the river together,” Hange said.

Levi’s eyes widened. “They did?” Levi had dreamt of splashes, the cold water slapping at his face and the numbness that followed. Of course that would have meant them jumping into the river. But why had it taken him so long to put two and two together? “Yeah you’re right. They did.”

Hange chuckled. “Weren’t you the one who wrote it?” She looked back at the dense foliage behind them and back at him. “Let’s go back?”

“Yeah… Sure…” Levi turned on his heel, making his way back to the path only stopping when Hange grabbed at his arm and put it around her shoulder.

“You’re walking much slower now you know,” she said. “Should we go back?”

Levi shook his head. “No, keep going.” His weight on her shoulders was a familiar sensation, almost nostalgic. And the green around him, the breeze and the peaceful rustle of leaves only helped to comfort him further.

There may have been some others along the trail, but Levi wasn’t looking at anyone else. Along the way on the path, the small support had evolved to a piggy back ride.

Surprisingly, Levi wasn’t at all self conscious.

“You’re much lighter than I thought you would be.”

“I honestly feel like I’ve lost weight since the injury. I probably had a lot more muscle back in the summer.” Levi let his head hang back as he stared up at the blue sky above him. The two stopped for a rest in one of the forest clearings a good few meters away from the path.

The ground beneath him was dirty for sure and he felt the leaves and stones through his thick joggers. For some reason though, he wasn’t at all in a hurry to get up.

Hange squeezed his leg. “I’d think physical therapy would have done something about that.”

“Hange, can anyone actually gain muscle learning how to walk again?”

“I’m pretty sure you do other stuff in therapy.”

“Yeah, but it’s far from the training I used to do for high jumps,” Levi said. “Even if my knee magically heals now, who knows if I’ll even be able to manage a two meter jump again.”

Hange closed her eyes and hummed, seeming deep in thought for a second. “Captain Levi was humanity’s strongest,” she said. “Then he got injured in some explosion and ended up half dead on the banks of the river.”

Levi could only watch silently as Hange pulled her legs a little closer to herself and pressed one finger to her left eye and before he knew it, Levi found himself mirroring that slight movement, the phantom pains returned for a split second.

“But I can’t imagine the story ended there. Humanity’s strongest soldier wouldn’t go out of commission over an injury like that. After that, he had to continue fighting right?” Hange continued.

Maybe we should just live here together. Right Levi?

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us.

The rustle of the leaves, the clear sky above him and the way Hange had rested her elbow on her knees, touching her hand to her left eye. Those were more than enough crumbs for Levi to almost hear the conversation in the silence.

Shoot or Listen. It’s up to you.

“He continued fighting,” Levi said. He let out a cough. “No--- They continued fighting. Captain Levi and Commander Hange Zoe did.”

***

“Maybe I should have built a cart,” Hange said as she rested on the bench. She heaved a breath so strong Levi could have believed she had held her breath the whole way to the rest house.

“You didn’t have to support me here. I could have walked it.”

“Believe me Levi, this isn’t much. It’s like just another day in the gym,” Hange said.

“If we were doing this months ago I could have done five rounds of this trail with you on my back.”

Hange grinned. “Is that a challenge?”

“I said five months ago. Not now.”

Levi stretched his arms out, noting how heavy it was then, particularly when compared to months ago. Back then, it had been his arms carrying him over the bar, then and there stretched out in front of him, those same arms felt like dead weight. And the dead weight stretched out to all parts of his body, all the way until his legs, settling particularly on his braced knee.

And for a second, it hurt. Enough for Levi to instinctively put his hand on top of it, an attempt to pacify it before it got unbearable.

A second later, another propped her hand on top of his and Levi followed it all the way up until Hange.

Her face was hopeful, her eyes wide with what could have been curiosity and soon enough, maybe plans and ideas. “When your knee heals, let’s do this again,” she said.

The path wouldn’t change. It would pass by the same glades, the same rivers and through the halfway point that was the rest house.

The seasons would change the scenery for sure, each would bring its own flavor to the paths. But Levi was sure that wasn’t what Hange was thinking about then as she looked elsewhere, first scanning her surroundings then settling somewhere above.

Levi didn’t have to follow her gaze to know it. It had been the main attraction since they had gotten past the forest and into the clearing.

Of course, that was what Hange would have liked to see.

There was a reason the rest house had been placed so conveniently there at that halfway point. In front of the rest house, the mountain path broke into a fork, one with the green sign which would loop back to the entrance, the other snaked up the mountain, so steeply Levi was sure in his current state, he would only injure himself further if he attempted to climb to the top.

And what lay above there, was the observatory, the one lump he had remembered seeing from the entrance of the station.

We walked that far? Levi thought to himself then. He looked to Hange who was still very much focused on the view of the observatory from their place on the bench.

You’re still looking at it? “You really wanna check it out?” Levi asked.

“The what?” Hange looked back at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

“The observatory, on the peak, up there.”

“Maybe next time.” She shrugged, “Even if you insist, I’m not making you climb that.”

The trail was steep enough at least that Levi was sure they’d have to be on all fours for a good majority of that difficult hike.

“You wanna get something to eat?” Hange asked as she held a hand out to help him up.

“Sure.”

The resthouse only offered the bare minimum, rice balls and sandwiches as if they were doing their part to prevent anybody else from overeating mid hike. Those amenities, the indoor benches and the indoor heating was more than enough though for an already exhausted Levi.

It was as if his body realized that it was time to rest, and chose that moment to complain, putting emphasis in particular to the aches and pains on his knee. Even holding on to Hange who had supported him the rest of the way, had brought with it a few more unwelcome pains and even Levi’s shoulders that had not done much but tense up as he held on to Hange, were starting to hurt.

“You tired?” She asked in between bites of her riceball.

“I’m having fun.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Hange retorted.

“Aren’t you supposed to be tired, you were pretty much supporting me the whole time.”

Hange rolled her shoulders. “I still workout in between studies. Besides I told you, you’re light.” she said.

But Levi did notice in her flushed face and the way she had paused a few times in between sentences, she was tired. Tired but still very much enjoying it. Tired but still very much unsatisfied.

And he saw it in the way she would sneak glances out the window as if…

“You really wanna climb the hill, don’t you?”

Hange bit her lip, quickly crumpling the empty wrapper of the rice ball. As if that could have been enough to stave whatever conflicted feelings seemed to be boiling inside her.

“It’s fine, okay. You can leave me here first.”

“But… I wanna see that view with you.” Hange said. “We could wait until the summer, when your leg is fully healed. Maybe we could ask Erwin about it…”

“Summer is a long time from now and before that, you’re gonna have to finish your thesis, then you’re gonna have to defend it. Who knows how quickly things will change by then,”

Hange avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the crumpled plastic wrapper in front of her and she held it in her hands like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hange, I can wait here you know.” Levi pressed. “I’ve flown more than enough times to be satisfied for a lifetime. You don’t have to wait for me. Just show me the way next summer.”

Hange required more prodding after that. But Levi had figured out the secret to it already. All he had to do was subtly lead her to the spot where the path quickly bent upwards, to the steep incline, so steep that Levi couldn’t completely get a view of what lay beyond, even with his head bent back it hurt.

Hange’s face though was a little more flushed and there was a sparkle in her eyes. She was almost there.

Levi just had to push her a little closer. “It might get cold up there.” He removed his hoodie and handed it to her. “I’ll be waiting inside the resthouse so I’ll keep warm there. Just come back there after you’re satisfied.”

Hange gave him a look of surprise which quickly softened into something that resembled more a puppy that was given their first treat. “Levi….” She quickly put the hoodie on and for a good few seconds, Levi was struggling to find the next words to say.

‘That shade of green… it looks good on you too,” Levi managed to say.

“This is the survey corps green after all right?” Hange said, giving him the most cheeky expression.

“Yes. And it looks good on you, Commander Hange Zoe.” It could have been instinct or it could have been something else. But maybe along the way, he had just gotten used to pushing and prodding at her, the way she had done to him many times before.

He found himself pressing his left fist into her heart, focusing then on the way the fingers on his left hand curled clumsily into a fist. He was right handed, yet it was his left hand that fought for ground on her chest.

“Climb to your heart’s content.”

Dedicate your heart.

As Hange looked up at the steep hill above her, the afternoon sun chose that moment to shine on her, and Levi made out the sweat in her brow.

“To your heart’s content? That’s a pretty cheesy line Levi.”

That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.

And before Levi could even say a last goodbye, beg her to come back, she turned her back to him.

He could have called out to her, he was sure of it. But then, as he watched her climb, he could only stand frozen.

At first, he wanted to attribute it to the chill. He was only wearing one thin sweater, one layer, in almost sub zero temperatures. But the biting cold was the last thing on his mind.

Why didn’t you run after her?

The phantom pains came back. And that time, they weren’t pale in comparison to the rest of the sensations. They took over, as if the view in front of him then had breathed new life into those wounds.

Why couldn’t I run after her?

His whole body ached. His legs were bruised, his stomach was eating him inside out. HIs fingers burned and his face stung of wounds.

And he forced himself to look above him as Hange continued to climb. The sun was streaming right into his face, and even as his eyes burned at such a sight, Levi couldn’t look away.

It was as if the afternoon sun was eating her up, every color in her, the shadows consumed her. And soon, the only thing he could see was a black silhouette, that only got smaller and smaller the longer he looked.

See you later, Hange.

“And then what happened?” Levi muttered to himself, as if saying it out loud would make the dreams and the memories come at him faster.

They weren’t feeling obedient at all that day though.

“What happened to Hange?” He pressed, his voice a little louder than a second ago.

Levi forced himself to look back up as if searching for some sort of an answer in the view in front of him then. The memories and dreams after all had a tendency of washing over him after he fixates on the subject a little longer than necessary.

It never came though and soon enough, her silhouette was small enough to be fully covered by his pinky finger as he reached his hand out and raised his hand over his face.

And he was starting to get a little more desperate. If he couldn’t call out to those memories, he could call out to her, right?

“Hange!” Can you hear me? The memories couldn’t have ended there.

The last view of her was a silhouette, a black silhouette, much farther and much smaller than the one in front of him then. But at that moment, she felt far, completely out of reach.

Levi’s throat burned, his vision blurred as if trying to get rid of even that remnant of view.

Around that time, time stopped. Everything started to dissolve into conglomerations of sights and sounds. He was starting to even have trouble processing the rustling of the leaves and even the voices in the background.

And as he tried to take control of his body then, with the smaller motions, Levi soon started to realize he wasn’t even in control of his fingers, his hands or his legs. He moved the goalposts, attempting to at least take control of breaths, the rhythm as he swallowed that lump in his throat.

His body though was a spiteful thing. As soon as he became aware of those small motions though, it deprived him of those comforts as well.

And Levi soon found himself struggling to breathe, struggling to swallow.

Soon, he was struggling to do anything to remind himself that his body was still his to control.

“Hey, sir are you okay?”

What…

“Hey Levi… Look at me?”

Hange… When did you get here?

Hange’s eyes were fixed on his. And she narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows as if deep in thought. And in her eyes he saw a glimmer of something else. Concern?

Soon enough, a shadow went over his right eye and before Levi could recoil, it was gone. But the shadow left the cool feeling of something wet under his eyes.

Wet...Tears?

Hange spoke up only confirming it. “Levi… Why are you crying?”

[hydrangeahug]

Solodeus Week Day 1!

College AU | Sleepover

Ao3

Note: I wrote this a month ago and now I can't remember what it's about </3 all I know is that Solomon affectionately calling Asmo his little demon even with Asmo being human makes me feel some sort of way,,,

College, a place that, to Solomon, was more boring than anything else he ever had to deal with. He already knew most topics they had and the people in his classes weren't interesting enough to catch his attention either. But as much as he just wanted to finally be done with it, his college did bring him one good thing. Asmodeus. 

They met in one of the few classes that they went to together, it was an art class if he remembered correctly. Asmodeus wasn't the best student there but he had potential if he would actually attend the classes each week. He was usually clubbing when everyone else sat in the classroom and while Solomon didn't like skipping his classes - as much as he hated them - but he couldn't say that Asmodeus' charm never worked on him. He often suddenly found himself in a club with Asmodeus instead of in his class, but how could he be mad at his friend when he looked so happy?

Solomon usually kept to himself but something about Asmodeus was intriguing to him. Asmodeus was popular but he still chose to spend most of his time with Solomon. Not that Solomon minded it though, Asmodeus' company was a good distraction, and he was a good friend to Solomon.

But what he absolutely wasn't, was a good team partner.

Every time Asmodeus was assigned on a team project with someone, it ended horribly. Solomon liked Asmodeus but if there was one thing he hated about him, it was this. Everyone dreaded when team projects were assigned, not only because they're overall a pain to deal with, but also because getting assigned with Asmodeus meant a 100% chance of failing.

And this time it was Solomon's time to suffer.

[ Asmo ]

Sol <3 when did you want me to come over again?

[ Solomon ]

You were supposed to be here an hour ago.

[ Asmo ]

???

Why did you not tell me anything???

[ Solomon ]

I've been calling you for a while…

And this was one of the reasons. Asmodeus was horrible at being there on time. And this was actually still early for him. His usual time was around 3 - 4 hours if he decided to come at all.

Their apartments weren't far from each other and they often spent time together at Solomon place. Asmodeus didn't enjoy having people over at his place so it was rare for Solomon to be allowed over. Solomon didn't mind having them at his place though, there was less distraction for Asmodeus and the atmosphere was more calm compared to his place.

There was a knock on the door, Asmo.

Solomon opened the door and outside stood Asmodeus, he was wearing a more casual pink sweater and black pants and a few accessories like a necklace and an earring, he had his backpack with him - a small backpack with bat wings that Solomon had won for him at a fair - and his phone in his hand.

"Tada! Do you like my outfit?~" 

"Good morning to you too, Asmo."

Solomon held the door open so Asmodeus could get in and there was absolutely no way he could have missed the pout on his face when he walked past Solomon like that.

Asmodeus took off the backpack and put it next to the couch before dramatically letting himself fall onto the couch. "So you're not even going to acknowledge my outfit that I took so long to pick out just for you to see? How ungrateful…"

"Your outfit is great, but we won't be going outside today anyway, I don't see why you needed so much time to pick it out. And apart from that, I'm surely not the only one to see it considering how full the streets are." Solomon did like his outfit, he looked pretty in it, but if he would have said anything more then Asmodeus would be spending the next hour talking about why his outfit is so perfect and they didn't have enough time to waste, even if Solomon enjoyed hearing Asmodeus talk about topics that interested him with so much enthusiasm.

"Awww would you prefer if you were the only one to see me then? I could come over late next time when the streets are empty and you could spend all night being the only one to see me.~"

Solomon sat down next to Asmodeus and took his notebook that was laying on the table in front of him, "As nice as that sounds, we should get to work on our project. We only have today left after all."

