#works hell and i still only have a sketch of my other projects done

[alabasterwasps]

here’s a silly (shitty) little gif for some enjoyment

[bullet-prooflove]

Rigs: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hunterthecharmer @heylookwhoitis

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic

Tyler lies on his back in a field in the middle of nowhere, there’s a picnic blanket spread out underneath him as he stares up at the sky watching the clouds drift overhead. He comes out here when he wants to take a breather, when he wants to get away from the cameras, the attention, his crew. He’s mad at every single one of them right now because they all knew that Boone was going to call you, in fact they encouraged it.

“We needed a mechanic.” Dani had told him after he’d sent you away. “You know she’s the best around, the work she did back then, we ain’t never had anything like it since.”

Yea, he knows that all too well. He’s been paying out the nose for his repairs ever since you left, jerry rigging shit together because none of them know how to weld the way you do.

He remembers the first day the two of you met inside that pokey little garage Lawton, he’d come to you with a sketch for his truck because every other mechanic this side of Oklahoma had told him he was absolutely crazy.

“It’s doable.” You’d told him as you reviewed the drawing he’d made. “But it’s going to cost.”

He’d used the last of his savings from his work at the rodeo to pay you to outfit his rig and when it was done, it was far better than he ever could have imagined.

“All that’s left is to test it out.” You’d said as your hand smoothed over the glossy paintwork.

“You actually wanna come along for that ride?” He’d asked you half serious.

Imagine his surprise when you had said yes.

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of wrangler in you after all.” He’d remarked as you’d climbed into the passenger seat beside him.

You’d become the go to girl for rigs like his after that. Any storm chasers that needed something special or a fix up, you were the one to go to. You still are even after the injury, you may have given up the chasing but making sure that the people that were still doing it stay safe is your top priority.

That’s the worst part he thinks is that you still have love for the community, hell you still probably have love for him but it can’t work between the two of you because you broke the cardinal rule, you did the one thing you promised you wouldn’t.

You asked him to stop.

“You know I can’t.” He’d told you, his thumb running along the line of your jaw, over the stitches that held your skin together.

“And you know I can’t keep doing this.” You’d responded before you’d packed your things and returned to that garage in Lawton.

He stays away after that, gets his repairs elsewhere. He’d hoped that you’d become a distant memory but the truth is you’re never far from his thoughts, it’s why he hasn’t looked at another woman in years.

The problem is Boone and the others are right, they do need you. If they want Kate’s project to be successful, to prove to the government that this is something they should be rolling out across the country then they need it to be foolproof and that means getting a professional mechanic onboard to make sure the rigs are up to standard to take on what’s to come. It’s the only way to make sure his crew stays safe and you’re the only one that can do that.

“Fuck.” He says as he stares up at the sky because despite what he said a few hours ago he does need you.

Truthfully he always has.

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[staticvn]

the foxes : random headcanons (because i need to let it all out somewhere)

• Renee & Matt are both huge fans of atla and the pjo series. Dan likes it as well but not as much as they do. They also tried to convince Allison to watch it with them and despite saying it’s “not her thing” she really likes it.

• Renee keeps her own garden. Mostly plants and flowers though. She tries for some veggies as well but they never grow right

• At some point, Andrew would stop smoking completely. The withdrawals are crazy and he’s cranky as hell through the whole thing but yeah.

• Renee would definitely love visiting churches and cathedrals in different countries. Not only cuz she’s religious but also because she loves the architecture and art a lot.

• also also Renee would keep the coolest looking patterned stuff. Fox shaped & cat paw carved ceramic mugs, knitted sweaters with a lot of patchworks and so on.

• Renee taught Neil ASL. For no particular reason just that it’s a good thing to know. After that she also tried teaching some of the other foxes but mostly just the basics.

• Kind of surprise to everyone, Aaron would be really good at chess. Neil and Matt on the other hand… very much not. He sometimes has chess matches with Kevin but Kev always loses which genuinely drives him mad.

• Aaron knows latin- not just the medical terms that med students have to know but like the language. So you bet that whenever someone gets him angry he starts to yap at them in latin just to make a point of some sort.

• Andrew would like those old/retro gameboys

• Andrew always beats everyone in mario kart with Nicky often being either close second or complete last - no in between.

• Nicky is the #1 pancake maker. He was kind of awful at it at first but after many many tries he perfected it for the twins

• Kev is also the #1 cook in healthy but completely flavourless prison-looking meals (though it is not his fault. i blame the nest.)

• if the foxes would ever have escape room night best believe Neil would be the first to figure it out and in record time as well.

• Kevin is a mosquito magnet and won’t stop complaining about it…like ever. (had to google synonym for bitching btw)

• to fight off the “eboy Andrew” allegations im fighting back with “absolute loser Andrew” where he wears too big sweaters, reading glasses, has crooked teeth, and searches through different cryptid or internet mysteries- related sites for too long (…projecting but still)

• Neil hates coffee. his favorite tea is peppermint or earl grey.

• the monsters watch cartoons in the morning if they don’t have classes i said what i said

• Neil definitely got into photography (or sketching or both) at some point. there is just something so symbolic about that i just can’t wire up my brain rn to figure out why.

• Kevin listens to podcasts instead of music while working out because he is simply that type. sigh

ok im done

[zarla-s]

Do you get anxious whenever you start drawing comic pages? Is that connected to ending of Handplates? It's like you're trying to find any random activity to avoid drawing comics. And your usual sketches get less and less dialogue. I'm asking because I'm worried and I don't know what's happening. D:

Hmm... I haven't really thought of things in these terms? I was like "eh that can't be right" but then I did a quick look back and it does look like I've been doing solo shots or single/two panel comics for a while, haha. I've just got a lot of small ideas or images I wanted to get out recently. And I've been writing a lot of fic! Which I haven't done in a while, which is nice. Writing a fic (particularly lengthy ones, like the Hell jailbreak or the hanahaki one) is a lot more time consuming than people might think. I started the hanahaki one in early December and only just posted it a few days ago...

I was doing Handplates for such a long time, like seven+ years and all, that I'm assuming the vast majority of you out there never really knew me when I wasn't doing it. The thing is that Handplates is a massive outlier - I never did any project of that scale before, or one that updated that consistently or took that much constant effort. Never! Most of the time before when I'd start a big project I'd get distracted and never finish it, or there'd be huge hiatuses between updates (Vargas). It was super weird to have such a big project I so consistently updated and worked on. It's not common for me! I'm amazed looking back on it all that I was so committed to it when so many other ones fell flat.

Handplates took up a LOT of my time, so with it over I've been doing some other things I wouldn't have had much time for before. Playing some games, taking screencaps, writing fic, web design, little small experiments like all my pixel stuff. Just trying out different things! I don't think I'd say I was anxious about doing a comic page... it's more so that I'm just tired, I think. I was doing these huge elaborate pages that'd take days to finish for so long - now that I don't have to do it anymore, my brain just wants to relax, haha.

The reason for the slow updates on Defrag is really that I keep getting stuck lol. It's not really focused like Handplates and I still don't really know how it'll end. I keep getting stuck on what should happen next, so I keep putting it off. It's just me being a lazy writer rather than having anxiety about doing a page. |D

At least, I think that's what it is...

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 25

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 25: comfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another big storm came from the ocean. I was grateful that construction and other projects were paused because it gave me the time to stress sketch. Reading helped but sketching really seemed to help loosen any built up stress I had stored in my neck and shoulders.

And stressed I very much was.

It was mid summer and four more surface Overlords had gone missing. Territories were toppling and being combined into a sort of Clan that Blackwater was running. Yet he still remained a ghost, completely untouchable. He was building an empire. And I knew he was going to come for us eventually.

Knowing Blackwater and how thorough and evasive he has been, I knew he would build up his power and empire until he was strong enough to come challenge Alastor. Or, he would be slick about it and try to catch Alastor off guard like he had done with Reagan and I in that hidden factory.

Alastor insisted we were fine but I didn't believe him. Blackwater was smart and obviously very good with technology. He created an entire room that could prevent people from using their magic yet he could wield it freely as a Human. What else could he figure out? He was creating the very thing Overlords had been working so hard to prevent: a collective power of Humans.

Hazbin Haven wasn't anywhere near the power of such a possible empire. We had Demons and Slight Humans but they were here to escape the persecution, to escape the fighting. Blackwater wasn't going to stop at just one nation or body of land. He was going to make sure the entire world was rid of Demon-kind. We might be last on his list but he was moving fast.

I knew I was bothering Alastor with my frequent concerns and nightmares but they were starting to become real.

Lucifer had mentioned during some of my training sessions that I might have future visions. I had already had a couple but I didn't think anything of it. Nowadays, I was starting to have small little scenarios during a nap or at the tail end of a dream that would come true a few days later. I couldn't change them or even predict them before they happened. I could only recognize when the vision came true.

I asked Alastor to speak with Lucifer and set up a more frequent time to meet with the King of Hell so he could teach me more about Angelic magic. Alastor wasn't happy about it but he didn't say no.

Progress.

I heard him calling for me. I was sitting on the window seat in the library sketching the corner of the room. I was practicing quick, rough sketching before going in for finer details. I was trying to finish the quick sketch before answering. I didn't want to break my concentration, plus he would see me once he came down the stairs.

But he kept calling. It was a call, then a question, then sweet, then just annoyed that I was ignoring him. I knew he could see me from where he walked into the living room. Why was he still calling me? Couldn't he tell I was focused?

I shifted more comfortably, back haunched over the sketch pad, and continued to focus on the corner of the room. He tried again, more forcibly, and I responded with a terse, "What Al?"

