#/I'VE STARTED WRITING THE SCENE./

[iamthepulta]

22.5K PRE-EDITING

/smacks table GOD THAT WAS FUN TO WRITE. GOD MY BRAIN IS FRIED.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I love how a well-written romance is so often structured as a mystery. A person starts with a certain idea about another person, and over the course of the story, they uncover more evidence that gives them a fuller picture of who the other person truly is. They learn about layers to the personality and backstory that give the other person more depth. They learn how the other person's personality meshes with theirs. Even the third-act misunderstanding fits the mystery structure--it looks like they've uncovered the final secret to the other person's identity, which is that they're not the worthy person they seemed to be, but then discover that they misinterpreted that evidence, or the other person takes steps to apologize and repair the level of trust. When the mystery is resolved, they've reached a full understanding of each other and know they've found a partner they can trust their whole future to.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Killua and the Power of Wishes

Okay going to try and make this coherent because the amount of wish association all through Killua's character development makes me want to chew plaster.

As a fair warning, this analysis ended up being long as hell, and I didn't even include everything I could've said. This is also just one lens to analyze Killua's story arc with, and I feel there are other valid interpretations of some of these moments. This is just one of mine, so keep that in mind please.

One last warning that this analysis does discuss emotional manipulation and abuse, as is par for Killua's background.

Let's set the stage with one important piece of info: Killua's birthday.

Killua's birthday is July 7th, the same day as Tanabata. Tanabata is a folklore-rich festival where according to legend, the two lovers, weaver Orihime and cowherd Hikoboshi, represented by the two stars, Vega and Altair, are allowed to reunite once a year after separation. A popular custom of Tanabata is to make wishes by writing them down on tanzaku, then hang it on a bamboo tree so that the wish might one day come true.

Tanabata is also known as the Star Festival. Please keep this in mind, because I'm going to come back to it.

To finish setting up the lens for this analysis, I'm going to need to dig into the game-changer scene for Killua's early characterization - his confrontation with Illumi at the end of the Hunter Exam, and specifically, the exact nature of Illumi's manipulation of him.

I say "game-changer" because it really is - up until this point, it's kind of fair to not fully know what to think about Killua. Certainly, he seems excited to hang out with Gon (he approached him first, after all) and he's friendly enough, but he's also arrogant and claims to be motivated mainly by boredom. For all intents and purposes, Killua seems set up to be Gon's dangerous yet charismatic rival... but then this scene happens and it completely turns it all on its head.

Because Killua may have mentioned his family was controlling before, but he seriously downplayed the severity of it - likely because he has no point of reference for how awful his situation actually is other than it makes him feel bad and trapped. Illumi's appearance immediately shifts our understanding of Killua from runaway murder kid with annoying murder family to straight-up victim of emotional abuse, and dissolves his cockiness instantly to terror.

What does all this have to do with wishes? Glad you asked. Let's look at some of Illumi's dialogue.

[ID: A screenshot from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. Killua looks up, sweating and conflicted, as Illumi tells him "You don't want anything or wish for anything." End ID.]

This is the crux of Illumi's (and the family's) control. Killua's desires do not align with the family trade. They must be excised from him.

When Killua insists that he does have something that he really wants, Illumi says "Tell me what it is you want", in a mockery of a certain other sibling who would have helped fulfill this wish - Illumi asks only so he can completely dismantle it. And Killua isn't even really surprised at Illumi's words, just heartbroken. You can tell this isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened.

Killua states his wish quite fervently; he really means it. But his words are not rebellious, nor cathartic. Instead, he answers Illumi quietly, as if fearful or ashamed, almost reminiscent of a sinner's confession.

[ID: Two screenshots from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. In the first Killua looks down with a troubled expression, saying "I want to become friends with Gon...". In the second, his face is hidden as he stands with hands clenched at his sides with a spotlight on him. He says "I'm sick of killing people..." End ID.]

It's such an innocent, simple want.

And Illumi proceeds to make him feel like even something so simple is harmful and selfish of him... not to the family, but to Gon.

In a matter of a few minutes, Illumi breaks down Killua's wish by:

Acknowledging this desire, but twisting it into something that will inevitably fade over time, thereby causing Killua to doubt his own conviction and feelings -> "Gon is a novelty, a radiant presence who has piqued your curiosity. No more than that."

Acknowledging that Gon is someone important to Killua, and undermining this by telling him that by his very nature, he will eventually bring harm to Gon, which makes him feel as though Killua cannot trust himself to be a good friend -> "If you try to be friends with him, you will one day want to kill him... because you are, by nature, a murderer." (As a... delightful... bonus, this is also apparently how Silva and Illumi justify their treatment of Killua to him - "This is the essence of your existence and we taught you accordingly." Like they adapted to Killua's nature, instead of them molding Killua into who they wanted him to be.)