"Didn't they say that it was due on the 13th?" Asmodeus said while looking for his notes in his backpack. How he managed to continuously lose things in a backpack so small was beyond Solomon. "Oh by the way, do you want something to drink? I brought something nice with me today!"

Asmodeus held a fancy bottle of wine in front of Solomon's face; it was a wine they liked drinking on their movie nights at Asmo's place. The wine was good but despite Asmodeus going clubbing so often, he doesn't mix well with alcohol and ends up drunk a lot quicker than Solomon.

"They mentioned in the class chat that the deadline had to be switched to an earlier date due to the school festival being on the 13th. Also, no alcohol before we finish this." Solomon took the bottle from Asmodeus' hand and put it on the living room table. Perhaps Asmo is going to work hard until we're done if he has something to look forward to, Solomon thought.

"You're normally not so boring… one glass isn't going to get us drunk, please…?" He thought wrong. And of course Asmo would use the puppy eye tactic on him… "One glass and then we start working."

"I promise you that I'll work as hard as I can afterwards!~" He winked towards Solomon and then left to get them two glasses. Solomon meanwhile gathered a few of the books he got from the library nearby for their project. The project was for their art class, a class that both Asmodeus and Solomon were quite good in. Asmo surprisingly enjoyed their written classes as much as their drawing ones and he looked quite adorable with the glasses that he wore to those classes.

Asmodeus came back with the two glasses and poured both of them a cup, the dark red liquid had a nice smell, it reminded Solomon of their movie nights. It was rare for Asmo to drink this wine outside of them, it was too expensive to buy often, did Asmo have a plan?

They drank their glass while working on the subject. Asmodeus was surprisingly holding true to his promise, he was working without any problems and their work was finished sooner than Solomon had expected.

"See, I can work hard if I want to! Now…" Asmodeus looked around the room, "how about a movie night at your place, we still have so much left of the wine after all?"

Solomon looked towards Asmo while he was putting the books into his shelf, Asmodeus was working on cleaning the desk in the meantime. "Sure, got any good movies we could watch?"

"Solomon, was there ever a movie night where I didn't have a plan ready? I already picked out some movies this morning." So that's why he finished so quickly! Well it wasn't like Solomon was going to complain though, they worked hard and movie nights with Asmo were always relaxing, perfect to calm down before the deadline tomorrow.

Asmodeus picked out two movies, one was a detective romance and the other a horror movie. Asmo put his head on Solomon's shoulder after the first movie. It was one of the moments where both of them could be happy, not a single worry in the world could bother them in that moment.

By the time they were halfway done with the second movie they had drunk most of the bottle - with Asmodeus drinking most of it while Solomon slowly enjoyed his own glass - and it was already dark out. Solomon knew he couldn't let Asmo go out this late so he thought about where they could order some food together before sleeping.

But before he could come up with a restaurant he heard faint snoring coming from the man beside him. He seemingly fell asleep on Solomon's shoulder. Asmodeus looked so peaceful asleep that he couldn't get himself to wake him up even if he tried. He took the remote and turned down the volume on the TV until it was almost impossible to hear. Solomon then grabbed a blanket that he always had on his couch and put it over Asmo so he wouldn't get sick before putting his arm around his back to bring him closer.

"Good night, my little demon."

[quicksilversquared]

Of Growing and Miraculous Pranks

Ladybug has always been shorter than Chat Noir, and even though Marinette has grown- well, the height gap between them just keeps getting bigger. She hadn't given it any thought- well, much thought, at least- until things started not quite lining up properly.

Or: Marinette grows. Ladybug doesn't.

links in the reblog

Marinette had been Ladybug for four years, three months, and fifteen days when she started realizing that- well, that something a bit strange was going on.

Everything started when she caught wind of the- apparently quite common- perception that Ladybug wasn't a teenager as a lot of people had originally thought, but actually an adult. For some reason, though, people still saw Chat Noir as a teenager instead of assuming the same thing about him.

"I don't know why people would think that, Tikki," Marinette told her kwami that afternoon, after she had made her excuses with Alya and headed home from their group outing a little early to get a bit of homework done. "I mean, when we started out- well, it was pretty obvious that we weren't experienced, and that we were learning a lot, and then there was that stupid textbook, too, plus I was really short then. So maybe I wasn't happy that people had figured out that I'm a teenager, but it at least that assumption made sense!"

Tikki giggled. "Maybe it's the Miraculous magic that's interfering?" she suggested, the impish look on her face suggesting that she knew exactly what was going on but she wasn't going to tell. "At any rate, that's a good thing, right? People aren't thinking about someone your age when they try to figure out Ladybug's identity!"

"Ugh, I don't know," Marinette muttered, making a mental note to maybe look into the subject more later on. She honestly didn't keep up with the news about her and her partner much anymore- she had better things to do with her time, both in her normal life (unfortunately, superheroes still had homework and babysitting and commission deadlines) and the superhero one. That was why the whole we think Ladybug is actually an adult! had taken her by such surprise. "I mean, I guess, but does it really matter that much what the public thinks if Hawkmoth knows that the timers are a sign of a Miraculous holder not being an adult yet? It might throw Alya off of my trail a bit more, but- well, I've already done that, when I used the Fox to create a Mirage of Ladybug rescuing Marinette!"

Tikki giggled some more. "More confusion around your identities is always a good thing! Even if it's just one of the city's superhero reporters that doesn't think that it's possible for you to be the same person."

"Yeah, I guess." Marinette thought about it for another minute, then shrugged and pushed the thought away. She was far too busy to waste time wondering about inaccurate speculation and gossip about her superhero self. It wasn't as though it was doing anyone any harm, anyway. "I'll figure it out later. Tikki, can you pass me my Literature notebook? I want to finish all of this week's readings today. Then maybe I'll have enough time later in the week to tailor a couple of my outfits so that they fit me better."

"Okay, Marinette!"

"Ugh, Chat Noir, can you stop growing?"

Up ahead of her, Chat Noir snickered, shoving his hair back out of his face as he flashed a devilish look back at her. "Jealous, Bug? It's not my fault that I've actually grown and you- have you shrunk, maybe?"

"Ugh," Ladybug grumbled again, pushing herself forward as they raced across town towards a reported akuma. That was totally unfair. She had grown, surpassing her mom and keeping up with all of her friends. Maybe she wasn't the tallest out of them, but it wasn't as though she was dwarfed by Adrien and Nino or anything. Adrien was the tallest of her friends, even, and she came up to just around his nose, but with Chat Noir?

With his latest growth spurt, Ladybug would be lucky if the top of her head even managed to reach his shoulders. Her partner delighted in his towering height, making a big deal about teasing her about being able to reach things without jumping, or swinging herself up.

Not that it was exactly a big deal if she had to do that, of course. It wasn't hard. Besides, being small had its advantages! There was less surface area to get grabbed or hit by akumas, it was easier to wedge herself into hiding spots, she could slip into small spaces far more easily than her gangly partner...

...but still. It was the principle of the thing. She didn't exactly want to look like a child next to her ridiculously towering partner. Maybe the city had decided that she was actually the adult out of the two for some strange reason, but it would be nice to actually look the part.

(Her one condolence was that there were short adults, ones even shorter than her. She would have been super grumpy if she had stopped growing at her mom's height, since- well, Ladybug was pretty certain that no one would have taken her very seriously if even some école élémentair students towered over her.)

"My Lady?" Chat Noir asked after several minutes of running had passed. He had slowed down, Ladybug noted in the back of her mind, and she had subconsciously matched him. "You're quieter than usual. I don't actually think that you've shrunk!"

Ladybug had to laugh at that. "I know, kitty-cat. And I have grown, I swear! Just- just not to ridiculous-person heights," she added with a sniff, turning up her nose. "It's completely unnecessary."

Chat Noir snickered at that, his ears perking back up as his worry clearly dissipated. "Unnecessary? Do you want to know how useful that unnecessary height is in my civilian life? Why, just the other day, my friend's mom asked me to grab something from a high shelf so that she didn't have to get out the stepstool, and she called me a very helpful young man when I did!"

"I've heard that tall people have a higher risk of blood clots and cancer," Ladybug parried, hoping that she was actually remembering her reading for health class correctly. "And heart issues. I'd rather have to pull out a stool than have heart issues."

Chat Noir practically fell over as he laughed even harder. "I think you're making stuff up and evading! Cancer, really?"

"Am not!" Ladybug insisted, even though she was totally evading Chat Noir's point. Adrien had done something similar for her mom earlier in the week (and had been rewarded with a cookie, which he had been far too happy about), and Marinette had been thankful for his height and extra reach then. He helped her and Alya all the time with reaching books in the library, too, when there was something that they couldn't quite reach. It didn't happen often, necessarily- neither of the two girls were really short, just normal sized thank-you-very-much- but sometimes a book was just barely out of reach and it wouldn't be a good idea to try to pull it down because it could slip out of her grasp and hit her head and then knock her out and then she would get a concussion and fail her exams and-

Well. Anyway. It was probably a better idea to either ask for help or grab a stool instead of risking injury to herself or damage to the book.

"I hope you know that I'm looking that up when I get home," Chat Noir informed her. Then he snuck another glance at her, slowing down a touch more. At this rate, civilians were going to start complaining about the superheroes taking forever to get there.

Ladybug quirked an eyebrow at him. "What, kitty-cat?"

"You know, if your height bugs you that much, my Lady, Plagg told me that our transformations- well, they can be whatever we want," Chat Noir told her, his voice going quiet so that no one would overhear him. "And, if we really wanted to, it can change, like, physical features. Like height."

Ladybug blinked at him, and then her partner's suggestion sunk in and she scowled. "I'm not going to cheat and magic myself taller, Chat Noir!"

"It was just a suggestion, in case the height stuff was really bothering you!" Chat Noir yelped, backpedaling quickly. "In case you didn't know about that bit but might be interested! I wasn't saying that you should or anything! Just that it was something you could consider. If you wanted to."

"I wouldn't consider it," Ladybug told him tartly. "What would be the point?"

(That was a lie. She totally considered it.)

(Just for a moment, though. Really.)

Marinette scowled as she shot out of yet another hiding spot that had been invaded by other students and made (another) dash for it, pushing herself to run as fast as she could. She could hear the akuma drawing closer, and she really had to transform before the akuma tore into the area and zapped her up alongside all of the other civilians in the street.

Ugh. Why couldn't people find their own hiding spots and leave hers alone? Everyone knew by now that the more people that were hidden in a spot, the more likely it was that the akuma of the day would find them.

"Marinette! Hold tight!"

"What-" Marinette started, startled, before she was scooped up my a pair of familiar arms. A second later, she and her rescuer were up on the rooftops and positively flying across the city, the streets a blur below.

Aha. It was Chat Noir.

It had been a few years since she had really interacted with her partner as a civilian, Marinette realized as she clung to Chat Noir's shoulders. There hadn't really been any akumas targeting her, not since Lila had been sent packing in disgrace, and the agility and strength that she had gotten from battles as a superhero helped her get out of the way before she could get in much danger- well, most of the time, at least. There hadn't been any more akumas wanting to go out on dates with her, either, or awkward encounters leading to more-awkward brunches with her parents. So it was honestly a little surprising that he remembered her name, all things considered, and even more surprising that he would go out of his way to rescue her specifically.

Not that it wasn't appreciated, of course, because it very much was. But it was still surprising.

"That akuma doesn't look like one to mess around with," Chat Noir puffed in her ear as he launched them across a street. "And I'm pretty certain that I saw Hawkmoth and Mayura out and about, too. So this battle is going to be super fun."

"Can you drop me off at my house?" Marinette asked right away They were headed in that direction anyway, she could tell, and if her partner was right- and he often was- about the supervillains being out, then she would need to grab a few Miraculous for backups before going out. "I can stay there, it should be far enough away from the akuma. You remember, at the bakery?"

"Got it, Princess!" Chat Noir's trajectory didn't change, which- well, which suggested that he had been headed for the bakery anyway. He adjusted his grip and sped up when a loud bang behind them signaled that some building had been pretty well destroyed. "Hold tight!"

It didn't take long at all for them to reach the bakery. Chat Noir landed lightly on her balcony, neatly avoiding all of the chairs and the table that she and the other girls had left out after their most recent tea party. "Here you go!"

"Thank you," Marinette told him, loosening her legs from around his waist and dropping lightly to the ground before reaching forward to give him a hug. "The save is greatly appre-"

She stopped. Paused. Because instead of her head just barely reaching his shoulders, like she was used to as Ladybug, her head came up to his nose. Somehow, the height difference had shrunk by a head.

What.

"Is something wrong, Marinette?" Chat Noir asked after a second had passed. He sounded confused.

Marinette shook her head hastily,. "No, it's, uh- I just thought you were taller! Because Ladybug is so much shorter in all of your pictures, you know?" she added hastily, trying to cover her slip. "So, uh..."

Chat Noir laughed at that. "Yeah, she's a tiny bug, isn't she?" he asked, his tone entirely fond. "But what she lacks in height, she more than makes up for in spirit and spitfire. And if people underestimate her because of her size- well, that just makes our job a bit easier, right? The akuma thinks it doesn't need to try its hardest to win, and we stroll up and hand them their ass on a platter."

"Right," Marinette managed, just barely keeping herself from frowning. She was Ladybug! Why was Chat Noir talking as though she was so much taller than her alter ego?

"I never tell her how endearing that is, because I worry that she might feel like I'm patronizing her, but it's really just like- well, she's one heck of a firecracker in a small package." Chat Noir grinned at her. "Small but packs far more of a punch than anyone would expect. And I should really get back so that she doesn't end up facing the akuma on her own," he added quickly, stepping back and giving her a wave. "Stay safe, Marinette!"

Marinette waved, waiting for Chat Noir to launch himself into the air before diving into her room and digging for the Miraculous box. She pulled out four Miraculous- three to definitely use, and a bonus just in case- and then called for Tikki.

She would have to mull over the strange height disparity later. Right now, duty called.

The weirdness only continued. Now that Ladybug was aware that there was something off, it seemed as though she just couldn't stop noticing other things that seemed didn't seem quite right. The most recent Odd Thing, as she had decided to dub it, was when Ladybug had escorted many of her classmates- including Nino, Alya, and Adrien- to safety, since there was an akuma rampaging through the building that they were visiting on their field trip, and of course she didn't want them hurt. It hadn't taken much to get people to evacuate, and now she was taking a quick breather before plunging back into the fight.

And in the seconds that made up that breather, Ladybug had noticed that her friends seemed a lot taller than normal. But how could they be taller?