I was finishing the edge of the rug in the corner when I noticed the prolonged silence. He had stopped calling my name and was just standing there, staring at me. That's when it finally registered in my head what I had just said.

I stopped sketching. I slowly straightened my back, eyes anxiously moving up his long legs to meet his eyes. I couldn't tell what his smile meant. Was it surprise? Was it annoyance? He blinked twice before coming back to reality. He stepped to the side to reveal Reagan waiting in the living room. I had forgotten she was coming up to chat with me.

"Sorry, I was just so focused," I laughed lightly. I closed the pad and left it on the seat, waltzing over to  Reagan and letting my tail drag lightly across his boot. I tried to briefly touch his mind but I couldn't quite catch what he was feeling. Why had I said his name like that? I had heard Husker use that nickname but I had never once used it.

Reagan and I took a walk along the shore. We couldn't go into towns anymore since Blackwater's rise to power. Both of us were too nervous after last time when we had left the haven. So we agreed to walk along the beach instead.

The rain was still present but the wind had died down for the early evening. I kept the rain from hitting us like Alastor had done so many times to the two of us. She talked to me about helping Vivian with the children and all the fun and stupid things that happen in the new school building.

We didn't walk for very long. The rain had made it cold and our feet were getting pale from walking on the cold beach. I walked her back to the haven where Lucas 'happened' to be walking along the edges. A smile grew on my face as I watched the two of them talk and walk down the street. I realized then just how much the haven had grown.

How much I had grown.

I found Alastor sitting by the fireplace. The dark outside made the living room feel more safe and warm. His eyes slowly opened to look at me, smile showing only a few of his upper teeth. "How was the walk?" he asked, holding his hand out for me to take.

I crossed the room, practically a magnet to his hand, and wrapped my claws around his. The last edges of cold disappeared as his presence and magic blended with mine. In one swift movement, he pulled me down and lifted my leg to have me sitting sideways on his lap, legs folded over his knees. His claw came up my back to keep me from falling over the armchair and the other kept my thigh securely on his leg.

"Relax your muscles, darling." He planted a few kisses on the side of my neck. It had taken a surprising amount of effort to get my shoulders, and especially my legs, to lower and loosen up. Now I was starting to feel way too warm.

He tilted his head up and waited, waited for me to lean down and kiss him. The action felt strange this time as I leaned my head down. His hand on my thigh moved a little further while the other one on my back pressed me closer.

I wrapped one arm around the back of his neck and rested a hand perfectly on the curve of his shoulder. A moment later he broke the kiss and found my eyes with his gentle, beady red ones.

"Say, my darling," his smile turned into a smirk, "what compelled you to say my name in such a way earlier?" My eyes widened and my face grew even more red. I tried to get off but he fastened his grip with a laugh, "Not so fast, my dear. I'm only curious."

"It just kinda came out," I replied, refusing to look in his direction. "I've heard Husker call you that. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"Come now, my darling." He placed a kiss on the exposed part of my shoulder. "I didn't say that you shouldn't. I had only asked why."

"Well...that's why." I still wouldn't look at him. My face was too hot and I knew he would make a comment about it. So he wasn't angry about the nickname?

"Darling~" He leaned his face close to my neck so his breath would brush against my skin. He then slowly ran his tongue up my neck muscle. I bit my lip.

He placed small, light kisses along it next. When I still wouldn't look at him, he ran his sharp teeth gently across my skin. I pushed him back in the chair by a splayed hand on his chest. A spark of anger crossed his features before the smugness took over.

"I do believe we agreed that I would have your attention in the evenings." His tentacle came up to pull on the bend of my elbow so we closed the distance. "So do hold up your end of the deal." His hand on my back pressed a little more.

"Of course, Al," I said right before I kissed him. His surprise lasted only a millisecond. He laughed into the kiss then let out a content sigh, breath brushing on my upper lip. The sensation sent goosebumps up my arms and made a heavy burning build in my chest. I pressed harder into the kiss.

I was higher than him, only slightly, but it was something different.

He gently pulled my one hand off his shoulder and led it to his hair. I hummed a laugh into the kiss as I threaded my fingers through his hair. I slowly moved up to his ear and gave just enough pressure up the entirety of it.

His claws held on to me tighter, deepening the kiss and running his tongue along my teeth. I moved my hand to the back of his head and pressed like he was doing to my back. Occasionally I used my claws gently enough and it earned a full body shudder from him each time.

His hands moved closer to each other, moving down my back and further up my thigh. His claws found the edge of my shirt and slipped underneath to touch my skin.

Scenes flashed in my eyes and I jerked away. My hands shoved his away and kept them locked in a deadly grip. I had pushed him out of my mind and kept him there.

His smile looked pained. "I overstepped again."

"I just...I'm not...we didn't..."

His hands were still locked in my grip but his eyes were holding me firmly in place. "Easy darling. Think on it before you attempt to explain it."

He glanced to his hands. I gradually unstuck each claw until I had let go of him completely. I stood up, facing burning from embarrassment, and avoided looking in his general direction. I wanted to curl up in a dark cave and never come back.

"Darling."

I hadn't realized how close he had gotten. He held out his hand from behind, towering from behind but not in his usual demeaning way. It felt like was trying to hug me from a distance.

It took me a moment longer before I placed my hand on his, back still to him, and let him press a soft kiss to the top of my head near my horns. My claws looked so small in his large palm, red claws covering mine. I lowered my shields to him only slightly, allowing him to press close but not yet enter.

"Let us begin our routine," he offered. I'm not sure what it was about our nightly routine that made me feel more at ease and more comfortable. I changed in my room and sat on the edge of his bed with my novel. His eyes remained focused on his abstract, eyes looking through his round glasses and ear flapping occasionally at slight noises.

I tried to read but I couldn't focus. My mind kept going back to him, kept forcing me to look over for any signs of anger.

Yet there wasn't.

I lowered my shields but didn't pull him in or try to touch his own. I wanted to know what he was feeling but I didn't dare try to go anywhere near him. I didn't want to risk upsetting him somehow.

I decided to call it a night. I turned away from him and left the book on the table. He noticed my back facing him and asked, "Done for the night?"

"Yeah."

He took off his glasses, the sound of them bending and being placed on the table reaching my ears easily, and snuffed the fire out. I listened intently to the sound of him shifting down and eventually going still, going silent.

I stared into the darkness, heart pounding painfully loud in my ears and hands gripping the sheet tightly. I didn't like having my back to him but I was too scared to turn over.

"Darling," he called, making me jump.

"Yes?"

"Why are you still frightened?"

"I'm not." I turned my head a little despite the pitch blackness of the room.

"I can feel it."

Shit. I drew my magic back not realizing that it had subconsciously melded with him.

"S-sorry."

"It is not something to apologize for. I was only asking the reason for it."

I went quiet. He didn't sound upset and he hadn't feel upset when our magic had touched. There was definitely something close to impatience but he always felt that way.

"I-I'm sure you wanted to do more but I made us stop," I finally answered.

There was a long moment of silence. I wanted to touch our magic to see what he was thinking. Was he looking at me or just staring into the darkness?

His voice broke the silence again. "Are you afraid I am angry with you?"

"Aren't you?" I turned over more so I could just see his dark outline. My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness.

"No, my dear. I am quite the opposite. I am worried."

"Why?" I turned over to face him. I could sense his magic as he made it light enough for me to see his eyes. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards me.

"I do not wish to cause such fear in you. I wish for you to feel safe in my presence."

"I do feel safe around you. It's just..." I trailed off, avoiding his gaze again.

He pulled his hand out from under the covers and left it face up on the mattress in between us. I moved closer and laid my hand in his, watching his claws carefully and slowly enclose on mine. I still didn't know why I liked looking at our claws like that.

"Do you fear I will force myself onto you?" he asked.

I pressed my cheek into the pillow and casted my eyes to my shoulder until the edges went dark from the strain. I shouldn't be shocked by his bluntness. That was his style, after all.

"I'm not sure," I admitted slowly, tightening my grip on his hand, "I'm...I...get really nervous. That's all."

"My dear." He rolled on his side and gently brushed his fingers along my cheek with his other hand now that we were close enough. "Your definition of fear and nervous are sorely misguided."

"They're pretty much the same." I casted a gentle glared up at him. It instantly fell when our eyes met.

"It is an unexplainable fear when I touch you in that way, yes?" he prompted.

"Yes."

"Then I am telling you it is not. You are experiencing flash backs to what that wretched man did to you." My eyes stayed glued to his, somehow unable to look away this time. "At first I had thought it was because you still feared me in such a way. However, the memories that present themselves when this happens is from your time in the rings."

"Oh." I tore my eyes from his to look down at our claws. I had been trying to keep that memory pushed out of my mind. I had blocked it out after it had happened but had to face it when unraveling my curse. He had seen it. He had killed the man, too. It wasn't as if I was afraid this man would find me and do it again. Even if he did, surely Alastor wouldn't let that happen again. So why was I still scared?

"I will not force myself on you in such a way." He laid his large palm on my cheek as lightly and gently as he could, his thumb rubbing back and forth across my skin. "I have taken the lead in everything. This time, I will allow for you to take the lead."

I met his eyes and watched his smile turn genuine. I couldn't stop the smile that mimicked his, watching it grow as I did so. The weight on my cheek grew heavier as I moved my fingers to interlock with his claws. My tail came up to wrap around his ankle. A radio came on to play a soft, smooth tune. I laughed lightly at the action, knowing he was trying to find a way to make me feel more at ease.

I moved closer until my cheek was against his chest. I sucked in a deep breath of his smokey, cedar wood scent. I could feel the ridges of his chest under the black long sleeve without his usual layer of clothes. 