Delivering an ultimatum - to fight Illumi and win, or else Gon will die - that Killua is doomed to fail due to his upbringing and the needle in his head. Since Killua doesn't know about the needle, he assumes this is his own personal failure, something Illumi feeds into -> "You're just not qualified to make friends."

And it's the last point that breaks him. The first two shoot down Killua's present wish, but the last proceeds to shatter any hope he might've had of wishing for anything similar in the future - he has told him that his desires are weak, temporary, inherently dangerous to those around him, and worst of all, aren't enough on their own for him to deserve friendship and love from others. And the clincher: Killua feels like all of this is his own fault, that there is something inherently dangerous and wrong with him!

So, it doesn't even matter to Killua anymore if he fails the Hunter Exam. To him, he just failed the only test that mattered.

10/10 manipulation, Illumi. Fuck you, seriously.

Killua's character arc is mainly his quest and struggle to refute Illumi's arguments and to shake off the manipulation and the ways in which his family have molded and controlled him. And by far, the most difficult part of his conditioning to shake off is this idea that he is undeserving of anything more than what he is already given.

It's almost like the family has drilled it into him that wishes are dangerous. How interesting.

Thankfully, however, there are two parties to Killua's wish here - Gon, too, is a part of it, and it is not simply his reciprocated desire to be Killua's friend that saves him, but also his recognition of Killua's situation for what it is (notably, when no one else correctly identified the true issue).

"You know it wasn't his choice. You manipulated him, kidnapping his spirit!"

The ensuing Zoldyck family arc emphasizes that Gon is 100% correct: the main hold Killua's family has on him isn't physical - it's all emotional.

Killua breaks one of his shackles when Milluki threatens to have his new friends killed, but he only breaks the rest when Zeno tells him he's free to go. So, if Killua could break loose at any point, was this still a rescue like Gon said?

Well, yes - just because he absolutely could've broken out physically at any time, that does not mean he could just leave. That's the nature of situations such as this - it's not as simple as "just leaving". Support is necessary, as is actually having something tangible outside the situation to go to - otherwise there is little point to leaving at all. Gon (and Kurapika and Leorio) showing up to free Killua showed him that his wish was reciprocated and allowed him to break one cuff - this is the start of his journey, but he still has a long ways to go. Notably, he again hesitates and closes off when Silva asks what he wants.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 42. In the first, Silva asks Killua "...would you like to see [Gon]?" Killua's expression is complicated in the next panel - he's closed off and uncertain. Silva continues "Be honest, Kil... what do you want?" End ID.]

Killua will backtalk and casually break his shackles and death glare his family... but he's too fearful to voice his wants aloud.

And once again, asked by his father what he wants, he is subtly set up to fail. His wish is granted, but made conditional - "Do not betray your friends", something Killua is regrettably set up to do by virtue of the needle in his head that he, again, doesn't know about. Silva fully expects him to fail and come back home, disillusioned, believing it's his own fault due to his "nature", and trusting in Silva still as a "reasonable" figure in his life.

This condition placed on his friendship is what drives much of Killua's fear and insecurity with regards to Gon for much of the series - the idea that Killua has to earn his right to friendship, and that if he doesn't, he will lose it, one way or another.

It really makes me wish that Killua had actually gotten to hear Gon's views on friendship from the beginning of the Zoldyck Family arc, because it entirely refutes this entire philosophy. He even outright refuses to go through the Testing Gates at first, purely because he thinks the sentiment of needing to prove yourself just to be friends is completely outrageous - he only relents because there is no other way.

[ID: Two screenshots from episodes 21 and 22 of the 2011 HxH anime adaptation. Gon looks up at Illumi and firmly states "[Killua] doesn't need to earn the right to be my friend!" In the second, Gon's face is seen in profile and close up as he asks "Why would you test your friends?" End ID.]

I doubt it would've truly prevented Killua's insecurity from manifesting even if he had heard this, to be honest - his issues with usefulness are very deep-rooted in his upbringing - but still, it would've been nice for him to hear, I think.

However, that's not to say that this exact sentiment doesn't come through in their interactions.

Gon, as Killua's friend, cares about what Killua actually wants and wants to make sure Killua knows that - and that's part of what makes the Whale Island conversation between them really important.

[ID: Two images, both of the same scene from HxH chapter 64, and episode 37 of the 2011 anime. In the manga panel, Gon has turned his head to look at Killua directly, who looks shocked and taken aback, to say "I like hanging out with you." In the anime screenshot, Gon has turned his whole body to face Killua, and says "I think it's fun to be with you." End ID.]