Something really, really weird was going on, that was for sure. Adrien was as tall as Chat Noir it seemed, with her head only reaching his shoulders, and Nino and Alya seemed to have shot up as well. She had to wonder if maybe her perception of her friends' heights was just off somehow- she had been wearing (low) heels to school sometimes, maybe that was it- but there hadn't been much time to think about it then. The akuma was raging ever closer, and an evacuation to a safe zone did no good if the akuma was allowed to reach the safe zone again.

So once again, Ladybug didn't allow herself time to think about how plausible her explanation was. She flung herself into the fight, and by the time it ended, the only concern on Marinette's mind was thinking up an explanation for her being gone for the entire battle.

Then she saw Chat Noir as her civilian self again, followed by Ladybug making the time to do a one-on-one interview with Alya. Ladybug had to save Adrien from an overeager fan who had been akumatized. Every time, something just seemed off, but- well, she never really had the time to give it any thought.

The last straw finally came when Marinette was browsing the Ladyblog for the first time in- well, ages.

A reduced amount of homework had coincided with both a break in commissions and an unusually low number of akuma attacks, so she had decided to take advantage of the break to catch up on some much-needed rest and to catch up with what was being said about her on the Ladyblog.

And on the blog, there- well, there was a photo. A series of photos, really, in a very lovely article posted on the most recent Heroes Day and pinned to the top of the page. It was a reflection on the years of akumas and all that the superheroes had done for the city, with pictures from the most recent Heroes Day celebration along with photos from past celebrations. Ladybug and Chat Noir were in all of the photos, of course, with a rotating cast of secondary heroes behind them. Each year, it was obvious that Chat Noir was growing taller, catching up to the Mayor's height easily, a boy's silhouette turning into a man's. Next to him...

Marinette compared the pictures once, twice, three times. No, it wasn't just her imagination. Chat Noir grew taller and filled out with lean muscle, but next to him- well, Ladybug looked like she might as well have been copy-pasted from year to year. And in one of the last photos...

"My arms aren't that twiggy, are they?" Marinette demanded, shrugging off her hoodie to get a better look at herself. Just like she had thought- her arms were like a gymnast's, hardly bulky but clearly strong with lean, practiced muscles, just like the rest of her. Marinette had had to awkwardly wave off comments about her muscles before- after all, no one just got the physique of a professional gymnast without putting in some work- so she knew that her muscles were there and noticeable. And yet, in that photo...

Maybe it was just a bad angle?

No. No, she wasn't just going to accept that and move on. Marinette had been noticing things that were off between her normal self and her alter-ego for a while now, and she had always waved them off as coincidences or her misremembering things. But not anymore. She refused.

Today, Marinette was going to figure out what was going on.

Snatching up a book and a stray piece of chalk, Marinette stalked over to a blank section of wall. Facing the wall, she placed the book on her head, flat and level. Once she was satisfied with how flat it was, Marinette swiped a short line of chalk under the book, marking her Marinette height. Then she called on Tikki, who-

Well, who had apparently been napping before Marinette abruptly transformed. Whoops.

She's apologize later with a cookie. Tikki could never stay that upset for long.

With a small wince, Ladybug turned back to the wall, taking a step to the side so that she wouldn't be right on top of her previous mark before lining the book up again and making another mark. She stepped back, fully expecting the marks to be side-by-side and the whole looking like she didn't grow at all thing to be all in her head-

-but that wasn't the case.

"What the heck," Ladybug muttered, looking from one mark to the other. The Ladybug mark was significantly lower. She had probably been that height when she started being Ladybug over four years ago.

What was going on?

"No wonder I always look fourteen at most in the photos!" Ladybug exclaimed, glancing towards the mirror this time. From this angle, she could confirm that her superhero build looked just the same as it had at the start. "I'm stuck in my old form! Spots off!"

Tikki spiraled free and- oh, the little sprite was clearly muffling giggles. Marinette narrowed her eyes at her kwami. "Do you want to explain why my superhero self is an entire head shorter than my- well, my normal self?"

"It's not all my fault!" Tikki objected, clearly still swallowing her mirth. "You had a pretty specific picture of what Ladybug looked like after your first few transformation, so I- er, the magic- just assumed that you just wanted to keep your exact same transformation."

"Uh-huh." Marinette gave Tikki an unimpressed look. "And the magic just assumed that my 'very specific' image of Ladybug went all the way down to the exact measurements I had when I started? And that my 'image of Ladybug' wouldn't account for me growing?"

Tikki fell silent. Her eyes darted back and forth as she battled with keeping her smile hidden. Marinette waited, her arms crossed. And then Tikki cracked.

"Okay, fine, I might have fiddled with things a little bit," Tikki admitted, zipping backwards out of Marinette's reach. "I've done it before with other holders, to see how long it takes for them to notice, and it's always so funny when they do!"

"Ha ha," Marinette said dryly. She peered at Tikki. "So how fast did I notice, compared to your other holders?"

Tikki giggled. "You aren't going to like it."

Marinette groaned. "I did that badly, huh?"

"To be fair, you've been incredibly busy," Tikki assured her hastily. "You have school, and commissions, and babysitting, and putting together your portfolio, and doing long-distance studies with the Order of the Guardians, and akuma battles. You had more important things to worry about than if your superhero self had been growing at the same rate as your civilian self!"

Marinette remained less than convinced.

"Besides, it was helpful, wasn't it?" Tikki added hopefully. "It's easier to hide when you're smaller!"

The groan Marinette gave was Tikki's only answer.

A few minutes ticked by as Marinette contemplated what to do next. Her knee-jerk reaction was to ask Tikki to adjust the Ladybug transformation to grow with her right away, because she should have been growing alongside Chat Noir, and he had been teasing her about her height for ages. But a sudden jump in growth would no doubt attract attention from the press, along with unwanted speculation. If the public thought that she was an adult now- even if Hawkmoth wouldn't be fooled- then that could help keep her own identity secret from reporters and other curious people.

But on the other hand, Marinette wasn't very interested in keeping her superhero self short and spindly. Maybe it was just vanity, but she had worked hard during those akuma battles and earned those muscles. She had grown up, but the way she looked didn't reflect that at all. And she wanted it to.

(Well. Somewhat. She didn't get many comments on her figure- that she knew of, anyway- and she wasn't exactly interested in starting. Keeping a thirteen-year-old's body in that regard might be helpful.)

She didn't have to make a decision right away, Marinette decided after another minute's thought. There would be no harm in keeping her current transformation for a few more days while she figured out how much to change and how fast to change it.

After all, Ladybug had looked the exact same for years.

"What's new?" Chat Noir asked cheerfully as he landed next to Ladybug on a darkened rooftop. There were two separate contests going on in the city that evening, so the two of them had opted to call a patrol rather than just sit around waiting for an akuma to show up. "Anything interesting?"

"My kwami's been shrinking me."

Chat Noir blinked. Once. Twice. "Pardon?"

"I've been noticing some weird stuff going on," Ladybug explained, glancing across the city to make sure that there weren't any disturbances yet before turning back to her partner. "People I know in my civilian life who seem a lot taller when I'm transformed, mostly. And then I saw the photos on the Ladyblog with past Heroes Days- and I didn't look like I had grown at all, even though I have! So I marked my height on my wall, and I'm a whole head taller as my civilian self! Apparently Tikki was playing a prank on me."

Chat Noir blinked again, then sniggered. "That's hilarious!"

"It is not!" Ladybug protested. "I could have been growing all this time, so I wouldn't always look so short next to you! And how am I supposed to change to match what I should look like now without people thinking that I'm magicking myself to look different?" She spread her hands, gesturing at an invisible headline. "I can see the headlines now- 'Ladybug padding her suit?'. No thank you!"

Chat Noir choked, and it took Ladybug a moment to figure out where his brain had gone. Scowling, she tossed her yo-yo at him in gentle reprimand. "Not like that!"

"I- I'm sorry, what else was I supposed to think about?" Chat Noir managed, still sounding a bit choked. "There's not exactly a lot of things that people normally stuff!"

"Get your mind out of the gutter! I meant, like, muscle-wise." Ladybug tapped her biceps, still as bony-thin as they had been when she first started being a superhero. "I've gotten a fair bit of muscle from swinging all over Paris, but Tikki decided to hide that as part of her prank, too."

Chat Noir's shoulders relaxed. "Oh, okay. Gotcha."

"Though I do suppose that the tabloids would focus more on those other areas if I adjusted everything to match my build now," Ladybug mused, and was amused to see her partner promptly choke and turn red, clearly scandalized.

"Ladybug!"

Ladybug finally cracked and laughed, elbowing her partner "You should have seen your face! That was great!"

Chat Noir pouted, muttering something under his breath. Ladybug was pretty sure she heard the word meanie amongst the muttering, which only made her laugh harder. He stuck his lip out further in an even more dramatic pout, and she practically folded onto the rooftops, completely breathless.

She couldn't help it. His face.

Chat Noir made the best expressions.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Chat Noir grumbled, flopping down to sit next to her. "You are destroying my image of you, I hope you know that."

"I'm sure you'll survive." Finally getting her wheezing under control, Ladybug pushed herself back up to a sit. "I just couldn't resist."

They sat in silence for a minute, eyes scanning the city and listening intently for anything out of place. Finally Chat Noir spoke up again. "So what are you going to do about your transformation? Anything?"

Ladybug let out a long breath. "I keep asking myself that. Because, like, it's really good for hiding my identity, since I'm not at all the same height. But I worked hard for that muscle, darn it! Is it so wrong of me to actually want for it to show? Or to want to actually look like I've grown up at all?" She let out a long sigh. "I've been thinking about it and I for sure want to actually look like I have muscles, and I'll have to add that gradually. I just don't know about everything else."

Chat Noir hummed. "Well, maybe you can add some height but not all? Then it's still a bit of a disparity to throw off people who might be looking," he added. "And then once Hawkmoth is gone, go through a bit more of a growth spurt, since you won't have to transform during the day so often and people in your civilian life won't be wondering where you're vanishing off to all of the time."

"As if I really needed any more motivation to defeat Hawkmoth," Ladybug said with a laugh, but Chat Noir had a point. "That does sound reasonable, though. And if people notice me getting taller, then they might think that it's a clue, that they should be looking for girls who went through really late growth spurts."

Her partner grinned. "Exactly! I would be tempted to do the same, because that's a fantastic way to throw everyone off, but I think you might actually kill me if you started "growing" only for me to magic myself taller."

Ladybug's sharp nod made them both laugh.

"I've been thinking about doing a costume upgrade, too," Ladybug added once they had both calmed. She shrugged at Chat Noir's disbelieving look. "What? It's been years, and I have the world's most basic design, just because I panicked and blanked when I transformed the first time. And it would give the reporters something else to talk about other than 'did Ladybug suddenly get muscles?'"

"Well, if you decide you want to do that and want some help coming up with a new design, I have a friend in my civilian life who's a fantastic designer," Chat Noir told her, a fond grin spreading across his face. "I bet that she would be able to come up with some pretty great ideas."

"I think I can come up with my own ideas, thanks," Ladybug told him, and then scowled when a doubtful look flashed across his face. "Just I panicked once when I was thirteen and didn't think about what I wanted my transformation to look like doesn't mean that I can't think of good designs, Chat Noir!"

"Okay, okay, I believe you!" Chat Noir said with a laugh, holding his hands up in mock defense. Ladybug playfully pummeled them, and soon enough they were wrestling across the rooftops, Tikki's prank all but forgotten for the time being.

(Well. At least until the night's akuma showed up and laughed at Ladybug's diminutive height, that was.)

Ladybug's new outfit debuted a week later, black sections breaking up the red and black polka dots and a short open-front skirt- long enough to be decorative and look nice, short enough that it would be difficult for it to snag or have akumas grab on, so at least it wouldn't be impractical- a striking contrast to the simple onesie pattern that she had worn before. It made headlines, reporters and bloggers all too happy to talk about the changed design and how nice it looked and how well it suited Ladybug.

In fact, everyone was so caught up in the new design that it was three full months before the first person noticed and commented on the other new changes in Ladybug's appearance, both her apparent growth and the new muscles visible in her arms and along her legs. The internet promptly exploded with theories about it, wondering if the new costume was making illusions or if the changes were real. Doctors and fitness experts chimed in, adding their voices to the fray.

At home, Marinette just smiled as she turned away from the theories on the Ladyblog and back towards her latest commission work for Jagged Stone. None of the guesses were remotely close, of course, but when it came to things with her alter ego...

Well, that was just the way she liked it.

[notbecauseofvictories]

Hi Sarah! My friend and I are starting a bookclub (as much as you can with two people who aren't pressed for deadlines) and I was wondering if you have any recommendations? (That is if you have time to rec anything!) We're starting off with Deathless and have Fitzgerald next in line somewhere but I def want to try to expand the genres we read and tbh from years of following you, I trust your judgement

I don’t...like giving recommendations? At least not directly, it seems like too much opportunity for getting it wrong. Everybody has their own tastes, after all, and even the best of friends don’t necessarily vibe with what you vibe with. (I’ve experienced this with multiple friends, so I know what I’m talking about.) Truly, one of the reasons that my whole “I’m going to get back into reading for pleasure!” push has been so successful is that I only bother with books that interest me, and stop reading when they fail to catch my attention.

But I’ve now read at least 60 books in 2020, which is approximately 60 more than I’ve read in the years prior, so I’m happy to share that. Below is my list of recent reads, beginning to end, along with a very short review---I keep this list in the notes app on my phone, so they have to be. Where I’ve talked about a book in a post, I’ve tried to link to it. 

Peruse, and if something catches your interest I hope you enjoy!

2020 Reading List

Crazy Rich Asians series, Kevin Kwan (here)

Blackwater, Michael McDowell (here; pulpy horror and southern gothic in one novel; come for the monster but stay for the family drama.)

Fire and Hemlock, Diane Wynne Jones (here; weird and thoughtful, in ways I’m still thinking about)

The Secret History, Donna Tartt

Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn (here; loved it! I can see why people glommed onto it)

Swamplandia!, Karen Russell (unfinished, I could not get past the first paragraph; just....no.)

Rules of Scoundrels series, Sarah MacLean (an enjoyable romp through classic romancelandia, though if you read through 4 back to back you realize that MacLean really only writes 1 type of relationship and 1 type of sexual encounter, though I do appreciate insisting that the hero go down first.)

The Bear and the Nightingale, Katherine Arden (here)

Dread Nation, Justine Ireland (great, put it with Stealing Thunder in terms of fun YA fantasy that makes everything less white and Eurocentric)

The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson (VERY good. haunting good.)

Tell My Horse, Zora Neale Hurston (I read an interesting critique of Hurston that said she stripped a lot of the radicalism out of black stories - these might be an example, or counterexample. I haven't decided yet.)