His arms wrapped firmly, securely, around my shoulder and hooked one of his legs with mine. He placed a gentle kiss on my hair before taking a deep breath of my own scent. I let our magic blend together. I could read his emotions, feelings, and thoughts. He was worried but seemed happy, too.

"Why are you sad?" Worry suddenly took over as he tried to pull away to see my face. I kept my arms tightly around him and face pressed into his chest. I didn't want him to see me crying.

"It's relief."

He wasn't sure what to do at that, still stiff and trying to see my face.

Just hug me back. I sent through our thoughts. The worry stepped away as he encased me back in his safe hug. The cold had disappeared and the overwhelming heat had abated, leaving me in the perfect temperature. I took another deep breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Hope you guys liked this comfort chapter. @jgabriel1920 and @wendigonamecaller gave me the idea.

Thank you to all of you for your support and kindness! I honestly wasn't expecting it <3

Hopefully I'll be back to daily posts by next week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

[sibillascribbles08]

Okay ramble that will probably not get anywhere but I will put it here anyway because I saw yet another post about people struggling to get any writing done. And someone in the comments made a good point. You write/draw so much more as a kid because you're less practiced and ergo less worried about the imperfections that may arise from just gunning it.

And this is true! And this is why I want to tell you if you are struggling to write much, learn to write like a kid again.

You know how with a lot of art you see processes and it always starts with really shitty thumbnails that have silly faces or just blobs of color? Then you have an actual sketch (during which the artist likely moves a lot of shit around on a digital canvas) and then possibly the inking phase or just painting which is more blobs that slowly get sharper and sharper the more the images is rendered.

Yeah uh, do that with writing. Going under the cut because long

Writing as a process is something that is unique to an individual, just like there's 800 ways to slap paint on a canvas. If you look at guide books for writing and none of it is sticking it's not cause you're a failure that technique is just not gelling for you.

And as such I can only speak from MY experience with it but like, here's how I generally stay on top of projects

A) Sketch phase! It's outline time baby! "Ughh but outlines suck" listen I know school made the outline phase of an essay the worst fucking thing ever but hear me out on this. Sure some people CAN write by the seat of their pants but in terms of long projects this does not work out for me. I'm inevitably gonna hit a point where idk where to go from there and it's so hard to map all that out in long form

Listen, outlines are not there to be formal. They're not even there to be fancy. This is time to get down the bare bones and if you have to make it only a paragraph long and then extend that paragraph into multiple then DO it.

Like hell, NONE of my outlines are formatted the same! Some are a paragraph per chapter. Others are just endless bullet points that I split up later. I'm sure in one book due to all the plotlines I'm just going to have a storyline for each character laid out in columns so I can draw lines between them. Whatever works.

And again, do not have to be formal, like here is a legit line in one of my outlines

As for the ruined building… Hypno will cover the damages……….. Right? : )

Go crazy.

B) Now that you have your baselines start working on the actual story. Do you like writing shit out of order? Do it, because with an outline you still have your baselines to reference for any important details you don't wanna forget "Remember [character] is supposed to get a scar in chapter five!" Or write shit in order, and every time you hit a lull consult those baselines to say "oh yeah that's where this chapter was going"

And hey, keep writing it like a kid if that's what it takes to get this crap down. Hit a fight scene you don't wanna write? Slap down some brackets. [Insert a fight scene here where [character] gets his head smashed in so he ends up with this concussion later like a dumbass]. Boom, done, worry about it later.

Worried the dialogue isn't flowing well? Slap open another document or grab some paper and write it out in a play format to keep it moving. Add in all the beats, expressions, and details after.

Not sure if this detail you're putting in is historically accurate? Leave an easy to search symbol in the doc so you can go back to it to research later.

Write the sappy shit. Write with poor grammar (but still like, comprehensible you know what I mean). Slip in adverbs to swap out with strong verbs later. Use a run on sentence.

"But it's gonna sound bad" Who cares who tf cares that's what editing is for ! You go back and refine that shit and clean up sentences and add in all the extra research and pull out the repetitive words.

You gotta quit treating writing like you're supposed to just swing your brush on the canvas and suddenly you have some beautiful scenery. There's layers. There's blobs that turn into refined shapes. There's blending and shading. There's fine lines and thick lines. And sometimes there's mistakes that you have to wait until it dries to go back over it again.

It is a process! Let yourself have FUN with the process.

Okay rant over.

[lazar-codes]

09/11/2023 || Day 107

Personal Chatter (aka I ramble a bit)

Still looking for jobs, and there are still none to be had. Any time I think I haven't applied to a job in a few days, I check and there's literally nothing new. What makes it feel worse is that my current part-time retail job cut hours like crazy, so I'm only coming in once a week instead of the 4 days I'm available. It especially sucks because I do want to spend my day working, but instead I'm at home attempting to program but I'm running out of steam. Not to mention it gets dark so early now; I used to love that as a kid, but as an adult it's just depressing. I think the only thing that's keeping me sane is the fact that I go out to play Magic on Thursdays with people, and I have ASL class on Wednesdays. It's nice to have scheduled weekly events. Hell, I've even been forcing myself to play video games for an hour or 2 every evening to help me get through my games, because even though I like playing video games, it takes a lot of energy for me to start a play session. The joys of being an adult 😂.

But some good news! I have 3 pages left in my sketchbook and I'm so excited to finish it! I've been drawing only in pen in this book for 3 years, so I'm so ready to start a new one and be able to use pencil and actually take my time with drawing instead of just pumping out sketches. People say that sketching in pen will improve your art faster and enables you to draw faster, but I realized I really like getting sucked into a sketch and take my time with it, which I can't really do with pen.

📺 : The Haunting of Bly Manor (rewatch)

🎮 : Mass Effect Andromeda

📚 : Fight, Magic, Items - The History of Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, and the Rise of Japanese RPGs in the West.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Programming

LeetCode

I've been doing 1 problem per weekday for a week now! Yesterday and today I did some medium-level questions on Strings/Arrays which took about 2 hours each. Yesterday I had to look at other peoples' answers, but today I managed to solve it by myself. Am I in the top percentile for time and space complexity? Absolutely not, but I solved it, so I still consider that a win.

Hobby Tracker - Log # 4

I feel like I'm bored out of my mind. I know I said I was gonna focus on doing a full-stack project this month, but I still haven't done the desktop design for the project and I can't bring myself to continue designing. The good news is that I "finished" the mobile design, so I can instead pivot and just create a mobile app instead if I so choose, and I just might...or just do mobile-view first and get all the functionality done, then move onto desktop.

[hummingbird-games]

Dev Diaries

June 15, 2023

Y’all it wasn’t (just) my asthma out to make me see the pearly gates...it was COVID ☠️ it zipped through everyone in my household, and unfortunately me and my mom got the full punch to the face. I was already pro-mask + pro-hygienic practices, but now I’m extra pro-mask complete with a death glare directed at all the uncalled for commentary from strangers.

Enough about being sick LOL, I’m making this because I want to talk about games, also sometimes I cope with humor.

Current WIPs

I know y’all sick of my shit (me too), but as far as I’m concerned, Crushed is coming out this summer!! Really!! I will make it happen even if I have to do a few updates post-release, so help me God. I want to move on to other things and I’m so antsy and pitiful looking at a nearly-done-but-not-quite-yet-project 😭

And I know Sundays and Tuesdays have been super light on content recently but I feel like I don’t have enough to share once or twice a week? (And the stuff I do have is too boring 🙂) I’ve been told to reblog older posts but as you see, the only thing I reblogged was the pinned one lol. (I promise to do better with consistency on HBG Project #3) 

(ALT text isn’t working for me right now, so below is the concept sketch for Ariel!! Obviously you see her on the key art buuuuut I originally planned to share this with y’all anyway!)

Ariel’s role...evolved during the production of this game, for lack of a better word. When I sought out to tell Corey’s story and decided against a kinetic novel experience, there were certain things I wanted to bring attention to (and certain decisions I wanted to leave in the player’s hands). This discussion will get dangerously close to spoiling the content of the endings SOOO we’ll put a pin in it!!

(The below image is a screenshot with Corey, Florence, and Jacob. The text reads “I kinda forgot she was standing there too...”)

This scene was written and coded with the rest of Corey’s friend group being off screen, but eventually I got sprites for Keegan and Oke. But I can’t help reimaging this scene with either of them and it makes me laugh so hard! That being said, I don’t imagine what you see in the demo will change in the final build buuuut who knows??

Randoms

I hinted waaay back when that I planned work on an HSDJY sequel this year. To my dismay, it’s still in the throwing spaghetti noodles at the wall stage. My ambitious ass lowkey hoped I’d have a finished draft for at least one of the routes by end of the year--because self-made deadlines 🎉, but I’m stuck in outline HELL!!!

That being said... it’s okay to work on other things, I am giving myself permission to work on other things, and I’ve been eyeing game jams. But the low stakes one where I won’t jeopardize my sanity. There’s Yuri Jam, which I participated in last year, and then there’s Once Upon A Time VN Jam WHICH LOOKS LIKE SO MUCH FUN???? 

I’ve been doing a lot of reading while recuperating (which probably means nothing because I’m always reading??? Unless I’m in a slump. Or playing viddy games. Dude. Don’t get me started on the pitfalls of being a game developer + bookish content creator. Time management?? We broke up) and the beginnings of an idea are starting to gel! I want to make another short project, and I’m curious if I can come up with something that fits the parameters of both jams. Fingers crossedl!!

Conclusion

I...don’t have anything else to add. 

But go check out the games and projects I’ve reblogged posts about recently!!