I see a lot of people chalk this up to just Gon being Gon, but it reads to me as much more deliberate than even his usual honesty. He's turned so he's looking directly at Killua, which is a sure way to make his words come across clearly. The lead up to this is Killua, again, not knowing or being able to vocalize what he wants. He doesn't have a goal to work towards like Gon, he only knows what he doesn't want - he's a mix of envious and admiring towards Gon, who knows what he wants and simply goes for it.

But this conversation makes it clear that they have a shared wish - they both want to be friends, and they'd both like to stay together. It's not about earning, to Gon, it's only about if they both want the same thing - mutual, not conditional. There's a nice almost call-and-response type dialogue here, where Gon asserts that he likes spending time with Killua (very directly lol), then shares that Killua is the first friend his age he's had. This prompts Killua to say that Gon is his first friend ever, and that he does have fun with him. And just like that, Gon replies "Then let's stay together!" and pointedly includes Killua's desire to find a goal in their, now shared, upcoming journey.

Overhead, a shooting star appears in the sky. A mutual wish is granted.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 64. The night sky is full of stars. In the centre is a shooting star. End ID.]

Hm. Stars. Remember how I told you to keep that in mind, all the way back at the beginning? Their association with Tanabata, making a wish on a shooting star, etc. etc.?

Well, buckle up because this star is going to make you experience so much sadness now.

[ID: Panels from HxH chapter 286. The first is a conversation between Killua and Meleoron where Killua asserts he intends to "go down in flames with [Gon]". When Meleoron looks concerned, Killua brushes off the declaration as a joke. In the second image, Killua is turned away, his outline pale, as Meleoron thinks "Why... did you looks so sad... back there?" The last image is a cloudy night sky filled with stars. At the centre of the panel is a shooting star. End ID.]

Yeah, it makes its reappearance directly after Killua has "jokingly" resolved to die with Gon if it comes down to it, after "since it means nothing to you".

I am assured, in Japanese, the word choice here is 心中 (shinjuu), the word for double suicide, where the intent is to die at the same time in the same manner in order to be reunited in the afterlife. The implication here is that Killua, having increasingly grown insecure in his place by Gon's side but unable to voice this, knowing that Gon is hurtling down the path of no return, thinks back to their conversation under the stars where they both mutually wished to stay together and, because he believes that it is no longer possible for him to help Gon, has resolved to stay by his side in death, and after it.

...holy shit, kid.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 4th ending of the 2011 anime. In the first, Gon and Killua stand back to back as meteors fall around them. In the second, they stand facing away from the audience towards a body of water under a night sky filled with stars - Gon throws a stone, which flashes in the air like a shooting star. End ID.]

And of course, here's the shooting star again in the 2011 anime's Nagareboshi Kirari ending, as well as it being the subject of the song itself and rather explicitly referencing that wish to go on a journey together, to stay together, because... Madhouse hates us. I guess. :'(

What started off as a simple wish for a friend deepened into a wish to always stay by Gon's side. This is largely good at first! Killua is able to explore and experience genuine friendship, to get a taste for freedom, and use the power of his fervent wish to protect his dear friend in order to rid himself of Illumi's needle. However, the more Killua wants, the more he traps these wishes in monologues within his own head and does not voice them aloud. Part of it is that he already feels he's been given much more than he deserves - seeing himself as a creature of darkness and Gon as light - but a greater part of the issue here is not that Killua is afraid to wish for things, but that he is afraid wishing without "compensation" will inevitably lead to horrible repercussions - namely, losing who he loves.

In order to feel worthy of staying with Gon, of earning his friendship, Killua works hard to help Gon achieve his goals, taking on the role of wish grantor, growing to do practically anything needed to support him for seemingly nothing in return - but that's not 100% true. Killua wants at least some appreciation, whether he admits it or not - it's a security thing, and it also clearly makes him happy, even if he's not great at accepting it. He insists in Chimera Ant arc that friends don't need to thank friends, but this declaration always read as very sudden to me or like a rationalization, and it's relevant to remember that this is at the peak of Gon isolating himself and self-destructing before his eyes, and Killua's own insecurity regarding his importance to him.

Killua might not mind doing things without thanks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to hear that Gon appreciates him. He clearly does appreciate verbal confirmation of their bond! We know this.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 2011 anime. The first is from episode 61. Killua smiles down at the ground with his hands in his pockets, the colours having gone soft and bright. The second is from episode 70 during the dodgeball match. Gon smiles determinedly in the foreground as Killua looks shocked next to him. End ID.]