The Rose MacGregor Drinking and Admiration Society, T. Kingfisher (fun!)

St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves, Karen Russell (some of these short stories are wonderful; however, Swamplandia's inspiration is still unreadable, which is wild.)

17776, Jon Bois (made me cry. deeply human. A triumph of internet storytelling)

The Girl with All the Gifts, M. R. Carey (deeply enjoyable. the ending is a bittersweet kick in the teeth, and I really enjoyed the adults' relationships)

The Door in the Hedge and Other Stories, Robin McKinley (enjoyable, but never really resolved into anything.)

The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley (fun, but feels very early fantasy - or maybe I've just read too many of the subsequent knock-offs.)

Mrs. Caliban, Rachel Ingalls (weird little pulp novel.)

All Systems Red, Martha Wells (enjoyable, but I don't get the hype. won't be looking into the series unless opportunity arises.)

A People's History of Chicago, Kevin Coval (made me cry. bought a copy. am still thinking about it.)

The Sol Majestic, Ferrett Steinmetz (charming, a sf novel mostly about fine dining)

House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune (immensely enjoyable read, for all it feels like fic with the serial numbers filed off)

The Au Pair, Emma Rous (not bad, but felt like it wanted to be more than it is)

The Night Tiger, Yangsze Choo (preferred this to Ghost Bride; I enjoy a well-crafted mystery novel and this delivered)

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula Le Guin (unfinished, I cannot fucking get into Le Guin and should really stop trying)

The Ghost Bride, Yangsze Choo (enjoyable, but not nearly as fun as Ghost Bride - the romance felt very disjointed, and could have used another round of editing)

Temptation's Darling, Johanna Lindsey (pure, unadulterated id in a romance novel, complete with a girl dressing as a boy to avoid detection)

Social Creature, Tara Isabella Burton (a strange, dark psychological portrait; really made a mark even though I can't quite put my finger on why)

The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins (slow at first, but picks up halfway through and builds nicely; a whiff of Gone Girl with the staggered perspectives building together)

Stealing Thunder, Alina Boyden (fun Tortall vibes, but set in Mughal India)

The Traitor Baru Cormorant; The Monster Baru Commorant, The Tyrant Baru Cormorant, Seth Dickinson (LOVE this, so much misery, terrible, ecstatic; more here)

This Is How You Lose the Time War, Amal El-Mohtar, Max Gladstone (epistolary love poetry, vicious and lovely; more here)

The Elementals, Michael McDowell

Gideon the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir (didn't like this one as much as I thought I would; narrator's contemporary voice was so jarring against the stylized world and action sequences read like the novelization for a video game; more here)

Finna, Nino Cipri (a fun little romp through interdimensional Ikea, if on the lighter side)

Magic for Liars, Sarah Gailey (engrossing, even if I could see every plot twist coming from a mile away)

Desdemona and the Deep, C. S. E. Cooney (enjoyed the weirdness & the fae bits, but very light fare)

A Blink of the Screen, Terry Pratchett (admittedly just read this for the Discworld bits)

A Memory Called Empire, Arkady Martine (not as good about politics and colonialism as Baru, but still a powerful book about The Empire, and EXTREMELY cool worldbuilding that manages to be wholly alien and yet never heavily expositional)

Blackfish City, Sam J. Miller (see my post)

Last Werewolf, Glen Duncan (didn't finish, got to to first explicit sex scene and couldn't get any further)

Prosper's Demon, KJ Parker (didn't work for me...felt like a short story that wanted to be fleshed out into a novel)

The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett

His Majesty's Dragon, Naomi Novik (extremely fun, even for a reader who doesn't much like Napoleonic stories)

Three Parts Dead, Max Gladstone (fun romp - hard to believe that this is the same author as Time War though you can see glimmers of it in the imagery here)

A Scot in the Dark, Sarah MacLean (palette cleanser, she does write a good romance novel even it's basically the same romance novel over and over)

The Resurrectionist, E. B. Hudspeth (borrowed it on a whim one night, kept feeling like there was something I was supposed to /get/ about it, but never did - though I liked the Mutter Museum parallels)

Stories of Your Life and Others, Ted Chiang (he's a better ideas guy than a writer, though Hell Is The Absence of God made my skin prickle all over)

Gods of Jade and Shadow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fun, very much a throwback to my YA days of fairytale retellings, though obviously less European)

Four Roads Cross, Max Gladstone (it turns out I was a LOT more fond of Tara than I initially realized - plus this book had a good Pratchett-esque pacing and reliance on characterization)

Get in Trouble, Kelly Link (reading this after the Chiang was instructive - Link is such a better storyteller, better at prioritizing the human over the concept)

Gods Behaving Badly, Marie Phillips

Soulless; Changeless; Blameless, all by Gail Carriger (this series is basically a romance novel with some fantasy plot thrown in for fun; extremely charming and funny)

Black Leopard, Red Wolf, Marlon James (got about 1/3 of the way through and had to wave the white flag; will try again because I like the plot and the worldbuilding; the tone is just so hard to get through)

Pew, Catherine Lacey (a strange book, I'm still thinking about it; a good Southern book, though)

Nuremberg Diary, GM Gilbert (it took me two months to finish, and was worth it)

River of Teeth, Sarah Gailey (I wanted to like this one a lot more than I actually did; would have made a terrific movie but ultimately was not a great novel. Preferred Magic for Liars.)

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia (extremely fun, though more trippy than Gods and the plot didn't work as well for me - though it was very original)

The New Voices of Fantasy, Peter S. Beagle (collected anthology, with some favorites I've read before Ursula Vernon's "Jackalope Wives", "Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers" "The Husband Stitch"; others that were great new finds "Selkie Stories are for Losers" from Sofia Satamar and "A Kiss With Teeth" from Max Gladstone and "The Philosophers" from Adam Ehrlich Sachs)

[fallenrepublick]

Submitted by @afrostycatblr

Oh my gosh this is so cute! Exactly the Feral content we all needed

I've been working on this for like months or something because I'm so out of practice with writing fanfic so be gentle bUT I'm hoping to make a less-than-happy day a bit better by sharing something I think is cute :')

Like Family: Feral

He felt he had known you would get along with his family very early on; stuck, just like them, in a dusty little trading hub. The vessel Savage had… borrowed at that time turned out to be in very poor condition, and the landing was far from comfortable. It was almost a crash, really.

He couldn't recall why you had been stranded there, but could remember that you were trying to get to the same planet, but a different settlement as his brothers and himself. Your spacecraft was not going to be repaired in time (you had cargo that was on a deadline) and in desperation you pleaded with them to allow you aboard the new ship they had (Feral hoped legally) gotten. Maul had initially hesitated, but decided (incorrectly) that the strange botanist's cargo would be harmless and hardly an inconvenience to the Zabraks' plans, and allowed you to board with them.

Savage was quick to give you approval for smacking Feral's hand away before he could reach him just before Feral would have touched the strange bioluminescent flora that bore leaves appearing to be velvety soft. "No, don't!" Shrieking in panic and surprise, Feral cradled the swatted hand to his chest with great confusion. Her plants looked to be harmless, but her reaction said otherwise.

"Wh-why not?" Curse the Maker for his stammering.

"This flora shouldn't be handled by bare skin, it has a toxin proven to be a painful irritant when touched, and it's not native to many planets in this part of the galaxy. It's important that I don't cause any invasive species to threaten established flora."

"Dangerous cargo… why isn't it marked as much?" Savage tapped the side of the beat up metal-plated crate with the hilt of his saber, something that made the botanist nervous. Feral had been ready to encourage his brothers not to be angry, as Maul had now left the cabin at hearing dangerous cargo. When she had finished speaking, she looked mortified, sure she'd just sealed her fate. "I don't believe I mentioned that; apologies. It's  time-sensitive because it's dangerous cargo. And an accident destroyed my proper, approved crates. I've had quite the stroke of bad luck with the little things."

Would his brothers have shoved her out through an airlock? Dangerous cargo, misfortune, forgetfulness; it didn't sound good for her. Thank the Maker they hadn't.

Otherwise she wouldn't be here, with them years later, currently burrowing into his side as they sit around a fire, all four of them worn out by days of dealing with all sorts of unsavory types, and a Weequay pirate named Hondo.

She wouldn't be here to keep the peace during the interactions with Hondo, reminding Savage to be patient, be the listening ear to Maul as he seethed after failed negotiations and the like if they had unceremoniously launched her from the ship. But she had become a friend to each of his brothers, plus himself, and he felt that it was the most important thing out of everything else. She made sure to spend considerable amounts of time with him, first because Savage had asked her to because the 'business talk" upsetted him, eventually doing it of her own accord.

They grew closer from there.

So much closer, in fact, that earlier in the year she'd become his significant other - this his brothers had knowledge of. What they didn't know was the changing of his relationship status just some few days ago.

He'd asked to become her husband, she to become his wife. She'd accepted it with much excitement, surprise, and delight, much to great relief on Feral's part. The two of them just hadn't gotten the right opportunity or a peaceful atmosphere to share the happy news.

Until tonight, albeit accidentally.

A drunken Weequay pirate shuffled by just as Maul and Savage engage in playful ribbing, voices mean, understanding the intent was anything but. "Please, forget about Kenobi for a moment," Savage snarled, waving his hand dismissively, "you lived amongst wreckage and junk for a long time, of course your life is a mess!"

"How you wound me, brother mine, by stooping oh-so-low with infantile insults. We're men- at least insult me as such." Feral was a breath away from requesting his brothers stop before they meant the antagonistic banter when the Weequay spoke up, and said something following the demanding remark that Feral could never bear to repeat or remember. The moment was soured in an instant, Feral could feel his hearts still for just the blink of an eye.

"Oh, shut it, the lot of you, you kriffing Hutt-spawn! You're wasting your time here, and the boss won't do no tradin' with the likes of you!"

It took the three Zabrak men a moment to realize yes, the Weequay did in fact just call them Hutt-spawn. But their non confrontational, unassuming friend was quick to return the same venomous tone before Maul or Savage could have done anything about this miserable whelp. "Are you really looking to start trouble tonight, pirate? Because I'd advise you to apologise for your insults before I leave you with one working arm; you do not get to speak to them this way without consequence, between the two of us I'm the one who has the right to speak to them that way."

A stagger, indignant scoffing and a drizzle of the spirits the pirate had indulged himself with tonight spilled on his boots as he drew himself to his full height all preceded his retort in loud, challenging tones. "Oh yeah, that so? Then go on, little lady! Make me sorry! Or do you lack the teeth to put the power behind your bite?!"

"No one will insult my brother-in-laws so freely, so this is your final warning. Apologize."

Anger and arrogance fueled by inebriation worked in the botanist's favor as the harasser attempted to charge forward, intending to call her bluff when he fell flat on his face just as he implied she was spineless, tripping over loosened rock. At least that's what Feral will let her believe since she hadn't seen Savage use the Force to nudge the rocks underfoot at just the right time, while at the same time Maul had been quick to pull the woman back by her shoulders from Hondo's crewman. He didn't release her even when the crewman remained prone in the dirt unlikely to find his feet any time soon, amber eyes fixed with a scrutinizing gaze upon his brother's partner.

"What did you call us?"

Clearly confused, their friend gently shrugged to loosen Maul's grip on one of her shoulders, tensing at this strange, sudden behavior. "I'm uncertain what you're asking about, Maul."

"You said something about Savage and myself; what was it that you called us?"

"What I called-? By the Maker, all I'd called you and Savage were my brother-in-laws, there's no need for an interrogation! Feral and I just hadn't been able to make the time to tell you yet." She didn't know it, but there very well would be an interrogation now that the Loth-cat was out of the bag. It's just the way his brothers were with him, and now her too by extension. She was steered to sit near their fire once more, Savage and Maul now across from her once she was seated.

Savage would have sounded angry to anyone outside the family, but to everyone here it was plain his tone held nothing but curiosity regarding how this botanist was asked to become part of the family. "Well you have the time now, tell us!"

[sol-korolevas]

—𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

pairing: rk900 x gn!reader 

words: 8.2k+

summary: “there you are, the wound. the warning. what am i, then? the breach?” 

warning: super mild violence (for now)

note: gosh writing dbh brings me back to the days where i habitually upload at least one fic to the tag. it’s been several months since my last fic so i’m gonna need to rectify that :3c this work is inspired by a previous fic, but i added more meat into this one. rk900 is such a bastard in my book and i hope i do his bastardness some justice so enjoy!

Never show weakness. 

Weakness can be controlled and manipulated. It leaves you vulnerable to the mercy of the enemy; it’ll kill you. But weakness is also a human facet that’s ingrained into the mind. And it’s a remembrance to humanity’s mistakes and proof of the existence of humanity. 

Someone told you weakness cannot be shed, but you can tether it and guard it with your ferocity. 

And, they said, ferocity is precious. 

Wear it like a crown of fangs. 

Hold it as a gun, heavy and warm on the flesh of your hand.

“What did you do?” 

All of a sudden, you feel the oppressive stare of RK900 pushing down on you. When once you can easily respond in kind, you now feel at a loss. 

Control everything, even your weakest emotions. 

And yet, you still lost control. You pulled the trigger too early, believing that you had won. After the explosion comes reality, the world shatters, bending forward until it's weight pushes you down onto your knees. The gun in your hand slips out and clatters onto the ground beside you - now just a deadweight. The ringing is loud and you’re not sure if it's from the aftermath of the shooting or from your own mind. You cannot block out the noise no matter how close you press your palm to your ears. Suddenly, you have no idea where everything is anymore. All you can think about is the ‘why’s ‘and the ‘how’s’. 

“[Name]!” a familiar voice calls to you and you turn your gaze towards it, eyes watching with a pathetic plea for help. RK900’s icy stare run chills down your spine, even more so when he’s standing tall and looking down upon you like the wraith he is. 

He crouches then, setting his gun beside him, his body blocking away the sight behind him as he takes your chin and tilts it up. The gesture is tender, if not for the blankness of his stare. 

You sometimes forget he’s incapable of the fundamental kindness humans have. Within his barren heart is just the life force that keeps him moving. 

The void in his eyes stare back and you panic, reaching towards his wrist with both of your hands so you can wrap them around it. 

He doesn’t let go. 

“Why did you shoot the hostage, [Name]?” he murmurs, but the venom in his words is clear. “You were supposed to save it and you failed.” When you don’t respond, he squeezes your chin and, out of instinct, you attempt to stand, almost falling to the ground before RK900 grabs your shoulders and pushes you down.

“Don’t move,” he says. “Just answer my question.”

The flicker of emotion in his words terrifies you and it further reminds you of the catastrophe laid out in front. 

“I-I lost control of myself—” you choke out, eyes following RK900’s movement as he stands and walks toward the fallen android. 