Some are fully released, some are out soon, some have Kickstarters, and/or some are WIPs!!!

(Oh, and I guess check out High School Daze: Junior Year to see my humble beginnings)

- Gemini ✌🏾

[poupeesdecirque]

Incomings, WiPs & Plans for February

First of all, my big announcement for this month: I bought the doll base for Howard Link <3 he will be a Charmdoll LaiKa! As the boy got released I instantly knew this will be my Link, I waited almost 7 months the last time so .. I don't think I will see him before summer.

My current incomings look like this now:

No updates on the other bodies or Pallu by now, but that's okay C:

In terms of Work in Progress dolls, those are the dolls that are currently unfinished:

Yup, you see that right. That pile SHRANK down to basically the ones needing bodies and Darjeeling. And Darjeeling is just waiting for a dress to be finished then.

I *could* start on Adam's clothes as I have the pattern and fabrics here but I think i will do that once his body got shipped. For Kanda and Maple I need the bodies for measurements.

Everyone else is finished. Only small adjustments or upgrades left like swapping eyes or shoes. For bby!Allen I am still working on some little additions, like a plushy

Not done cutting parts here, I'm considering doing a scaled up version for personal fun reasons, why not having a huge Timcampy?

Other than that I will most likely spend the next day tidying up my sewing mess and organizing fabrics, buttons and materials, I.. went a bit wild the last days.

Because yeah... you maybe were able to guess it but Lavi is done. Just finished him today, I have yet to put his photos into the queue, I'm trying to sort my mind right now because the last month was a lot. All I can tell right now is that it feels like a huge burden is off my chest, I think the curse is finally broken, he lost his 'tainted' status shortly after I wrote the blog entry about those dolls but now the 'preorders from hell' finally came to an end (I ignore the one going on though I just sit here and wait that's okay) and that's just ... wow. That needs to sink in.

Inbetween I'm working on my assinged page for the redraw project, I want to give it more time than I usually take as this project is special and I draw a lot therefore improve here and there and I don't want to redo the whole thing in like 2 weeks again just because I rushed it x_x'

When Tim is done I will revert to working on Cosplay and will start on my variant of Crown Clown, which is roughly planned for the Dokomi to be finished. I tested some of the materials today and I think this will be a fun project overall as I can be more artistic this time.

While we are at 'artistic' I have an appointment on the 16th to get my 4th tattoo, this will go onto my left arm to continue my sleeve. It's just my sketch, my artist want to mash up several ideas for the border to match more with the vibe of the Manga & the rest of my shoulder.

He was also amazed how well my shoulder tattoo has healed and how great the shading came out. Dunno if I will be able to do much after getting the tattoo but I'm right handed therefore... maybe a bit less on the strenght training then.

Oh, my juggling has advanced a bit, I am now able to catch 3 balls more than once, I'm still not close to juggle 3 balls but tiny steps here.

Doll Photoshootings is the thing getting time cut though, the weather here is awful anyways :/ hope it will get better soon but the days get longer and then I have more time in the evenings.

[stop-pressing-e]

Portrait of a Soldier

The Lost Swan

/Thought I decide to share another one of my stories about Krauser and Dullahan and this is one of the first stories I wrote about before The Lost Swan. So think of it as a look into their little quiet life.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Suggestive talks and Krauser being a prev lol

It started off with a little headshot sketch of Krauser at the corner of the paper on the layout of the building she had drawn out so they could set out a plan to infiltrate. It was a small sketch not bigger from his index finger and yet nothing was missing from his face with those detailing of his scars done with a ballpoint pen. Dullahan didn’t realise it as he hid it with a mug. It was only when she was folding it away was when the sight of the sketch made her remember what she had done, forced to pretend that she didn’t see her own work or that Krauser knew it was her doing.

She won’t know that he liked her little sketch.

The next time Krauser discovered more of her work was when he dropped by her loft via the glass door on her balcony. He was given a keycard by her recently so he could enter her place normally, but oh well, old habits die hard sometimes. He knew Dullahan was currently away on her own missions so he took his chance to recuperate for a couple of days after taking quite a number of mercenary works over the past couple of weeks. Two days should be enough for him. Maybe more if he’s waiting for her return. He does miss her admittedly after all. There were some leftovers that were still good, coffee was full, and his clothes awaiting for his next return were neatly ironed and folded when he opened his wardrobe. 

Her loft was spotless as usual knowing the hitman needed the sense of order in her own haven. 

The easel, however, was not standing there last time he was here.

Krauser knew she does art as a hobby and he has seen her paint from landscapes to still life of the places she has visited. Last time he had seen her paint was at an opera house she attended alone and he watched her paint the singer on stage before returning his focus to his weapons. Normally when she’s not painting she would have it tucked away.

There a fabric was draped over the easel, presumably to hide the canvas underneath. Curiosity got the best of him to take a peek at her new project. The canvas remained blank, save for a memo stuck to it to remind her to buy more paints, and figure out how to get the smile right for the portrait she’s going to be working on. When it comes to her little art studio in the corner of the living room, there would always be an artist’s sketchbook to see what the memo was talking about. And so there it is, the red well loved leather bound sketchbook is found resting on the table. He has seen her sketches before and albeit without her permission, so nothing like the usual peek doesn’t hurt anyone.

Only he didn’t expect to see his own face staring back at him. Krauser’s face was drawn quite stern with a pencil based on the shading on his face and how most of the details were focused on his eyes to the wrinkle of his brow and the furrow on his mouth. Why the hell did she draw him like this? Was that how she saw him when he got annoyed with her or anyone during those times? That woman, unbelievable. However, that wasn’t the only sketch she had drawn of him. In fact, there were a lot more sketches of him. From headshots to full body drawings of him in various poses and with different mediums, she has filled out a variety of him in over five pages. A couple of them were nude drawings of him done with charcoal and watercolours.

The way she had drawn those were not done in a lewd way or to make him look like a god. Dullahan had drawn him as she had seen him whenever he’s naked, normal. The way his back muscles shifted in charcoal as he was drawn sprawled out on his front on the leather couch he lain on, recalling the time she had given him a back massage. The other drawing that was done in watercolour was when he was taking a shower. He looked completely bliss, possibly for the fact that he was taking a hot shower at the time when she walked in and he never saw her admiring his body from the door that was not lustful.

He has to admit, she has done an amazing job drawing him that he couldn’t help but smile a little upon each inspection of his own appearance. It was then he realised what the memo had meant on the smile. The headshots of him had been drawn with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a big obvious kind that gets into everyone’s face and nor was it a faint kind. It was…simply there, smiling back at the person holding the sketchbook. The smile in those sketches were not exactly how he’s smiling right now, but he can clearly see how hard she had worked to get it right from a pencil to a pen in most of her sketches of him based on imagination alone. Krauser rarely smiles and never does even when a day is good. It was always neutral or stern looking with a rarity of smirking to tease the woman.

The sketchbook was placed back where it found and positioned it correctly so when Dullahan returns, she doesn’t know that he took a peek inside of it and see what has been on her mind lately to draw these out. Krauser has seen past headshots of people she has met once to people she knew but to have multiple drawings of a particular person made him feel special about it and that simply has him smiling as he heads upstairs to shower and get ready to sleep in her bed.

The next time he was at her place, Dullahan now Trish Odile was home too as it was one of her days off from both her waitress job and her hitman contracts, allowing her time to relax and recuperate too. Krauser was lounging at the couch with a book from her bookcase in hand and Trish painting by the glass doors. Both of them minding their own business in the comforts of their home. 

From the placement he laid himself across the couch, it was the perfect angle to sneak a peek at Trish in the middle of painting, knowing full well she must be painting a portrait of him based from one of her sketches at her opened sketchbook by her side. Sometimes he would sneak a peek at her finely shaped legs sticking out from the oversize T-shirt she’s wearing that currently belongs to him, also knowing full well that she missed the smell of his scent as he does with her bedsheets. The way her ankles crossed over one another, or how one is crossed over the leg when she leans closer towards the canvas, and sometimes his favourite is when she tucked a leg under her or propped a knee up all while fixing up the shirt, sneaking a glimpse of the rest of her legs and to see if she’s either wearing underwear underneath or those tight yoga shorts.

“You’re staring at me.” Trish called him out on his peeking, never once halted her work and her eye not leaving the canvas to look at him. She wasn’t going to admit that she was peeking at him on her end too. Krauser looked content in his position and the book he chose to read was The Invisible Man. From her angle it was her eyepatch he would see her ‘looking’ back at him, and yet she still knew he was looking at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He said, flicking his gaze back on the words he last stopped at, pretending to skim through the sentences to continue his rouse of reading. “Just curious about what you’re painting this time.” He can hear the creaks of the chair being made as she shifted her position again. “Something for my mission soon.” She started. “I have to act as a painter for a gala my target is going to open and I’ll need enough examples to show them to him to have them on display.”

“Sounds fun.” He knew it was a lie and simply went along with it. “You already have your alias on this mission?” “Of course.” Trish let out a chuckle as she stood up and stretched her body, allowing Krauser to lower the book a bit to catch his shirt riding up to see those legs again. He’s going to have them wrap around his waist very soon on this couch and hear that moan she’s currently making after she has stretched. 

Trish finally looked at him, a small smile forming on her face. “Do you want to attend the gala as my plus one when the time comes?” “Tch, fancy events are not my forte for missions like yours.” He brought the book up to hide his face and soon catches the hitman approaching him from the top of the book, catching sight of the small pout she’s making. “I’ll pass.” 