Time becomes still. The ocean doesn’t smell like an ocean anymore as the scent of red and blue blood bloats the air. Even the gull birds’ cries have been swept away by the chill of the aftermath. Shadow drapes over the cargos; the area you are in is illuminated by dim lights - the strongest of which is cast over the pile of bodies. 

The only sound left is the click of his pristine shoes and your heart beating through your ear. 

Your body falls forward, elbows keeping you from fully meeting the ground, as you watch him crouch down and take out the thirium pump. There are black wires still connecting it to the android before RK900 rips the pump away. You see the red LED light on the fallen android’s temple blink rapidly until it goes blank. 

“What are you doing?” you ask in horror. 

“Cleaning up the mess you made, [Name],” Rk900 says, throwing you a brief glance over his shoulder. His words quickly silence you, the brevity of it all coming back after the initial shock of seeing RK900 doing this. 

He then takes the kidnapper’s gun and shoots the android in the forehead, before replacing the gun back into the kidnapper’s hand and once more into its chest. The skin on his arm is dissolved - a safety precaution. 

The light of his LED circulates yellow and orange as his skin eventually returns. You watch as RK900 begins to search for something, before finding it - a bullet - and picks it up. 

He’s feeling the weight of it, moving it around in his hold as if studying the shape. “I’ve wiped the cameras and cleared the android’s memory cache, now no one will know what happened.” 

“No, this is wrong,” you quickly say, scrambling up. But before you can move properly, your body tips forward from the fatigue. And RK900 is there to catch you, gripping your waist with one arm. Immediately you rip your gaze away, not wanting him to see you at your most vulnerable anymore. 

But in the end, RK900 wins - he always wins - as you turn your gaze to him. You notice the corner of his mouth twitch as if he’s going to smile. Instead, he says,“ ‘This is wrong’? Would it be better if I tell the command what you did then?” 

The numbness in your mind stops. 

Some sense finally floods in as you disassemble his words. There’s nothing but a grim reality for you if word gets out. If he speaks - if any of you speaks - then the years behind you will truly be lost, forever. And you’ll be marked by the sin you just committed. 

But this is no less criminal than what you just did. 

And despite it all, the naively moral person in you still wouldn’t relent. “Unfix all of this, RK900.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do, [Name],” he says, pressing the hand containing the bullet against yours., “Not when I am saving both of us.” 

There’s no ‘but’s’ and ‘if’s’; no hesitations either. It’s either a shaky road ahead or punishment. 

You must accept this and with acceptance, you slump your shoulders. But the grip on your waist tightens and you squeak, feeling soreness everywhere on your body. 

“So now it’s a secret, and we lie,” you manage to say, forcing yourself to look into RK900’s eyes. But it’s not easy with RK900, despite having a hand in this. The look of superiority so natural to him diminishes all hope of sympathy for your plight. Although you’re not looking for that; you’re now looking for a semblance of peace, more than ever. “Unless—” 

Your breath hitches as he tugs you closer, his pale lips brushing too close to the shell of your ear. 

“Unless you are not doing what we all agreed to,” he tells you, voice calm and collected. This is now personal to RK900, you can hear it by the hush of his words. He sees some kind of chance, some kind of reason to do what he did.

Except, he has no sense of monetary or material value. You know because he always plays by the book - he’s a military and police assistance designed to assist human officers. 

He wants one thing and one thing only. 

“You want me to continue to work as a police detective.” 

You watch as he chuckles, eyes creasing with a hint of pleasure glimmering underneath his stormy gaze. But the brief look of human emotion feels foreign; it’s a mask he wears. Underneath the light, he looks far more like a fiend. 

The thick blocky letters of his name fizzle in and out as you mindlessly cling onto the fabric of his shoulder. 

“Absolutely, but you’ll listen to me without question. No more rebellion, no more excuses- you’ll learn from me and build your profession with my assistance.” 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing manages to come out. In the past, he had always made it hard for you. You came in late, he scolds you; you forget a deadline, he scolds you; you talk too much with a coworker, he tells Fowler and then returns to mock you. To RK900, you’re too careless and naive - vastly different from the perfection that he is. 

To anyone else, RK900’s condition can be easy - normal even. But you know, underneath his request, is another demand. 

Absolute obedience. 

But now, everything is better than being fired. 

“Think of this as a punishment for you, [Name],” comes RK900’s voice. He still doesn’t release you, knowing that you hate unnecessary contact between himself and you more than anything in this world. You sense a certain kind of twisted pleasure forming in him, from the smugness in his tone to the way he looks at you. “And think of this as a lesson too, on why you should think before you act,” he adds. 

If you have a clearance of mind and of a stronger character, you would’ve argued back and taken control of the situation. Especially since you are his superior in both name and title. And under normal circumstances, you will absolutely rebel against him.  

He’s supposed to be underneath you, not the other way around. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you say, “Okay, I’ll work harder and accept your input.�� 

It’s hard to keep sarcasm away usually, but this time you’re serious. 

A part of you still doesn’t feel right. It feels like you’re closer to corruption - the opposite of what you want to be. Your cheeks are heating up and there’s a tremble to your limbs. The ringing in your ears is still present. 

“Very good, I know we can somehow come to a mutual agreement one day.” RK900 finally lets you go before passing a thumb across your cheek. You flinch and move away as far as you can. He knows you hate the agreement as much as he enjoys it. 

When you see him turn his back on you in the distance, you open your hand. The bullet is deformed. There’s a chance that no one will even know this bullet is shot by a different gun. You still have your gun with you. 

RK900 could’ve easily mentioned this and gave you peace of mind. 

And he must’ve transferred the memory cache into himself before wiping it away from the android. 

You’ve always thought he’s trying to work his way above you. 

Now you think he succeeded

“Detroit’s first android ambassador.” Fowler’s words are heavy and thick as he paces around his office. You and RK900 both watch in silence, standing side-by-side in front. The screen behind him flashes the news of what happened two days before. Every once in a while you see the frozen features of the android you shot, looking back at you. There’s no life in those empty-looking eyes. 

Nothing that gives a hint of it being once alive. 

Immediately, you look away. 

In one corner, you notice a small video screen with the leftover remnants of Markus’s rebellion speaking at a podium. It cuts off to Fowler speaking at a press conference, but the words are muted. 

You fucked up, you fucked up so bad and they don’t even know the other half of it. 

“Do you know the name of this android you’re saving, [Last]?” Fowler asks, nodding towards the screen where the android’s face appears. You want to look away, but you know it’ll only force you to dig a deeper grave. Fowler isn’t stupid; he knows all the tics in you from the moment you joined. There’s a reason why he’s here in this position. But Fowler doesn’t wait for an answer, because he says, “RK900, tell [Name] the name of the hostage that was supposed to be saved.” 

“Victor, sir,” RK900 says without hesitation. He doesn’t look at Fowler, instead, he keeps his gaze to the floor with an emotionless look on his face. He seems so passive and subservient; you couldn’t even hear the coldness in his voice. You’re not sure whether you like him like this or if you’re envious of Fowler because of RK900’s difference in demeanor. 

“Victor—” Fowler sits down on his office chair and brings his fingers together, his elbows resting on the desk— “Android-kind’s hope to rectify a long, long period of scorn and hate from the society that built them.” 

He sighs, huffing out a breath. “At least there are still other ambassadors willing to meet us.” 

You look up from your gaze on the floor, noticing the way Fowler’s shoulders sag as he picks up a picture frame. There’s a brief flash of tenderness in his eyes before he sets down the frame and looks back at you. 

“I’ve asked Hank to make sure the other android ambassadors are all safe - put them in witness protection if need be.” 

“That’s a very good plan, sir,” RK900 replies. 

Fowler is still looking pointedly at you, his face unwavering in the seriousness of the situation. You know your face is cracked, splitting between guilt and remorse. To the unknowledgeable outsider, they would think it’s from the failed hostage extraction. 

Silence slowly brews and Fowler is awaiting a response from you. RK900’s knuckles brush against yours in an effort to make you talk without verbalizing his intentions. 

You know you need to speak - you want to speak - but all the words catch in your throat. Even your mind is in chaos; it wants to justify what you did while putting in caution to not let slip of what really happened; it wants to come up with ways to make some kind of amendment, some kind of solution to all this. 

But, none of this can rewind time and bring Victor back. 

“Why did you allow the kidnapper to shoot the hostage?” 

You tense, suddenly hearing the gunshot ring inside your ear again and the painful feeling of your knees hitting the ground. But amidst the chaos, RK900’s footsteps going towards the pile of bodies echoes with clarity. You still remember all the words he said, the promise he made to you, and the promise you made to him. And then, when you finally find yourself coming up with an explanation, you realize you couldn’t. 

Years before you promised yourself not to fall into the depths of corruption - as both a civilian and as police. 

But, oh, how the tables turned. 

“I-I won’t lie, we did fail, and—” you pause just as you feel RK900’s hand bump into the back of yours. It’s a deliberate act; it’s him warning you not to tell. And you look at him - at his face - and see the faint furrow of his dark brows and the set of his jaw. He doesn’t look back, but you can already feel his voice playing against your mind. 

Keep quiet.  

RK900’s hands are now folded behind his back as he takes one step forward. “We tried initiating contact with the kidnapper as diplomatically as possible, but when he saw us, he struck. I believe he meant to kill the hostage anyway; it was merely a game for him.” He spoke with such calmness that Fowler must believe it. 

And Fowler does - you watch him shake his head, his eyes looking to a spot beside your leg. “So it seems as if he’s playing with you - only to end up killing Victor and then himself.” He inhales sharply, before breathing out as he gazes back at you. “And I suppose you were the one who shot the kidnapper?” 

“Yessir,” you say, words slurring a little - a lack of eloquence and professionalism as RK900 would put it. You briefly look away, fingers picking at the fabric of your dress shirt. 

“Captain,  [Name]’s safety was also important - especially when they’re still new to all of this.” 

The words sting more than they should. Most because you know in some way RK900 is hiding his own opinion of you underneath a fake tone of sympathy and concern for you. In the end, he’s still the dominant voice and the dominant mind. 

You can tell Fowler right now about the degree to which RK900 made you obey him and work until he is satisfied. You once thought about lying to Fowler that you suspect RK900’s a deviant - despite being assured he cannot deviate. But you’re neck-deep in a lie right now and you don’t suppose RK900 will let you off this easily. 

And Fowler may not trust androids completely yet but he seems to have full faith in RK900’s responsibilities to assist you as both partner and mentor. Regardless of how many boundaries crossed, Fowler will not be able to regulate that because RK900 isn’t human. 

“For now I can look past your rookie mistake, but if the higher-ups question it, I’ll be forced to bring you back into this office for a thorough investigation. Mark my words, [Name], count your blessings now because I damn hope nothing comes out of it.”

This is the kindest Fowler has ever said to you in your work environment. 

“Thank you for your words, Captain,” you say, straightening your back. 

He nods his head, saying, “I expect a report from you by the end of your shift tonight, [Name].” He then reaches for something, a picture frame, before pausing. “You know, I sense a change in you. You’re not like who you were when you were younger.”

You understand Fowler is expecting an answer from you, but you feel trapped by what he said. A part of you feels confused, wanting him to explain. 

You then take a look at RK900, briefly wondering if he’ll say something. He’s looking at you instead, icy eyes watching you back, that telltale sign of condescension glimmering in his gaze. You immediately look back, staring at the group of picture frames on Fowler’s desk. 

“Yes, I understand,” is your only response, but you know it’s not the answer you nor Fowler wanted. 

You thank Fowler again and leave his office, the burdening feeling of something amiss follows you.

“I work better without someone hovering over me.”

You don’t feel the movement behind you or the heavyweight of RK900’s gaze sliding away. The intensity of his presence continues focusing on you, eventually forcing you to stop typing and push your chair away from your desk. 

“I believe right now would be a perfect time for you to work,” comes his smooth response. He’s standing beside you, stiff and straight. He’s a thoughtless being who’s realistically programmed to act and do a certain way. But now he looks as if he’s hiding away his thoughts as you look at him. You try not to glare at RK900; it’s unprofessional. But your annoyance isn’t well-hidden either as you return your focus back onto the screen. 

The DPD is empty except for you, Fowler, and RK900. Everyone else has their usual schedule of nine-to-five. It’s been such a common occurrence for you personally to be here earlier that you’re now used to it. 

“And within ten minutes the others will arrive,” you say, picking up a pen, “You can’t expect me to finish this report by then, won’t you?” Your attempt to sound less biting fails; if it is any other person speaking you would’ve been kinder. 

At least, you want to believe it so. 

“Do you even know how to write a status report?” His words are sharp and blunt as ever. Much to your abject horror, he’s reading the document. He doesn’t need to physically control it to do so; he can hack. You watch him narrow his gaze, eyes scrutinizing every word you typed. 

Silence folds over you as you pick at your thumb, now childishly put into a corner and unable to speak. You know you hold yourself accountable for your lack of attention to the finer aspects of reporting, but as RK900 begins deleting and re-editing your current progress, you know he’s trying to get underneath your skin. 

“Use what I wrote as a guide,” he finally says, stepping back for you to read, “I assume the police academy never taught you how to write.” There’s a teasing lilt in the last of his words, but it means so much more than that to you. 

Leaning in, you begin to type, using what he wrote as guidance, just as he directed. You’ve written reports before, for your high school classes and some of college. And it’s not that which is hard; it’s him, all him. 

“I understand you loathe my being here, but we agreed to it, [Name].”

You stop typing once more, feeling the familiar ring pulsing in your ear. “I don’t need to be reminded.” 

He never said you have to be formal to him. And in some way, you still want to show him his true place. 

RK900 raises his chin, his arms clasped behind him. He’s really looking down on you in the most literal sense. “I’m also doing what I’m programmed to do.” RK900’s tone is surprisingly soft this time as if his response is intimately between you and him. “And if you can’t write something simple as a report, then I would suggest you take remedial classes somewhere so you can.” 

“I thought you’re going to assist me, RK900.”

“With police work, not writing,” comes his terse response. 

“No more rebellion, no more excuses- you’ll learn from me and build your profession with my assistance.” 

He takes his duty of being your partner and guide to a much higher level than you had anticipated. And you fully understand that RK900 was built like this. 

Except—

The need to hide and destroy evidence wasn’t - no, shouldn’t be - programmed into him. 

Many times you’re not even sure you know what RK900 is. Time and time again something tells you he’s a deviant, but the high collar of his uniform and the promise by Cyberlife attests to something else entirely. And his strict adherence to serving humans far exceeded his capabilities of free-thinking. 

Just the simple thought of his role in that makes you shiver. 

But as you start typing again, you feel the tip of RK900’s fingers settle on the back of your hand and you turn your face towards him, silently asking for a reason. 

“Except for that little bit of rebellion back there, you’re doing wonderful,” he tells you, voice soft. The smugness returns as a vague smirk plays on his lips. You furrow your brows and ignore him, steadily keeping your eyes on the monitor as your fingers resume the typing. 

“Would you like me to tell the rest not to bother you?” 

Before you can respond, you hear footsteps coming into the precinct. 

Swiveling your chair around, you see Gavin first, his hands slipped inside his jeans, followed by Chris in his uniform, and Hank walking behind. And Connor, much to your disappointment, must have finally made his decision to leave the DPD. 

“Why you gotta upstage us again, Rookie?” Gavin says, holding his hands out. 

You are then greeted by Chris and Hank as they take their seats. Except for Gavin, who is still waiting for you to respond. A side of you is relieved he’s here; as annoying as he is, he brightens the place. But, on the other hand, RK900’s still here too. 

And before you can react, RK900 is standing firm beside you. A look of displeasure is on his face, lips thin and eyes pointedly looking at Gavin. “Detective Reed, my partner has a name you should use.” 

You reach for the cuff of RK900’s sleeve and grip it, pulling it against his wrist. “Don’t meddle, please.” 

Despite your attempt to keep your words between you and him, Gavin hears and reacts with a smirk. 

“Yeah, ‘don’t meddle’ you stone-faced robot,” he says, sneering. The look of ill-disguised contempt washes over his face as he crosses his arm. “This conversation is between me and Rookie, yeah?” His last words are directed at you, brown eyes flickering over to you, silently asking for input. 

“It’s—” you look back up to RK900, figuring that in the end, it’s better to placate him than Gavin— “I shouldn’t talk while at work.” Your words suddenly feel foreign and you want to sink into your chair. 

Meanwhile, Gavin stares at you, one eyebrow raising as he places his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Huh, you sound odd today.” He then waves his hand out and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, whatever, you do what you gotta, I guess.” 

You and RK900 both watch as Gavin takes his seat near the entrance. 

Then, RK900 moves until he’s blocking Gavin’s entire desk and figure, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by your eyes. 

“Unrefined wretch - his immaturity will cost him his reputation as the face of Detroit.” 

“You have no business judging him,” is your response. You lean back into your chair and cross your legs, partially relieved that the tension has subsided for now between Gavin and RK900. Yet still, another remains, hovering in-between RK900 and you now. Your lips press together, heel rubbing against the tile floors, attempting to strike down the budding irritation in you. 

“RK900—” you turn your chair until you can fully face him— “Why do you hate everyone so much? You respect Captain Fowler but only because of his status, right?” 

Strategically, it’s uncouth of you to ask such a question, especially during work-hours. You aren’t privy to the notion that anyone can hear you discuss this, or that RK900 himself might be displeased with the question. And true to your thought, he is, as his mouth curls into a frown. 

“They are all nobodies to me,” he says, words cool and even. But his eyes are an unbridled storm of hard edges. He lowers himself, bending at one knee as he looks you straight in your eyes. “You may have a good standing with them, but not me - I’m only programmed to work with them.” He presses three fingers on your knee and stands up. 

“Do with it as you will, [Name], but I am your partner.” 

You blink, but silently you acknowledge his response.

RK900 is right, however. He cannot develop relations with others aside from a strict work code. And there is a contrasting clash between him and people like Gavin, whose casual and carefree manner doesn’t adhere to the serious business professionalism of Rk900. Thus, easy enmity flourishes and that in itself surrounds every other individual RK900 meets. 

Hank and Chris now only ever talk to you outside of work. 

You feel just a bit more out of touch with everyone, but it’s not your place to argue when you should be putting those extra time to do your duties. 

RK900 left for maintenance after you finished your report. 

With his absence comes a peace that feels surreal, almost fake. His access to your phone and personal computer means he can send you case files and even message you if he finds it necessary. But knowing he’s going for maintenance means he won’t be able to do any of that for a few hours. 

And hopefully, nothing changes during that time. 

The last thing you need is someone finding the stored memory cache of that night. 

“Don’t think about it,” you tell yourself as you slip on your messenger bag. 

Before you can leave, Chris stops you. “Hey [Name].” 

He looks around, then says, “I was going to tell you this, but RK900 was there and I don’t want to end up like Gavin.” You see a nervous look on his face when he mentions RK900, which you wouldn’t fault him at all for. 

“Don’t worry, RK900’s in CyberLife headquarter now,” you tell him, adjusting the strap of your bag. 

“Oh, that’s a relief!” Chris answers, sighing. “Connor wants to meet you, Hank’s supposed to be the messenger but he got work to do. You can find Conner at the old playground - you’ll know which one.” 

There’s a beat in-between, before he adds, “Best not to mention it to RK900.”

“—and I cannot believe the process of finding an apartment,” Connor says, leaning against the black railing with a smile on his face. “But it’s liberating, there’s so much detail that I can decide for myself. Hank helped too; he argued with the agent and he must’ve worked something out because the next thing I know, he’s handing me the key.” 

He smiles and rubs his hands together. 

“It sounds like you really liked the experience,” you tell him. You watch as his shoulders shake, but he’s not laughing. Smile pulling into a frown, you touch his shoulder and say, “Are you cold?” 

“Yeah, my internal system sometimes gets sensitive during cold weather - I’ve replaced it with older parts.” He doesn’t look at you, instead, he keeps his focus onto the view ahead, where the ocean stretches until it hits the coast. Dark clouds curl from the factory chimneys in the distance, reminding you of the days spent bicycling through the empty streets, wanting to go inside one of those factories where your parents worked. 

And you don’t miss the way Connor’s tone changes when he utters those last words. It’s been a year since he left CyberLife and ever since then, both good and bad changes have come for him. Freedom for the exchange of degradation and a life of half-scorn and half-hope. 

You gleaned some of Connor’s experience from Hank. But you never had the chance to fully understand. 

A part of you doesn’t want to; comforting words isn’t something you can effortlessly gift to someone. 

“You think I can make it through this year?” Connor asks, clasping his hands tightly. He’s looking down, face full of solemnity and a vague sense of defeat. He doesn’t speak much about this kind of worry to anyone, so you are left struck with the realization that he trusts you enough to say this to you. 

You suddenly feel burdened and undeserving of that trust. 

You shake your head, silently gazing at the space between the two chimneys in the distance. The material of your scarf’s able to hide your mouth, but it cannot hide the frown from your face. “Of course you will,” you tell him, placing your hands on the railing, “You won’t break - I promise.” 

The phone in your pocket vibrates and you place a hand over the pocket and hesitates. 

Connor turns to face you and tilts his head. “[Name], is something wrong?” 

The voice in you wants to answer him that yes, something’s wrong. It’s RK900 calling, because it’s always him that cares too much to call you when you’re off work. No matter how much the deafening voice is telling you now to answer and yell at him, you can’t. Connor is here and this moment is for him. 

“Yes, but it’s there’s always a little wrong if you’re me,” you say, chuckling. 

His gaze softens and you don’t miss the way he smiles fondly at you. And despite the problems he’s facing, it’s always easy to see him do that. You’re not certain if he’s just like that or if there’s something you don’t know about it. But this is the Connor you’re most familiar with and you terribly miss having him in the DPD. 

And since he’s here—

“Would you ever think of coming back to the DPD?” 

Surprise appears on his face, taken aback by your abrupt question. He doesn’t respond but the LED blinks rapidly in orange. You don’t want to make it too serious of a question to worry him so you look away and pretend he said no. Connor deserves a break - a long one anyway - and it’s not like there are no androids like him out there who can fill in his space. 

Once upon a time, you thought he would be a good replacement. 

“If you don’t want to, I understand, but—” you stop yourself, taking in a shuddering breath as you attempt to collect your nerves. It’s unsavory - perhaps even pathetic - of you to want Connor back. But it’s the wishful knowledge that you can see his warm smile in the DPD rather than just the cold gray eyes of RK900 is a thought of comfort. 

You feel uneasy and you begin to adjust the strap on your messenger bag. The weight beside you is a welcoming right now.��

“No, I would like that,” Connor says, smiling. And you can see it, the flicker of hope in his honey-brown eyes. “I would love to work with Hank again, and I would love to work with you on a case together,” he adds, placing his arm behind his back. Then the grin on his face settles back as he looks to the ground. 

“But—” 

“But you can’t,” you finish for him, trying to sound as gentle as possible. Both you and Connor know this, that it’s an unspoken rule in DPD that Connor cannot work anymore. He’s ineffective, old, and useless according to his makers and the numerous flaws on his body has rendered him incapable to be on most cases anyway. 

But there’s another truth that overshadows everything else. 

“My presence isn’t particularly well-liked there.” He laughs, but it’s forced and absent of his usual light humor. You know he’s upset about this - it pains him to not be able to do something he truly loves to do. 

“It’s RK900, isn’t it?”

Connor looks back up at you and he frowns. He’s still for a moment, the wind brushing through his dark brown hair. Stray strands linger across his forehead, hiding the LED behind them. “My successor will be the first to have objections. I don’t think Detective Reed would like me back either, considering our last meeting involved my fist to his face.” 

“Fuck RK900,” you say, voice louder. You feel the sole of your boots digging into the thin trace of snow as you step forward. “He doesn’t own you and even I have more jurisdiction than him. Gavin’s long forgotten about that incident and I’m damn sure even he would rather it’s you in there than him.”

The fierceness in your words doesn’t betray the way your hands shake. You know it’s wrong to force Connor to come back. But your own selfishness far outcries the sensibility within you at this moment. 

Connor blinks, taken aback by your sudden response. You feel the creep of warmth through your cheeks the more time passes, especially when you realize he’s assessing you. That is something Connor will never part with, that instinct-like need to observe first.

But before you can talk more, a pair of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, breaks the silence between you. 

Immediately, you feel the warmth that had risen a moment before ebb back into a cold void. In the same moment you attempt to step forth, you decide to step back instead. Cold eyes stare at you, but you couldn’t find the previous energy you had to even look properly. 

“RK900.” And it’s Connor who said the first word, calling to his successor in the same clinical manner Rk900 would speak in towards everyone around him. All of a sudden, the [person] who spoke with tenderness is gone, his entire facade now hardwired into that of a near-emotionless being. 

And RK900, who up until now has been looking at you, turns his gaze toward him. He’s not in the Cyberlife issued white and black uniform but in a black turtleneck sweater and dark fitted jeans and polished black oxfords. Even so, the entirety of his form recalls the usual coldness of his existence. 

You’re aware that the same situation as this morning will happen again. But that was different; the one in front of him had been Gavin. 

This time, it’s Connor and he’s—

“A deviated failure, how quaint,” comes RK900’s venomous words, but it’s only concealing the darker intentions underneath. You’re not sure who to push back or who to tell to stand down. 

But you know who is more likely to act first. 

“RK900, that’s enough; we’re leaving.” In your attempt to break the dangerous tension, you wedge yourself between him and Connor, before pushing yourself against RK900. The uncomfortable closeness only makes you nervous, but the need to separate them far outweighs your own distress. “This is an order!” you add, realizing that RK900’s not moving. 

Neither Connor nor RK900 has said anything about your involvement, although they may be too focused on each other to care. This is dangerous, you know, because if they clash then no one - not even a military-trained soldier - can break them apart. 

The last time someone tried, it broke their arm. 

And that someone was you. 

You’re not certain you want to mentally live another day if something like this happens again. 

Suddenly, you feel a palm on the back of your shoulder. RK900’s glancing down at you and you look up, desperately trying to plead to him to go. 

Don’t make the same mistake, don’t harm him. 

“Is this why [Name] wants me back? Because of you?” 

You freeze, realizing this will never end unless one of them relents. You can still remember the first time, but now is not the time to relish in the past. And now that Connor has spoken, you know RK900 will make sure he gives him an answer. 

Turning your gaze, you see his jaws tense and the glimmer of hunger in RK900’s eyes. A tightness forms in your chest as you change your position and attempt to pull him by his arm. It’s useless; RK900 is as much a stone as he is a war machine. 

“Oh, worry not, we don’t miss you—” he breaks, eyes flitting back to you with a look of heavy disapproval on his face— “And certainly not [Name].” The last of his words are also for you, but well-hidden enough that only you know. 

Connor’s hand curls into a tight fist and no doubt is he thinking of using it like he did with Gavin. You can see it in the tenseness of his jaws, the wrinkle of flesh between his brows, and the narrowing of his eyes. The potent hostility between them only builds and builds despite the time in-between their previous meeting. 

And RK900 sees this, it makes him sneer in a show of dominance. 

“Are you really sure you want to fight me here? In a discarded playground?” The mocking tone in his voice is strong enough that you know it’s meant to enrage Connor. 

It’s working too. The red on Connor’s LED is flashing dangerously underneath the strands of hair covering it. 

As much as you want to see RK900 defeated, you know you cannot let Connor pull the punch first. 

“We’re leaving now, RK900, or I promise you I’ll tell Fowler about this,” you whisper, uncaring now of what happens in the future between you and him. 

“And what then? Don’t make me remind you of your position right now,” is his response. 

You see Connor looking at you, concern written across his face. “What does he mean by that?” 

For a moment, all eyes are on you as you attempt to come up with an answer. Once again you feel like a prey underneath the oppressive eyes of RK900. Still, you stand your ground and keep your hands on his arms. “Nothing, there’s nothing really.” A fake calmness is in your voice, one that you know Connor must’ve seen through. You tug once more at RK900’s arm, uncaring whether or not it’s too harsh of a gesture. 

“[Name]—” But before he can finish his sentence, RK900 has turned, finally allowing you to pull him away. “[Name] wait!” You hear Connor walking forward, attempting to stop you. But you throw him a look, a silent plea for him to not come. 

Not long after, the playground’s out of your line of sight. 

You’re going home, the waning frustration having worn away any semblance of peace in you. But the budding anger feels like fangs gnawing at the back of your mind. You don’t think you’ll get any sleep tonight and be able to wake up tomorrow either. 

But you also cannot go home, because RK900 is following you even though you’ve walked and walked. The feeling of his cold stare is like a knife stabbing at your back. So you stop, having walked into an alleyway that’s a detour to your apartment, and you turn to face him. 

He also stops, standing just a few feet away, eyes settling upon your own. The longer the seconds tick by, the more irate you become and the more nervous you feel. So many times you feel like you’ve been cornered by him. Now that you’re physically cornered, the hair on the back of your neck is slowly standing stiff and a sharp coldness runs down your back. 

“I’m off work.” The calmness in your tone surprises you, but you know that calmness will quickly subside the moment something snaps. The glance you give him is only a warning; hell, it’s a learned reaction from him. But, you’re not finished and the flame within you is blazing stronger and stronger still.“And don’t you think it’s unprofessional of you to try to antagonize an ex-coworker?” 