“You’re no fun, Jackie.” She purred out his nickname he secretly liked as she got closer, and soon she was straddling on his hips, taking the book away so she could have his full attention on her. “It would be nice to see you wearing a suit for once. Maybe one of those fancy military suits you probably had to wear during your army times.”

“What will you be wearing?” He asked her, resting his hands on her hips and rubbing one of his thumbs over the outline of her lower garments. It was definitely the yoga pants. “Matter of fact, what are you wearing underneath?” His free hand decides to sneak under the shirt and tries to tug down the shorts. “I don’t see your nipples poking out. Bra?”

Trish cocked her head to the head, the smile switching to a smirk. “Take it off?”

“That’s an order.” He stopped her from removing his shirt. “Leave it on. Bra off.” Krauser soon smirked when Trish let out a huff while she complied to his orders, snapping off the hooks with the flick of her hand, pulled the straps out from the sleeves, and then pulled out the said bra itself from the opening of the shirt. It was lacy and dark red, one of his favourite colours and one of his favourite sets from hers. Once her shorts were pulled off, Trish planted her hands on his chest while her hips gave the slightest rub against his clothed hips, a soft moan emitted from her lips, and bowing her head down so their faces were quite close to each other.

“Now what, Jackie?”

“You start by calling me ‘Sir’ this time.” He said, grabbing a fistful of her hair in his grasp, pulling her head back to hear that sweet sharp gasp. “And get down on your knees on the floor right now, sweetheart.”

The strong smell of lavender from her shampoo disappeared from his nose, leaving a lingering scent and forcing him to wake up from his deep slumber. Trish was gone from his grasp in the king size bed they shared. Krauser forced himself to sit up from his place, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to see the warm light illuminating the little art studio. He quietly slid out of the bed, approaching the balcony to see the woman preparing her tools and her paints to continue her work at the canvas. From the top, he can’t see the progress of her work from where he stood and due to her angling the canvas to ensure her shadow doesn’t obstruct her painting session. 

He wasn’t sure why of all times, especially in the middle of the night, she chose to continue painting. He had to step back into the darkness when he watched her rush to the kitchen for what he could tell was boiling water to make tea or coffee. It was tea since he doesn’t smell coffee. As much as he wanted to head downstairs and confront her about it, he left it be, returning to the warm sheets and the alluring smell of her body lotion she applied on herself on the comforter to the smell of her lavender shampoo on her pillow.

Dullahan wasn’t lying about having a mission as a painter and he can’t believe he actually joined her as her plus one for the gala they’re attending. Dullahan had to disguise herself with a blonde wig, green contact lens, and cover up her scars as usual. Krauser did not as no one in this building would recognize him. Not even the security guards who simply waved them in and didn't check him for any weapons he might carry, which is his knife hidden inside his jacket. No military suit for him but a simple yet classic black tuxedo Dullahan has managed to convince himself to wear with a black bowtie. As for her, she wore a dark red dress with spaghetti straps and a long silt on her skirt, exposing her right leg. 

The sight of her chest simply revealing for other men to take a quick look at almost had jealousy bubbling at the pit of his stomach while at the same time he admitted that she looked sexy wearing this kind of dress and in the same shade of red like her bra a week ago. To be the matter of fact she’s not wearing a bra at all for her outfit. 

“What colour is your underwear right now?” He whispered in her ear while Dullahan collected two glasses of champagne from a passing server, handing one to Krauser. A teasing grin formed on her face. “Why ask me such a curious question like that, darling?” Her voice was laced with a sweet enduring tone a lover would give to their significant other since they are posing as a married couple. She tugged on his arm with her arm wrapped around him to guide him to one of her paintings people are admiring currently. The first painting was a beautiful beach with the view of the ocean, and if one looked closely at the cliff, there was a little cottage, with a lone woman walking along the path barefoot and her shoes held in her one hand. Part of the body concealed with a parasol. 

Krauser, who is not a fan of the fine arts, was oddly impressed by the colours she used in her painting. It almost gives off a hazy feeling of a dream one might still be having currently. He doesn’t recognise where the beach is and he’s simply assuming it must be her dream for the future. Peace and quiet. 

Dullahan tugged his sleeve to get him to lean down as they head for the next painting and whisper in his ear. “It’s black and it’s a thong.”

A smirk graced his lips. There was no one by one of her other paintings, allowing him the chance to whisper what he has in mind for her. “The next time you wear this dress again and I have to tag along, I want you to wear nothing underneath it.” Trish, continuing to keep up her facade of enjoying her time, simply smiled as if he told her something sweet before she took a sip of her champagne. “I will make you rub yourself on my leg like a depraved whore and it’ll be music in my ears to hear you beg for sweet relief from me.”

Whether it was automatically or by his words alone, her face flushed and she let out a soft giggle, hiding her smile with her glass. “Oh darling, how sweet of you. I should go and find our dear host and say my thanks to him. Hopefully I won’t take long but meet me in the private room over there soon.” Pointing at the closed doors guarded by two men at both sides of the door with a velvet rope to steer off anyone from approaching. “Tell them you’re with me and they’ll let you in.” Trish patted his broad shoulder and winked at him. “Fifteen minutes. Enjoy yourself, honey.”

He did his best to enjoy the rest of the gala alone. It was almost suffocating with people asking him for his thoughts and opinions on other artists’ works to Dullahan’s. As much as he didn’t like any of the artworks, he wished he could slit their throat right now if someone makes another disapproving remark on her paintings simply because of their thoughts on them. Bloody critics they are.

Fifteen minutes was nearly up and Krauser made his way to the private room she told him about. He noticed a selected number of people were allowed to enter, possibly connections with the said painters itself, and he was one of them to enter as soon he told the guards of his connection with Dullahan’s alias. 

The lightning in the room was dimmer and warmer compared to outside and there was a lesser number of paintings itself. Only five paintings, each belonging to one artist themself. One of the patrons did a double take on Krauser and was forced to look away when he bared his teeth at them. 

Why were they looking at him like that?

That’s when he met his painted self hanging on the wall. His portrait was wearing his military suit during his golden years with his signature red beret he wears now. In the painting, he was sitting on a fancy chair, his signature knife resting in his hand with his elbow resting on his knee propped up higher than the other. It made him look like he was one of those commanders from old period war era but with a modern take of it. Krauser noticed that she painted him scar free of them, making him look less stern than he is currently yet there was a glint of mischief in those icy painted blue eyes and the way his head is angled to the side as if someone caught him thinking something bad. More importantly, it was the smile she painted on him. It still wasn’t right but the way the corner of his mouth curled upwards to the way his lips parted very slightly exposing a flash of teeth matched the mischief look she painted. The background she painted was a dark green with a single window behind him showing a brief view of the beach that oddly looked familiar. 

Krauser was honestly awed by how much work she put into this portrait of him. He was lost with thoughts and no words could describe how she portrayed him to be displayed for private eyes to see.

Dullahan finally arrived, joining the soldier by his side. She smiled from seeing his stunned expression of her latest painting. She took note of his body language from his right hand cupping his own face, possibly to hide those parted lips from her eyes, the way his brows knitted together while one of them was raised, and how he wouldn’t stop staring at the painting to look at the painter herself.

“I’m glad you like it, Jackie.” She spoke softly so only they could hear it. “To be honest, I didn’t want this on display at the gala but he insisted I do. Thankfully none of these in this room are for sale but the ones outside.” She tucked the loose strands of her blonde wig behind her ear while she looked around their surroundings. “He’ll die slowly and by tomorrow it’ll be on the news. From a heart attack or a sudden stroke.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. “What do you think of it?”

“I like the colours.” He said. “Plus you didn’t make me look like those arrogant captains painted like gods.” 

“Glad to hear that, love.” Her mouth twisted and sighed a bit to herself. “The only thing I don’t like is that I couldn’t get your smile right. I did the best I could with what I did there.” 

“I don’t care. Looks good to me.” His answer was nonchalant despite her disappointment at the one thing she couldn’t achieve correctly. “Next time if you think of painting me again, paint the scars on. It’ll look better.”

“I’ll take note of that.” Dullahan lifted her head up to give him a sincere smile for his honest words. “I’m heading back out so I can have an alibi. Care to join me?”

“In a moment.”

“Sure thing.” She nodded her head and soon left the private room. Once everyone else had left the room, a smile graced his scarred lips, cocking his head to the side to admire the painting better and soon letting out a chuckle while stuffing his hands into his pockets. She nor anyone will ever see him smile right before their eyes and that will be his own secret. Besides, he liked how she painted her version of his smile. Despite not being a fan of art, he’s certainly a fan of her work.

“You did well, sweetheart. You did well.”

[ygreczed-3]

The Walking Dead/Detroit Become Human AU

(so basically I was tempted to make a post to apologize about the mess my blog has become lately - feels like I’m posting AUs, artworks, sketches and comic updates in such a chaotic way… I’m really sorry about it ahaha 😅 Hopefully it will get better soon)

So this post is me drawing for hours and forgetting to eat on my break day (I finally did !!! Don’t worry ahaha) because I became obsessed with an idea again. Also I like to make concept arts and storyboards as if I was working on a professional project for a TV show/animation. I find it fascinating ! This time I don’t really have any plot or finished story, I just wanted to draw these scenes badly so… I just did.

I’d like to draw your attention to Connor’s curly hair and Hank’s design (strongly inspired by Kristoff from Frozen). I just LOVE these details.

⚠️Remember this is NOT a new series. Just me having fun with characters and a universe I like (aka The Walking Dead) ! 

Anyway, more ideas below 👀

*POW*

Hank open his eye again. The walker was shot in the head. Hank pushes the walker away, it falls dead on the concrete.

Looking up, he sees Connor with a gun.