“I never regretted my decision,” RK900 says, clasping his arms together behind his back. 

“And the first time it happened?” 

“That was a mistake.” 

You almost laugh, knowing all too well the pain that coursed through your arm when it got broken. Everything was so muddled back then, your memory, that is. So you’re not sure who was the one that broke your arm. You want to blame RK900, but you don’t want to bend that low. 

“We all make mistakes, [Name],” RK900 says, sharp gaze stubbornly holding yours, neve letting you go. 

We all make mistakes. 

Right. 

“It’s a bit late now, isn’t it?” you say, words harsh but, in your mind, appropriate. And it’s not like it has a singular meaning. Your own bitterness towards yourself is still there, etched into the very words. Whether or not RK900 notices this is his problem. 

And you’ve run out of patience to wait for him to respond.

You turn and continue making your way out of the alley and into the street, where fluorescent lights decorate each shop. There are only a few civilians out, the distinction between whether or not any of them is an android or not now blurred by their lack of uniforms and LEDs. 

This time, you remain en route to your apartment, wanting nothing but the comfort of your bed. And when the familiar off-white color of the building appears in your line of vision, you walk faster. 

But before you can fish out your keys and unlock the double doors, a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Why are you following me?” It’s easy now for you to tell apart his hand from others - there’s always a strength to it. You also don’t miss the intrusive warmth behind your back. 

This time, you turn out of your own will. The sun hasn’t set yet and you can see RK900 staring back at you, face blank - almost serene. 

“I have a question for you, and I hope you may answer it,” he says, voice low. 

“A question for me,” you say, sounding out each word slowly. Again, the nagging feeling of wanting to laugh, to scream at him, gnaws at the edge of your brain. You just want to go home and he’s not even giving you that luxury. 

RK900 seems to sense it too because for a moment you notice the way he frowns before he reigns his expression back. “If you had answered my call, I wouldn’t have to chase you down like this.” 

“Thought you were in maintenance.”

“I can still access the phone application installed in me - you should already know that.” 

You press a hand to your face and slide it down hard. You do, you do know he can call you whenever he pleases. It’s not like that was the first time he attempted to do so. 

But sometimes it’s easier to lie. 

“Okay,” you say, fully giving up now. “I’m all ears.” 

You think he’s going to talk about Connor, again. But, no, he doesn’t because you notice there’s no trace of displeasure on his face, yet. Instead, he says, “No matter what, I want to remind you all that I did and am doing is for you, [Name].” He closes in, his body now just inches before you. Thankfully no one’s walking the street right now except for a few passing cars. 

Your hands are up, ready to push him away, but you stop, letting them linger in the air. “You could change, you know. Be nicer, be better.” It’s hesitant, the way you say those words, and perhaps naive in the way you told it. 

“And why should I?” he asks, leaning closer. “Would kindness protect you from the world? Wasn’t it your own kindness that left you injured?” He’s glaring down at you, attempting to trap you in a corner again. You cannot take a step back, the door is right behind you. 

“I know you wanted Connor to replace me, I’ve known since you first met him,” he adds, sensing that you wouldn’t be responding any time sooner. 

He’s right. And although you question how he knew, you realize it’s too late to find out. But do you even care if he knows? It may be better for him to know he’s not all that superior if he’s second at best. 

“That doesn’t mean I won’t honor our agreement,” is your response. “And I only wanted Connor back in the DPD and not as my partner.” You take in a deep breath, mind now burning with the need to stray away from this, all of this. 

Your attempt to sound confident in front of his presence only makes you seem like a trapped animal even more. Yet still, you place your hands on his chest, holding him at a distance. RK900 reacts with a chuckle, much to your relief, as he stays. 

“Even if the broken one comes back, he will never make you a better version of yourself. Remember [Name], your dream? You told me about it when we first met; you said you wanted to become a police lieutenant at least. You want to earn it through hard and honest work. You have a powerful dream, [Name], and I fully intend to see it happen.” 

The conviction in his words shatters you. You know RK900 is incapable of lying, maybe hide facts and manipulate it, but never outright lie. At least, not to you. And you do remember what you told him before. That wide-eyed new member of the DPD, staring at their future android partner and telling it their wish. That was all you. 

But to know he knows of your dream baffles you. He’s efficient, merciless, and stoic - a well-built machine. And to think he remembers something as insignificant as your dream makes you want to believe he’s something more. 

RK900’s hand suddenly drapes over your own, causing your shoulder to stiffen. 

“Kindness is a choice [Name]. ” 

He’s slowly pushing your arms down. 

RK900 then steps back, his focus still lingering on you. “I see it, from time-to-time, but it should be directed elsewhere. If you can use something more efficient, I believe you’ll make it.” 

And he puts his hand up and waves briefly at you. Wordlessly, you wave back. 

“And [Name]–” he stops himself, eyes searching for something on you— “I forgot to mention this, but if you don’t need me anymore, I will be forced to deactivate and taken apart. They will see into my memory cache if it happens; remember that.” 

RK900 doesn’t wait for your response. 

Seconds pass and you feel yourself slumping against the door. 

This is all a ploy, one could even admit to saying it was a selfish act of benevolence. 

But it’s still not right. You want to believe RK900 is still an android, too crude and unrefined to be anything more than what he already is.

He’s only doing this because that’s what he’s programmed to believe in. 

Unconsciously, your fingers touched the back of your hand. 

You can feel the phantom warmth of his hand, urging you to comply. 

Your phone vibrates with an incoming call. It’s Saturday and you’re off, but the chance to be called on-duty is enough for you to rouse yourself. Sluggishly, you lean over and grab your phone. Several empty cups of ramen fall down before you find it. 

Looking at the screen, you notice that it’s not a number in your contacts. 

Surely it belongs to a telemarketer. 

But right after you slide it close, the same number calls you again. 

This time, you answer it. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, [Name].”

You feel your heart drop. “Markus?” 

note: YIKES i hope you guys like this. i’ve never experimented with long chaptered fics before and as a writer in general i’ve been rusty. i don’t fully intend to make this story any longer than 2-part unless i get some neat ideas going. plus, if you haven’t known, i suck at updating multi-chapters ^^; 

[bizlawgal]

I got a prompt I would like to share 😊. Emma flirts with norman everyday. From the smallest ways to the most cheesy pick up lines. Then, why he doesn't understand? Most of the time he just blushes looks to other side and then changes the subject. She feels really stupid and embarrassed and now she has to explain it to norman. EXPLAIN SOMETHING TO NORMAN omg.

I’m bad at pick-up lines, so I hope I somehow had given justice to this prompt HAHA.

I.

It’s been a week since she last visited. 

But instead of the friendly blonde she’s come to know, her eyes immediately fall on someone’s silver hair from the counter.

He looks up from his desk, and she can already see in his eyes the wonder in the form of azure and carnation.

"Good morning, miss," he casually greets with that ever-endearing soft smile he serves his guests. "What can I do for you today?"

She comfortably presses her elbows on top of the counter, instantaneously taken by him. 

Just calling him handsome is an understatement.

"Oh, nothing. Just glad to see a friendly face in the morning."

He looks surprised with the comment, but hedges forward with what he's trained and paid to do. "This library certainly has a lot of friendly faces."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about the others," she implies without a second thought, "I was talking about you. You must be new here."

"Y-yes," he stutters, something he's not proud of, especially when he's talking to a rather lovely guest that he's seen for the first time.

"Whenever I check out a book, it's always that pretty blonde who always assists me. Have you seen Anna?"

There's a joyous vibrato to how she says it like she's telling a story to a friend, heightening the glistening of her eyes.

He blushes at the sight of her, so he offers an explanation to her question to keep his expression neutral. "I'm sorry. Anna resigned a week ago, so I’ll be solely in charge of everyone’s accounts. Is there anything I can help you with now?"

"Oh, I see.” She nods her head in understanding. “Anyway, I'm Emma, and the only thing you can help me with now is telling me your name."

She's interesting, he thinks. "I'm Norman. Do you have any questions I can help you with?"

Satisfaction crosses her face and he instantly ponders as to why her smile feels like the sun radiating on him.

"Okay, Norman. I have one question," she says with her playful eyes that implies to be too endearing at the same time. "Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come again?"

II.

"You're early today, Emma," Norman says as soon as he catches wind of her from the corner of his eye.

She merely whistles a tune, faint sounds of footsteps making their way towards him. "I'm always right on time, you know."

"It has only been seven minutes since we opened up the library." He raises an eyebrow, skepticism covering his face. "Don't tell me you're here to lounge around? Did you always do this when Anna was around?"

"And if I did? I'm bored, Norman," she remarks in the tone of a whine. "Is there anything I could do while I wait for you to finish?"

He draws an exhaustive sigh at the dilemma in front of him. She's been visiting for straight days over the last two weeks, and all she's ever checked out was a single book. Norman can't decipher what has gotten this young lady visiting the library so often.

But he won’t deny the exhilarating feeling of knowing that his company is something that she’s keen on having.

She may just be a lost soul looking for ways to entertain herself in the vastness of this city's library.

"If you have no plans to check out a book, at least take a seat in one of the available couches. I'll attend to you shortly."

Emma seems satisfied with the idea. She merrily makes her way to the nearest couch and comfortably settles herself with its backrest.

Not even a minute longer, Norman feels the piercing stare emanating from his back. His keen senses are to thank for, and clearly, it was sharp as a dagger since he instantly comes in contact with her eyes.

"You're staring," he simply reckons.

"No, I'm not." She doesn’t even deny it.

It's taking everything in him not to blush and be conscious of her gaze that is enough to question a man of his current stature.

"Yes, you are."

"Hmm, really?” She rubs out both of her eyes and blinks excessively at the ceiling. “I think there's just something wrong with my eyes."

Norman places the book he has on hand in its proper place and goes ahead to check on her condition. He moves closer to get a good view of her face when he asks, "What's wrong with your eyes?"

And when he's close enough that she moves her lips to his ear and whispers, "I just can’t take them off of you."

III.

It's been a month since Emma started invading his professional space of employment. He has no qualms about it, yet her presence has been, in more ways, confusing than comforting.

Aside from her lack of tact and overwhelming recklessness, he has nothing to complain about.

Except for her outrageous pick-up lines.

Some are cheesy. Others are funny, and most of the time, it ridiculously just takes his breath away.

"How much does a penalty cost when I fail to return a book after its deadline?" she asks him from the counter on a Saturday.

He shakes his head in amusement. "Are we talking about that engineering book that you've failed to return even after my countless reminders?"

"Maaaaaybeeee," she chimes back.

"It'll be a dollar if we're counting for nearly a month of its overdue fine."

"I see you’re good with Math," she ponders for a moment, the side of her lips twitching for a smile.

"I’m fairly good with numbers," he informs back while encoding the newly-released textbook on his laptop.

"I’m no mathematician, but I’m pretty good with numbers, too! " she points a finger at him, "Tell you what, give me yours and watch what I can do with it."

Norman nearly chokes on his own saliva.

IV.

He likes her.

He likes her enough to the point that his head immediately sways to the door the moment it opens; to the point that her laughter brings him an immeasurable amount of joy by just hearing it; and, to the point that he wishes time would stop so that he'd get to hear more of her little pick-up lines.

So when she steps foot inside the library for today, all his attention is remotely diverted to her.

"Good morning, Norman," she greets enthusiastically from the door, a bright mop of orange hair blossoming from her back and a grin to match the glee in her eyes.

Norman instantly sprints to meet her halfway, but loses his balance and falls flat on the wooden floors.

Emma quickens her pace to assist his sorry state. "Norman! Norman! Are you okay?"

"I-It's nothing," he groans the words out, "The floor must've been slippery."

Emma gives out a peal of low laughter before placing his right arm over her shoulders and supporting him to stand up. "You know, you should be careful where you fall."

Norman senses that it's going to be another one of her pick-up lines so he listens attentively, despite the searing pain on his chin. "And where do you suppose I should fall?"

"You may fall from the sky, you may fall from a tree, but the best way to fall… is in love with me," she ardently chants as they walk side by side to a vacant seat.

He bites the insides of his cheeks because this is the best one he's heard from her yet.

V.

It's closing time and Emma has taken it upon herself to help him return every borrowed book to its proper placement on the shelf. She’s been awfully quiet, Norman internally infers, with the way she shoves the books back with less delicacy than the previous ones. Her eyebrows are knitted into a frown and her lips are sullen into a pout. 

If she doesn’t appear to be vindictive about something, he thinks it’s an adorable expression out of her.

"Norman." Her voice is stern and less cheerful than the usual, and it makes him pause for a moment. "You look smart enough to me."

"So I've been told."

"But, why are you dumb?"

This statement makes him stop altogether. "I am... what?"

"I think you're dumb," she emphasizes without averting her gaze.

He doesn't even take offense since this is the first time she used such a tone against him. "How am I dumb?"

"Because!" she crosses her hands to her chest in an offensive stance, "I've been flirting with you for over a month, and you always seem to brush me off. My brother said that saying pick-up lines are a good way to go! Is it not working or are you just dumb not to notice?"

Emma is too free and direct — unbound to any chain from halting herself from freely speaking her mind. Her intentions are too pure for his sake and it's taken him more than a month to come up with a response.

"I'm not dumb, Emma," his voice is low and raspy against the stammering of his heart.

She appears taken aback. "So, do you know I'm flirting with you?"

So blunt, yet so efficient. "Yes, I know."

"Do you... not like me?" The will to look at him is gone, only replaced by uneasiness and dejection. “I can stop if you don’t —”

His grin won't falter back, so he allows it to creep into his lips. She's been making too many obvious attempts for him not to notice for over a month and it's high time he returns the favor.

"I like you. It’s just that... I’ve never liked a girl before. I’m sorry if it looked like I wasn’t interested. But — " he takes a step closer to reach for her braid, “I really like you, Emma. You and your silly pick-up lines.”

Her eyes blow wide open with hope. Her hands are balled into a fist with evident shaking from elation. "You do?! You really do?!"

“Do you want proof of it?” he asks coolly as he possibly can.

She nods like a little child that is about to be handed a candy.

He closes a bit of the gap between them, with one hand snaking for support at her back, and the other raising her chin to meet his lips.

If she’s good with swooning him with words, then he may as well do the same. "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back."