Hank : Jesus… Thank you.  I thought I was…

Connor : I wouldn’t have wasted a bullet for you if it wasn’t for your kid back there. Your car, does it work? Hank : … Yeah… I just… I was looking for some gas when… well… Can I drive you somewhere? Connor : Not really, I’m looking for someone.

___________________________

Hank and Cole are walking in a gas station with jerricans and pour what’s left of gas from the pump.

Cole : Dad, that mister from earlier, do you think he’s gonna be okay ? Hank : I think, pumpkin. He was the one helping us. Cole : Being alone sounds dangerous… He should have come with us. Hank : …

___________________________

It’s nighttime, Cole is sleeping in the backseats with a blanket, Hank is sleeping in the driver seat. He wakes up brutally as he hears something tapping softly against the car window : the young man from earlier. He rolls the window down.

Hank : You ? Connor : I’ve looked around the whole city. Now it’s too dark… I need a safe place to have some sleep, I was thinking you could let me in. You owe me after all. Hank : … Yeah sure. Get in.

Connor gets in the car. He takes his bag off and keeps it by his side, out of Hank’s reach. He takes his coat off but keeps a gun near him. Hank stares at him with narrowed eyes.

Hank : … You’re safe here, really. You can trust me. Connor : Sorry, but I only trust myself.

___________________________

It’s dark outside, Hank can’t really sleep with the stranger next to him. His guts dictate him to stay alert. He watches carefully as Connor turns his head to him, half-opening his eyes.

Connor: Can’t sleep ? Hank : … Well you were right… I don’t know you. What about you ? Did you sleep a little ? Connor : … No. I’m too… cautious. My brain won’t let me sleep with a stranger next to me. Hank : … My name’s Hank. You ? Connor : What the hell are you doing ? Hank : We agreed we couldn’t sleep next to strangers. I’m introducing myself. Connor : It won’t make it any better… *after a silence* I’m Connor. Hank : Nice to meet you. Connor: … Where were you before ? You… you act like a newborn in this hell… Hank : … I had a neighbor with one of those bunkers… with tons of food, water, enough to live for months. We… We were hiding there with her until… until a few weeks. Connor : What happened ? Hank : She thought she had heard a chopper. Thought someone was out there to rescue us… she opened the hatch and she was… attacked by those things… Connor: … the kid… he’s yours? Hank : Yeah… Cole. Connor: … Where’s her mom ? Hank : He’s never known her. Connor: Sorry.  Hank : Don’t be.

*silence*

Hank : I think… I’m starting to relax… we should try to sleep huh ?

Connor is already sleeping.

___________________________

Connor takes his backpack as Hank and Cole take a breakfast with some fire.

Hank : You sure you don’t want to eat anything ? Connor : No thanks, I have my own stock. You should save your food for your kid. Hank : … Hey, if you ever need to find us… after you’ve found what  you’re looking for, I have a police radio. Frequency 58,7 kHz. Connor: I won’t need it but- thanks. Good luck.

Connor leaves.

___________________________

Cole : What should we do now? Hank : … We need to find more food… and weapons. I’ll go downtown today. You… You’ll stay here alright? Cole : No I… I want to stay with you… Hank : I know you’re scared Cole… But it’s too dangerous. You’ll be safe hidden in the car. Cole : You’ll be quick? Hank : Back before sunset, pinky swear.

___________________________

Hank finds an axe on a bar counter.

Suddenly : *BONG BONG BONG BONG*

Hank : What the-

He runs outside and hides against a wall as walkers pass nearby, heading to the source of the ringing.

He looks up and sees Connor climbing on a ladder but a Walker is trying to grab his leg.

Hank comes and kills the monster. Connor : You..! Follow me !

On the rooftop, they see the church. It’s an automatic bell, the walkers are massively getting around the building. There is something painted on the wall that says “Find Jericho” with black paint and scribbled under it “Find 9s”

Connor : Nines… Hank : What is Jericho ? Connor : … A safe place for survivors. It’s hidden… to keep the thieves and killers away. Hank : … The church. Connor : What ? Hank : Jericho, it has to do with the bible. The message is written on a church’s wall. It’s not a coincidence, there might be… a hint in there. Connor : … But we can’t get inside with those creeps around… Hank : … Maybe they leave when the church stops ringing the bells. Connor : Or maybe we should try to lead them away with… Hank : With what ? Connor : … Your car.

___________________________

Connor : So, let me get it straight. You drive around the town honking. It will attract the creeps away from the church. I get inside the church and look for any kind of hint. When the bells start ringing I get out before the creeps come back. And what do we do with Cole ?

Hank : He’s going with you. I don’t want to have him in the car with hundreds of undeads trying to get me. Connor : … I don’t- Hank : Don’t worry. He’s a smart kid. He will do as you say. Right Cole? Cole : …Hmm. Connor: … Fine. Let’s do it.

___________________________

Connor and Cole sneak into the church. Connor kills two of the Walkers still inside the church as Cole follows him cautiously. 

Cole : … Look. *he points out a book on the altar* Connor : … It’s a bible… The chapter about the Battle of Jericho… it can’t be a coincidence. *They look up and see something written with old blood on the wall behind the altar. It says “Rahab the harlot defied the King of Jericho. Here lies the key to the fortress.”* Cole : What’s a harlot? Connor : … You should… ask your father. Now… I have to read… and think. Cole : … We only have one hour left before the bells ring again… Connor : I know.

___________________________

Connor : … I don’t get it ! There must be something I’m missing ! Cole : … Connor, I found a map ! Connor : Not now Cole, I’m trying to focus… Cole : Connor, look ! Connor : Cole please I really need-…

Cole shows him the map… there is a “9s” written on it.

Connor : Nines ! Cole : Does it help ? Connor : … I don’t know-…

The bells ring suddenly.

Connor : Crap… we have to get out of here. Give me your hand, buddy.

___________________________

Hank is waiting for them : he has lit a fire and when Cole sees him, he lets go of Connor’s hand and runs to hug his dad.

Hank : I gotcha, pumpkin. *looking up at Connor* Did you find something ? Connor : I think…  Hank : You think ? Connor : I have this map my brother left for me inside the church… there was some kind of riddle on the wall, and it must have something to do with this but… there is nothing noted on it. Hank : What’s the riddle ? Connor : “Rahab the harlot defied the King of Jericho, here lies the key to the fortress.” Rahab was a prostitute, she helped Joshua by hiding spies he sent inside the city… and Joshua spared her when he took the fortress. But I… I don’t see the connection. Hank : … Let me see the map.

Connor gives it. Cole sits next to his father, near the fire, and soon falls asleep. After some time thinking and overthinking it, Hank finally points to a town on the map. A city called Defiance.

Hank : Look. Connor : Defiance… Of course. The key lies in Rahab’s defiance… Defiance is a town… Fuck- You’re a genius…! Hank : Man, I was feeling like a Detective again… felt nice for a moment. Connor: You were a Detective? Hank : A police Lieutenant, to be specific. But yeah. Detective works too. Connor : … I don’t think the treasure hunt is done yet. You’re gonna need your supercop sense again ! Hank : … It’s good to see you all excited. Feels like meeting the real Connor under the survivor’s shell. Connor: It’s nice… that Cole and you don’t have that shell yet… humanity is a rare thing to find down there. Hank : … So, who is “Nines” ? Connor : My little brother. We lived together, in the same group of survivors. Our camp was attacked… we got separated. Hank : Looks like he’s smart. He solved the riddle all by himself. It took the two of us to understand the hint. Connor : He’s always been a nerd. Hank : Pffft… Well we should try to get some sleep. We should be able to reach Stoneton, then we’ll have to find more gas.

Hank gets up and carries Cole to the car seats.

Connor: … Hank…? Hank : Yup ? Connor : Can I… Can I come with you two ? I could go to Defiance by myself but… if you’re heading there too, maybe we could… Hank : What the heck ? Of course you’re coming with us. With our two half-brains we’re gonna need each other’s help to find Jericho and your brother, don’t you think ? Connor *chuckles* : Right.

[sananaryon]

May Marigold the Fall Maiden, Cinder Rhodes the Atlas Specialist and Winter Schnee the Happy Huntress

So this has been finished for a good while.

May, Cinder and Winter are honestly up there among my favorite RWBY characters, and I really love the way their backstories parallel each other. So why not see what would happen if their backstories paralleled each other just slightly differently?

I had the idea for this after reading the frankly amazing fics Blackened Bluebird by @badendchan​ and Holding The World On Their Shoulders by @ashelyskies​. These are not based on those fics, though, to be clear. These are my own takes on this idea which I love a lot, and this is not meant to reflect how the characters appear in those fics (though Winter ended up looking nearly the same as in HTWOTS purely on accident, and ashely apparently liked my Cinder design enough to incorporate elements of it in her story. Whops)

Notes on the process and designs are under the cut, and reblogs and comments keep the motivational juices flowing.

In reverse order of how I drew them, May was the hardest to make.

This sketch has gone through so many revisions I don’t even remember what the original looked like.

Hardest part was settling on an outfit of her. Since she takes the role of Fall Maiden in this au, I wanted to base her look on Cinder’s, but Cinder’s look is very personalized and wouldn’t work with May at all. I went a bit further back and took in elements of Salem instead, giving her a more goth look. Finally I just threw up my hands and gave her the kinda outfit I would wear if I was in RWBY (but with a much darker color scheme. I’m prep as fuck). What’s art for if not projection. Her hairstyle was actually the easiest, combining elements from the hairstyles she has in her concept art. I felt a long ponytail would vibe more with Slightly Evil May.

I also toyed around with giving her a Grimm arm like Cinder, specifically a nevermore wing (get it, she’s a bluebird). Turns out that drawing bird anatomy on a human is really hard, so I dropped that idea. The sword is basic as hell and honestly pretty rushed, but uuuuuuuuuuh drawings weapons is hard.

Figuring out her color scheme took a while. I tried to incorporate her main color of yellow a few times, but that didn’t really work out, so the only color she retains is her red scarf, and she replaces any brown and yellow in her outfit with blue and gold because you’re allowed to be a bit narcisistic when you’re one of the six most powerful single people in the world. I used purple as the main color of her dress to reflect how Salem is having a very strong influence on her in this au.

Winter also took a fairly long time to work with

This is what happens when you’re lazy with sketches, kids.

She was actually easier to make because I had a consistent design idea to work for. The Happy Huntresses aren’t exactly uniform, but they do share elements and I could strive for that with Winter. The only problem is that SHE’S ALREADY WEARING A FUCKING HH COAT, JUST WITH A LIGHTER COLOR SCHEME!!!

I ended up essentially giving her a more pragmatic and used version of her main outfit. Less prim and proper, more heavy and gritty. I also gave her the same kind of red scarf that May wears because Hellbore is good.

Other than that, the part that took the longest was her fucking weapon. WHY ARE WEAPONS SO HARD?!?!

She is smiling and has a more dynamic pose because she’s by far the only one in this au that can actually be considered happy. Ironwood and Salem are not good parental substitutes.

Nothing much to say about her color scheme. I threw ideas at the wall until something stuck. I settled on the dark blue color scheme because it still keeps with her blue theme, while also distancing herself more from her family, which is something she definitely has done by moving to Mantle.

And again with the Hellbore, her undercoat (the layer closest to her heart) is yellow, May’s old color of choice.

Finally, Cinder Rhodes, who might be my favorite out of these.

Miraculously, her sketch survived comparably untouched.

Cinder was actually the easiest of these to nail down, and I did the whole thing in about two days. Since Cinder is an Atlesian Specialist in this au, I could use the Atlas design philosophy as a base, and then give her some customizations to make her stand out. Cinder tends to show a lot of skin in canon, which is hardly proper military protocol, but I did what I could by giving her bare shoulders. The asymmetric coat is inspired by Rhodes, who has a similar asymmetric design on his chainmail thing.

The gem-flower thing was just a thing I added to give some variety. She wears it in canon, so I wanted to incorporate it in some ways.

The idea behind Cinder was that she is a member of an authoritarian system that does not value individualism, so her personal expression is only allowed to peek through in the small parts.

Cinder’s color scheme was hard to figure out not because nothing worked but because EVERYTHING did! These all look so good, god damn I’m proud of myself!

I ultimately went with the idea of having her outfit be mostly Atlas blue and white, with her color of choice, red, only able to slip through in the highlights and the inside of her coat. Because it’s who she is on the inside, y’see?

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[gummygowon]

finger paint | choi san

word count: 1.3k 

genre: fluff

established relationship!

warnings: san just makes a sex joke but that’s it 

request: hello hello could i request san with an artist!reader? like they're dating but he's also her muse and she paints him and hfjsjfjd pure fluff ig? also congrats on 100!! deserved

a/n: thank you!! <3 i hope you enjoy! ps. thank you for helping me with literally everything lol

“choi san!” you scolded your boyfriend as he kept moving wayyy too much for you to sketch his body.

“i’m sorry, i can’t help it. but you gave me something really boring to do.” san apologized as he motioned towards the english textbook you gave him. 

you sighed in annoyance thinking of other ways to occupy your boyfriend enough for him to stay still since you current art project was to capture someone in the act of doing something. so of course, you choose to paint san since it was another excuse for you to marvel at your boyfriend plus you got to spend even more time with him and get your schoolwork done. it was a three birds one stone type thing you know?

at first, you asked him to dance for you. letting him freestyle to whatever song was playing. if i’m being honest, you spent the first five minutes just watching san dance. you were absolutely entranced by the way he moved his body so effortlessly and smoothly. 

san had caught on to your staring and teased you for it. “are you gonna start drawing or are you just gonna keep your mouth open? because i’ll give you a reason to keep it open.”

your immediate reaction was to throw whatever was in your reach at him. your weapon of choice was an eraser that hit him square in the forehead. 

“ouch.” he pouted as he rubbed the targeted spot.

“that’s on you.” you defended as you picked up the eraser he threw back at you, your cheeks a pretty pink. “can you get back to dancing now please?”

“you sure? because i-”

“san!” you shouted at him as you pointed your pencil at him threateningly. 

“ok! ok!” he said immediately as he jogged back to his phone to hit play again.

as the music went on, the more you realized it was hard to capture a single dance move. you were getting frustrated each time you had to erase your page. 

“baby, is it okay if you can do something else?” you shyly asked him, feeling bad that he has to switch activities for you.

“sure, of course. what do you have in mind?” he asked you as he lowered the music.

this is how you were left with a twitchy san, who wouldn’t sit still while you tried to sketch him. he always changed his position every few minutes or so claiming that he couldn’t get comfortable. finally, you got tired of san changing positions which led to you slightly snapping at him.

but then a bright idea popped into your head.

there was an art sale at your local target which resulted in you buying some mediocre art supplies for your art students that you had lessons with during the week. you rushed into your storage closet, digging around bins and bags looking for the five-color finger paint set that you never used.

“where did you go?” your boyfriend asked as you returned with a palette and the bottles of paint in your arms. 

“i had to get something.” you answered as you sat back down on the floor, cracking open the paint, secretly praying that they weren’t dry and chunky. fortunately, your prayers were heard and the paint squeezed out the bottles with ease. 

“what’s that for?” san asked pointing to the paint bottle in your hand as he crouched down, “i thought you weren’t done with the sketch?”

“i’m not.” you handed the palette to him, “this is for you.”

“but where am i supposed to paint?” he asked you as he dipped a finger into one of the blobs of paint. 

“good question.” you replied back, motioning for him to sit. you didn’t have any spare canvases to use since you were already on a tight budget plus regular printer paper would just bleed through. you thought carefully about what other surfaces san could use to paint. a white board could work or maybe a-

“what the hell-” you shouted as you felt something touch your knee. you looked down to see san slowly removing his finger from your body, a glob of blue paint still stuck on his finger where a half drawn smiley face was left on your knee.

“i’m sorry.” san replied quickly as he removed his finger and went to go wipe it off. 

“wait.” you pushed his hand away from your leg. if you didn’t have any surfaces for him to paint on, then why don’t you become one? the paint was washable since it was made to be on skin plus you aren’t wasting any more art supplies. 

bingo

“you can keep painting-”

“on your legs?” san interrupted, giving you an odd look. 

“yeah, they’re fingerpaints it’s okay.” you smiled at him before picking up your sketchbook again. 

the pink haired boy shrugged his shoulders and picked up the palette of paint before returning your body. the first thing he did was finish his smiley face on your knee. then he started to dragging his finger around your calf after quietly asking you for to raise your legs, which created a long green line that wrapped around the bottom part of your leg. next, san used his middle finger to dip it into a pretty red color to make a flower right on top of the green line and then he dipped his pinky into some yellow to create the middle of the flower. after alternating between colors and fingers, san had managed to create a pretty vine that had a different colored flower every few inches. he also threw in a few small bees around the plant. 

before continuing to paint the other leg, san had stolen a glance at you. he felt a smile form on his face as he watched your hands glide against the paper smoothly and skillfully with your bottom lip tucked underneath the top one. sunlight falling on you, making your skin glow. san could feel his heartbeat quicken, the longer he stared. he never imagined being able to date someone as lovely and amazing as you. someone who was able to love him but also be his best friend. someone who he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life. 

you could feel your boyfriend’s gaze on you which slowly made you look up from your sketchbook, “what?” is there something on my face?”

“huh? oh no.” san answered as he watched you perked your head up, making eye contact with him. he could feel his heartbeat even faster when your face broke into smile. fuck. he really was in love. 

“what is it?” you asked, a laugh escaping your mouth as you looked at your flustered boyfriend.

“nothing, i just love you.” he replied, gaining some composure. 

now it was your turn to get flustered. you could feel heat rush to your cheeks for the twentieth time today. damn, the things this boy did to you. dating san was full of surprises, cute cuddly moments turning into heated ones. but the biggest one to you was the thought of spending your futures together. he was your only partner that your mind really brought up about spending the rest of your life with someone you love so much. now it was a clearer answer. 

yes, you would spend the rest of you life with choi san. your best friend, boyfriend, and muse. the person who would have your back for life, no matter what. 

“do i not get a ‘i love you’ back?” san pouted with his fingers still covered in paint. 

“yeah.” you teased him, an annoying smile plastered on your face as you dipped a finger into the paint. it was quite obvious that you loved the pink haired boy back but you wanted to mess with him after he wouldn’t sit still. 

“whyyy? that’s not-”

you cut him off by poking his cheek with the finger covered in a bright blue.

“hey!” he shouted at you before reaching to grab a leg but you got up so quickly and sprinted away from his touch. “come back here! i want my ‘i love you’ !”

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

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

Genres: Action / Drama

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

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A long way home was awaiting her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Squad Leader…”

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

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

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

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

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

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

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

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

But she was alone in that bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is. It always will.”

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always have been heroes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He actually wrote so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not like she did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have—"

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

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

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

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

"Hange and I have been working together before."

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

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

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

"Nice ones, I hope?"

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

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

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

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so the shadow finally took form.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

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

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

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

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

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

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

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

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

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

But what would she do?

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

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

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

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

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

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

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

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She just needed to give him a little push.