[productsreviewings]

It seems superheroes aren't the one franchises audiences are on the lookout for. Knives Out, Rian Johnson's 2019 movie a couple of quick-witted detective who solves the homicide of a well-known thriller author, grossed over $300 million and helped enhance de facto lead Ana de Armas' profession to new heights (and likewise managed to characteristic a stellar post-Avengers: Endgame efficiency from Chris Evans). The standout performer, although, needed to be Daniel Craig, who performed the masterful detective (written about in The New Yorker, as characters performed by Toni Collette and Jamie Lee Curtis each observe) Benoit Blanc. Craig places on an entertaining Southern accent and sashays round as if he is a personality from a traditional whodunit.Naturally, the success of Knives Out meant there would undoubtedly be a sequel. After its preliminary theatrical run, Knives Out landed on Netflix on December 23. Benoit Blanc will reappear, this time making his method to a personal island owned by a billionaire performed by Edward Norton to resolve a homicide. The movie as soon as once more boasts a formidable solid with Craig and Norton joined by Dave Bautista, Janelle Monae, Kate Hudson, Kathryn Hahn, and lots of, many extra. It would be laborious for a movie like that to fail, particularly contemplating audiences already know what to anticipate: a great homicide, and a good higher story of how a wise detective solved it.So so long as Johnson and Craig need to make extra Knives Out movies, Benoit Blanc will proceed on. Audiences can sit up for extra conniving wealthy folks plotting one another's downfall, and an interesting standalone story set in a formidable location. And after the Glass Onion ending, we're fairly prepared for an additional thriller. This is what we learn about Knives Out 3, together with a launch date, solid, and trailer.NetflixWill There Be a Knives Out 3? Sure. Again in 2021, Netflix acquired the rights to each Knives Out 2 and 3. In an interview with Deadline, Johnson confirmed he is already been enthusiastic about the third movie, and as a consequence of a $400 million Netflix deal and constructive early reception of Glass Onion, there's an virtually 100% probability there will be one other film."I believe all people assumed I’d have a pair different random concepts—unrelated tasks—that I’ve been kicking round," Johnson informed the outlet. "However, actually, over the previous couple of months, essentially the most thrilling artistic factor to me proper now could be that third film. And so, I believe I’m going to hop proper into it."When Is Knives Out 3 Coming Out?There is not any set launch date for Knives Out 3, however contemplating Johnson has an total Netflix deal, there's much less concern in regards to the streaming service giving him the inexperienced gentle. The primary movie got here out in fall 2019, and the second is popping out in winter 2023, however that is additionally with that little Covid-19 factor occurring in between. It could be affordable to anticipate that Knives Out 3 may come out by 2025 on the newest—however probably even sooner. Who Will Be within the Knives Out 3 Forged?Christopher Jue//Getty PhotosThere is not any phrase but on who could possibly be solid within the subsequent Knives Out film, but it surely's doubtless the solid will likely be utterly totally different from the primary two movies consistent with the standalone thriller format. Very similar to a traditional whodunit, the one recurring character will likely be Benoit Blanc.However that makes room for some thrilling hypothesis. Nearly anybody may star within the subsequent movie and it is affordable to imagine large names will likely be hooked up. We would not be against, say, a pair Rian Johnson reunions. He directed "Ozymandias," essentially the most well-known episode of Breaking Unhealthy, so why not get Bryan Cranston or Aaron Paul concerned? You already know who else was in Breaking Unhealthy? Jesse Plemons.

Anybody in opposition to that? Johnson additionally labored with some main names in Star Wars: The Final Jedi, together with Mark Hamill, Adam Driver, John Boyega, Daisy Ridley, Kelly Marie Tran, Benicio del Toro, Laura Dern, and Oscar Isaac. We'd welcome any of them in a Knives Out movie with open arms. However we're not restricted to Rian Johnson reunions. Who says we won't have Henry Cavill? The Rock? Harrison Ford? Sigourney Weaver? Identify a well-known particular person, and so they could possibly be in it. Even higher in the event that they're the killer. Knives Out is an ensemble present that retains on giving.Milan Polk is an Editorial Assistant for Males's Well being who makes a speciality of leisure and life-style reporting, and has labored for New York Journal's Vulture and Chicago Tribune. #Benoit #Blanc #Return #Whodunit #Enjoyable #Knives

[tifacatsblog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Temari Characters: Nara Shikamaru, Temari (Naruto), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Emotional Whump, Whumptober 2021, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Suna and Konoha at war, you know the rest, Major character death - Freeform, but in a soft way, offscreen major character death Summary:

Two kilometers or so east of the camp lay a border. Just outside of the line of trees that define the changing of climate. A long line of barbed wire on sand, more of a formality than a defense; any genin could easily jump over them. But Suna’s real defense lay on the desert, waiting for fresh meat who can’t differentiate dunes from seal traps. 

This border was a warning, a finish and a start line simultaneously.

Glancing above the barbed wire, Temari found what she came here for.

What kind of soldier hates war?

Temari is a shinobi, in her job description there’s lying, kidnapping, maiming, torturing, spying, fighting, and even killing.

Well, perhaps mainly killing.

Point still stands; she is a shinobi and her job is not the kind of job you can be at peace about. Every training is a war against death, as you will be dead if you’re not good at what you do. Every killing is a war against morality, should you hesitate even for a second you risk yourself losing the courage to do it. Every mission she takes, every movement she makes, every breath she takes as a shinobi is a form of war, one way or another.

Her objective in said wars was, mostly, to survive.

(To survive a childhood without friends, to survive an assassin sent to kill her in the night of her tenth birthday, to survive an enemy nin’s kunai aimed at her throat, to survive the threat of being killed accidentally by her little bro-)

This war is no different.

Suna, after that disastrous chunin exam’s failed invasion had begun to make amends with Konoha. It was a process that Temari herself pioneered and supervised, young as she was, to make sure that none of that shit with the Fourth Kazekage and Orochimaru ever happened again, a notion that her brothers (and surprisingly a good chunk of Suna’s forces) agreed to. Suna went on rescue and aid missions assigned by the Fifth Hokage, built a better trade with Konoha, and signed a new peace and alliance treaty with said village.

All of which was done by either Temari’s or her sibling’s hand.

And all of which was for naught.

It started with the debate on who should be the next Kazekage. As Suna’s governance is less of Konoha’s meritocracy and more straight up a hereditary monarchy, the candidates were three teenagers with anger issues and too many killing counts to be comfortably discussed over meal, even for shinobi. Temari was the oldest, with a sharp strategic mind and more diplomacy experience on her hand. Kankurou has more solo mission experience on his hand, and let's face it, the one who actually has a better reputation (compared with The Cruelest Kunoichi and The Shuukaku Monster). Gaara of course, is the powerhouse and the true ‘weapon’ of Sunagakure, and If Temari was allowed to voice her assessment, a stubborn idiot who’s trying to change ways and is now perhaps, more human than Temari ever was. He’s trying to be kind, to be hopeful, to be soft in a way they never know how.

After all the shit Suna went through because Rasa decided to put being shinobi above being human, being Kazekage over being a father, Temari thinks it should be clear who should be the next Kazekage.

Apparently it wasn’t clear for some people.

Civil war broke out, a thing that every hidden village dread, as shown from Konoha’s Madara Uchiha to the situation in Kiri right now. Many things could be the spark that lead to a civil war; a disagreement, a void of power, and especially a disagreement on who should fill the void of power. There were two factions, the one who supported Gaara as Kazekage, and the one who wanted their head on the stake.

Well, perhaps that’s oversimplifying, they deemed The Kazekage clan as it is now has failed to protect Suna and they are demanding power to the people so that Suna may see a brighter future.

…and their head on the stake.

…and another military family on the Kazekage seat.

…said family is known to be power hungry in elite circles.

(Hungry for power in a way that could very well end their world, as is common for shinobi, such greed for power that made them, who came from a family that choose to seal a demon in a child with unstable seal for power, genuinely concerned)

So, war for her and her family’s survival, no big deal right? Right, no big deal. They’ve won, Gaara is on his seat on the Kazekage tower. Temari and Kankurou are his advisor slash right hand slash ambassador slash anything he needed them to be.

Except that when there’s rotten flesh there’s a pack of vultures, ready to feast.

Power over trust, land over alliance, money over peace.

Konoha has a new Daimyo, and this one is ambitious.

Thus the fourth shinobi war broke out.

This time, Suna is the prize.

(Turns out, Gaara needed them to be war generals.

When one shark bite, the blood will draw the other in.

Iwagakure joined the war a few months ago.

The other will be close behind.)

“How are things on the northern border?” Temari asked, finishing her morning ration and standing from the commander table. The tent they were in was worse to wear, but Temari was glad she could sleep in the command tent alone, and not having to share her space with five other jounin.

“Earth’s forces are admirable, but our defense still holds strong,” Her second in command, a kunoichi in her early thirties named Chisaki, said, “Kankurou-sama’s report arrived yesterday, after you went to bed. It states that we should not worry about any breaches on his side of the border,” she finished.

“And?”

“…And I quote ‘Worry about your own damn job Temari, you’re not my mom.’”

That earned a smirk from her, “Son of a bitch,” she glanced at the other shinobi, “And for the record I was calling my father a bitch, not my mom.”

Chisaki, in a show of true professionalism, doesn’t even bat an eye on Temari’s blatant disrespect of the late Kazekage.

(Or maybe, she was too used to Temari’s rant of how The Fourth was a loser who could totally do better and he was a jerk, and he was such a controlling, egoistical piece of sh-)

Temari goes out of the tent, the sun has yet to rise, everything is still and dark.

Chisaki doesn’t follow.

Temari is so glad her second in command doesn’t ask questions and trusts her so completely.

In an hour she has to make morning rounds, she has to make sure their defense is at their best, the soldiers (Are we soldiers? We weren’t supposed to be soldiers. Were we?) fed and ready, their weapons polished and deadly.

In an hour she has to be a general of war again, but for now-

Two kilometers or so east of the camp lay a border. Just outside of the line of trees that define the changing of climate. A long line of barbed wire on sand, more of a formality than a defense; any genin could easily jump over them. But Suna’s real defense lay on the desert, waiting for fresh meat who can’t differentiate dunes from seal traps. 

This border was a warning, a finish and a start line simultaneously.

Glancing above the barbed wire, Temari found what she came here for.

Dark eyes watching her sharply from the top of a branch. Green flak jacket, black shirt and trouser, staple of Konoha's basic gear. Long hair tied in a ponytail.

She used to make fun of that ponytail.

(She used to card her hand through it, when he's agreeable and not shy enough to try to evade. She used to say that she uses his hair as training exercises for braiding, lest a mission requires a kunoichi to be able to braid a really troublesome and lazy chunin's hair. She used to marvel at how soft it was, and how such an act filled her with a warm, bubbly feeling.)

She used to nag him to wear proper attire,

("You don't even look like a chunin, and what's this mesh shirt going to protect? Not you, that's the answer." 

"Says the woman who wears kimonos to battle."

"Excuse you-")

She used to-

They used to.

(There was a they once upon a time. 

Temari used to think that given time they could be something more. Maybe he would finally find the courage to ask her for dinner instead of working so ineffectively she was forced to pull an all nighter with him to meet deadlines, maybe she will finally snap and grab his hand to lead him instead of his shirt and then keep holding it even if it would be inconvenient, maybe on one of their diplomatic meeting they will finally meet each other's eyes instead of stealing glances-

Maybe given enough time, she could lov-)

They used to banter, snipping remarks over snarky ones, having fun with harmless verbal battles.

Now they mostly stand in silence, five hundreds meters apart, barely able to discern the other in such dim light.

Neither of them is going to talk, neither of them is going to even move or make some kind of microexpression. One knows the other too well. Being any other than stone might as well be a traitorous act for their own homeland; it would mean divulging information to the enemy.

Neither of them is going to stop coming here either.

This is a breach in their defense, both Konoha and Suna can make use of this and strike the other.

(Neither of them is going to say anything either.)

These days Temari usually fills their dialogue in her head. Like an actress reading from a script, practicing in front of the mirror. Desperately trying to imagine the other actor's voice so that her own act might seem real.

I will kill you, Temari, brash as ever, would say.

Wow, not even a hello? He would answer, snarky.

I know your weakness, She would insist,  I have fought you in the chunin exam once, I have fought you in sparring sessions countless times. I know your strength, your strategy, I know how you think, I know you and your weakness.

It would be Illogical for anyone else but me to kill you.

Counterpoint, he would say, as you have fought me, I have fought you. Everything you have said might be true but so does the other way around; I know you too.

Do you? She would ask, her lips would be set in a line and her eyebrow would be lifted, If you truly know me then you know why I am willing and capable of killing you.

He would be quiet for a minute, and then; I can assure you I can kill you too.

Perhaps, She would cast her gaze away, pretending to mulling it over, and then she would shift her gaze, sharp as a cheetah zoning on a gazelle in the savanna, and she would ask, But would you?

And, as said question would trigger the same reaction he has when confronted with his emotions ever, he would stay silent. And she would fill in for him; No, you wouldn't.

How would you know, I haven't exactly tried. He would half-heartedly rebuke.

And, because this is a totally hypothetical situation in which she is allowed to do anything, she would walk towards said barbed wire, closing in on the no man's land, and she would say, There, you didn't kill me.

A single person, not even crossing the border line is not a threat. He would say, I am not obligated to kill you.

Do not invalidate my strength just to cover your own weakness! She would snarl, she would grab the wires out of emotions and her hands would bleed. You know damn well I can level this forest in a second if I wanted to. I could kill you and all of your friends and your parents and your teacher and everyone else behind this blasted wire if needed. I could, I would, I will. 

There's a reason I'm named The Cruelest Kunoichi. You haven't met her yet.

He would stay silent throughout her rant, and even after that. She would continue, out of spite.

Konoha's propaganda, she would spat, has always been reliant on a bond to the people inside of the village. Will of fire, empathy, solidarity, whatever you want to say.

I'll tell you why you wouldn't kill me. She would whisper with a concealed rage.

Because I am your weakness.

And then she would turn around and leave him to stand there alone, stewing on her words.

Except of course that didn't happen.

In reality it was forty five minutes of silence with both of them just standing there, watching each other. Forty five minutes of not talking and filling the silence with an imaginary fight in her head. Forty five minutes of the sun slowly rising up and warming everything around them except themselves. 

(How could anything warm the heart of a killer? Especially if you're the one supposed to kill the one you lo-)

Forty five minutes before Shikamaru's face suddenly crumpled in grief and he all but ran away from his spot, to the darkness and safety of the forest.

Forty five and one minute later realization and dread filled Temari's chest.

(One knows the other too well. Being any other than stone might as well be a traitorous act for their own homeland; it would mean divulging information to the enemy-)

Konoha will attack soon.

(I could, I would, I will. )

.

“What kind of soldier hates war Shikamaru?” She would ask, four to five minutes from blacking out from blood loss, or perhaps something more permanent; severed femoral artery and ruptured spleen would do that. Fair, he has always said that she needs to cover her left side.

“The good kind.” He would answer, crying.

What a crybaby.