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

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

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

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

[hoedorokishoto]

Trust - Part 1

Shoto Todoroki x Reader 

+ Minors DNI

| part | next

“You know, if you just stopped getting kicked in the head, I wouldn’t need to fix your gear all the time.” I said, my hands running over the smooth metal of Hitoshi’s voice modulator. Different from the first one I had made him 2 years ago; small changes being made to help your best friend become the best hero he could be.

“Maybe I miss hanging out with you. You are worth a swift kick to the head.” He said from behind me, walking around the room as he spoke. Looking at the various machines, weapons, and other projects I was working on in the workshop. I laughed at his response, shaking my head as I screwed the missing panel back into place.

“You flatter me.”

Hitoshi Shinso had been your best friend since before both of you were even born. Your dad and his parents, living next to each other since their early 20’s, experiencing drunken nights, sad days and the trials of parent hood together. So in turn you and Toshi had done everything together. First steps, first words and first days of school.

“I saw you and Mr Aizawa on TV.” I said beaming, the thought of him realising his dreams and making them a reality enough to make my heart soar.

“Oh yeah, it was pretty weird. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Neither will Mr Aizawa.”

“Lucky you guys are so chatty.”

It was him who laughed this time, coming up next to me and hugging me into his side. I did miss him, his hero work and my support work taking up much of whatever spare time we had. Especially being 3rd years, our futures looming over us even more, having to make final decisions about our future. Gone were the days of dressing up as our favourite heroes and running around our homes catching our parents who pretended to be villains. Now all I seemed to think about where internship offers and upcoming exams, mathematic equations often overtaking my thoughts even in my dreams.

The gear didn’t need much fixing just a loose panel and a few scratches, something easy that I could fix in a matter of minutes.

“Good as new!” I said, holding up the voice modulator and admiring my handy work, then passing it back to Hitoshi.

“You’re the best Y/N, ramen is on me next time.” Hitoshi said, winking and taking the equipment from me. Placing it over his face and making the necessary adjustments.

The workshop was surprisingly quiet, usually filled with the noise of machines and steel clanging together. The music usually turned up to max volume as the other support course students worked on support gear for other heroes. Hatsume clearly wasn’t here because it had been a whole 3 hours with no explosions nearby.

“So how is Kaibara?” Toshi asked, quirking his purple eyebrow at me. I rolled my eyes at his question, stepping around him and back over to my tool bench.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”

“Well I only ask because you seem to know him a lot better than I do. Intimately I would say.”

“Ew, don’t say intimately. Are you 95 years old?” I said, faking chills and a look of disgust on my face.

Sen and I weren’t dating, I didn’t want to date him but the time we did spend together proved effective in helping relieve the everyday stress of living at UA and being a Hero Support student. The sex was good, and he was handsome, always considerate of me and never did anything I was uncomfortable with. The more I thought about it, the more perfect he seemed. He very well might be, but just not for me. There was never any substance behind my feelings for him beyond the attraction to sleep with him. If we did interact outside of the bedroom it was purely platonic, just friends and nothing more. As bad as it sounded, I was using him for personal benefit and nothing more.

"He talks about you a lot.”

I looked into his eyes and flipped my hair, a cocky grin overtaking my features.

“Well… what can I say?”

“Not like that you weirdo, he asks a lot of questions. He wants to know more about you.” Hitoshi laughed, slapping my arm, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you guys not talk?”

“Why would we need to?” I asked, not quite understanding the question. My back to Hitoshi now, tidying my workstation as I waited for his answer. We knew what we needed to know about one another, our names, birthdays, and a few general things but beyond that it seemed irrelevant.

“I think he likes you.”

“Well I hope he does he puts his penis inside me Hitoshi.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant. He like likes you.”

I stilled; my back still turned towards my friend. My view of relationships was always clouded by indifference. I could blame it on the fact that my parents didn’t work out or I could blame it on my preferences, hell I could even blame it on my star sign. Whichever excuse I chose I always knew that deep down I knew that relationships would never work, and people were better off alone, if I didn’t fully give someone my heart there is no way that they could rip it out of my chest and step on it. I would never put myself in that situation.  

“That sounds like his problem, not mine.” I said coldly, picking up my bag and heading to the door, hopefully hearing the end of this conversation.

“Ramen is on you remember. I’m hungry.”

Without another word I flicked off the light by the door and headed out of the workshop, Hitoshi picking up speed to walk beside me, not saying another word.

                                                                *

The walk back to UA was always killer, that dam hill being the bane of my existence for the last 3 years. The silence was almost deafening, I could feel Hitoshi holding something back. Wanting to say something, something about the conversation earlier no doubt.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I can feel you being gloomy, more so than usual. It’s irritating.”

Hitoshi sighed, rubbing his eyes with one of his hands. Shaking his head as he stopped.

“I want you to be happy! Is that so wrong? What’s wrong with Kaibara?”

“If you like him so much why don’t you date him.”

“I don’t want to make jokes!” He said, stepping past me, and continuing up the hill.

“Why is this so important to you? You’ve never really cared before.” I asked, jogging to catch up to him. He didn’t answer, he just linked our arms and continued up the hill. Pushing whatever he was feeling down and sealing it away.

“Denki is having a party in the 3A dorm this weekend. Wanna come?” Hitoshi asked changing the subject and tightening his arm around mine.

“Mr Aizawa is allowing that?”

“Yeah, apparently it will be good for us to blow off some steam before the school year really kicks off. His words not mine.”

He sensed my hesitation.

“Hatsume is going to be there, she even convinced IIda to go.” He said raising his eyebrows.

“Wow, that is impressive.” I said matter of factly, nodding my head. The class rep of the 3A was known for being a real stickler for the rules. Keeping everyone in order and always being the epitome of a model student. Bless his soul, but he wasn’t really the party type. The picture of him in that environment was enough to convince me to go.

“Please, who is going to help me stop Denki from being an idiot?”

“Literally any of his other friends?”

“Yeah but you are so pretty, and he is a simp.” Toshi said matter-of-factly.

“Fine, but if I don’t see Tenya do his little arm thing at least once then I’m gonna be so mad at you.” I said giggling and tightening his arms once more.

“I can guarantee it, it will be Denki and a party. It’s like you don’t even know him.”

                                                               *

Me and the rest of class 3H had been instructed to be at Ground Gamma for a joint training session between 3A and 3B, the hero support students were to observe and help with gear whenever needed. Taking notes on current gear and seeing where adjustments were needed. As the future heroes got better at handling their quirks and being in tense situations some fights ended with a lot of damage. Whether it be to the heroes themselves or their gear, that’s where we came in.

I always seemed to forget just how big the facilities at UA really were, most of the grounds built to look like entire blocks of actual cities. Ground Gamma was made up of various exposed pipes and machinery, the combination giving a labyrinth affect perfect for heroes to improve theirs fighting skills in tight spaces.

Watching them was impressive, just how far they had come in a few short years was a credit to just how hard they trained every day. I felt safe and content knowing that these people were going to be patrolling the city one day and keeping people safe.

“Hey stranger!” a voice yelled in the distance, Sero’s tall body coming into view as he walked closer to me. Denki and Toshi following closely behind.

“Afternoon.” I said, saluting the boys as they got closer, standing on either side of me examining the work bench and tools that we had set up before anyone else arrived.

“How is my favourite little nerd?” Denki asked, nudging my arm with his and hugging me.

“I’m good, excited to see you guys train today.”

“Aw babe, prepare to be amazed!” Denki said, winking at me, his arm still slung around my side.

“Y/N could watch me burp the alphabet and be more impressed.” Hitoshi said sarcastically.

“You guys are so harsh.” He replied, clutching his hand to his chest and feigning sadness.

The group laughed as I turned around and prepared for this afternoon’s events. Ready to take notes and sketch new designs. The students had started filling up the platform, sitting in the groups they had been assigned, discussing the best plans of attack depending on their quirks.

“Everyone gather around!”

“Today will be a bit different, after today’s exercise we will be assigning you with new support students based on where we think the heroes need improvement and previous projects from the support course students. We will also be looking at your scheduled internships and work studies and matching you based on that so we can get all heroes and their gear to the best they can be before graduation.” Mr Aizawa said, commanding the attention of everyone on the platform. He wore his usual nonchalant expression, hair down and hands in his pockets.

Everyone talked amongst themselves about the recently learned information. As of right now I worked on Bakugo, Uraraka and Hitoshi’s costumes and support gear. The first two hero costumes were my entrance exam task, getting a rough design, a file on both students and their quirks and having to design according to that. Now making adjusts when needed or wanted. The most recent addition was two earpieces for Bakugo to reduce the noise of his explosions but still allowing him to hear regular noise, so he didn’t lose any sense while fighting. In hopes that his explosions wouldn’t damage his hearing anymore than it already had.

New projects were always welcome, in hopes of keeping my grades high before graduation. Hero Agencies always quick to offer students internships based on good grades and successful support gear.

“So to get this started, give it your best and good luck!” Allmight finished, the first two groups of students heading to their assigned bases to start training.

                                                             *

The training finished, class A’s teams winning the most training battles and celebrating accordingly. Cheering and hugging each other. My notebook already full of notes and sketches for potential changes and brand-new designs.

“Everyone please look up at the screen and look at who you have been given as your support students. There will be no changing so no complaining.” Aizawa said, already walking off the platform. Probably to wrap himself up in his sleeping bag.

There in large blue writing was my name.

Y/N Nanase – Hitoshi Shinso, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki

I looked over at the student who was newly assigned to me, there Shoto Todoroki was in all his half and half glory. One blue eye and one dark grey already staring back at me.