Keeping all this in mind, Killua's story, or at least this part of it, couldn't have concluded in a better way than his rescue of Alluka, the wish grantor.

Now, I could probably write an entire other analysis on Alluka and Nanika alone, but for the sake of not making this any longer than I already have, I'm going to go through only a few points. Alluka is incomprehensible to her family because they make no attempt to understand her, with the exception of Killua. The only thing they do seem to understand, when explained to them, is the demands made after Nanika grants a wish - this, of course, fits neatly into their own predetermined views on "earning" and "punishment". However, beyond this, they make no attempt to understand her, and since her power is deemed dangerous and uncontrollable, she is locked away.

They are worried, first and foremost, that Alluka will bring harm to the family, and there's two ways in which this could be true:

As a function of failing to fulfill her requests, of course

Because she, just by existing, threatens the family's status quo

I stated at the beginning that Killua's desires do not align with those of the family business, and he's always apparently been more open to understanding others - he asks Alluka and Nanika questions to understand them, and treats them with respect, while his family are more so focused on subjugating anything that might be a threat. This is what Illumi tried to drill into Killua after all; never fight a superior opponent - everything is about assessments of relative strength, which leaves no room for open-mindedness or getting to know people.

Faced with a daughter who is clearly incomprehensibly powerful, and a son, the would-be inheritor of the family trade, who is showing a disturbing amount of willingness to befriend instead of retreat from her, the family made the decision to excise Alluka not just from where she could "harm" the family power-wise, but also likely to secure their control over Killua, who they then set about practically programming to not have any more wishes for himself, or at least to not be able to vocalize them without fear of loss or retribution.

The family's nickname for Killua is "Kil" or "Killu", which is deeply fascinating to me as a reader - nicknames are expressions of endearment, typically, and I actually don't doubt that here. Killua's family does love him, but their love comes with conditions. He must be molded into the perfect son, and every part of him that doesn't fit must be excised.

So: Killua's memories of Alluka are suppressed with the needle, and she is further cut from his life by dropping the "a" from his name (the Zoldyck children are named like a game of shiratori - Illumi -> Milluki -> Killua -> Alluka -> Kalluto). The nickname is also like a command or order "to kill", which is of course what they want him to do.

Saving Gon through saving Alluka and Nanika forces Killua to have to face down the last and hardest of Illumi's manipulations to shake, and that's the notion that a wish, that kindness and friendship and love, cannot be unconditional without severe repercussions - where the people he cares about get hurt because of him, something he cannot envision being forgiven for.

It's a little sad to me that after spending most of the series struggling against his family's teachings that they didn't lead to Killua betraying Gon at all, as he'd feared... but to him betraying Nanika, by sending her away.

Here is this little girl with a bloodstained past, incredibly powerful and dangerous and capable of amazing feats, treated as some evil thing by those who fear her. But she is kind at heart. Her true strength lies in healing, not killing. And she only takes commands from Killua.

Illumi thinks this is because Killua is the only one with control over her. Killua believes this is because she wants praise. They're both partially correct, but this is not the full reason Nanika does what Killua asks of her.

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146 of the 2011 anime. In the first, Nanika smiles and says "I love Killua." In the second, Killua looks at her, stricken. End ID.]

Nanika loves him. Everyone has been trying to figure out all these complicated rules and conditions on her wish granting and why Killua is the one exception, but the answer is exceedingly simple. She loves him, and wants to do nice things for him so he can have his wishes granted. It's the only way she knows to get the love that she wants in turn.

Just like her brother, Nanika makes herself useful to earn love and appreciation from someone who accepted her when no one else did.

Even though he knows Nanika just wants to help, he still sees her presence as a danger to the person he sees as pure and innocent who must be protected. He sends her away because her "nature" is to be a threat to Alluka's safety, even if she doesn't intend to be. Killua's fear of Illumi and repercussions causes him to make a horrible mistake.

And Alluka tears into him for it.

[ID: A set of panels from HxH chapter 336. A furious Alluka glares and asks Killua if he made Nanika cry. When Killua stutters, she demands he apologize to her. End ID.]

You tell him, girl.

Oh hey, this looks a little familiar, huh?

"Apologize to Killua!" says Gon to Illumi after Illumi sends Killua away.

Nanika should not be the one punished for the actions of those trying to control her. She certainly shouldn't be forced to leave those she loves, or have to earn love from them.

And neither should Killua.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 336. Alluka yells, tears in her eyes, "If you're going to protect me... you have to protect Nanika too!!" Killua looks shocked, then his eyes widen. End ID.]

It's interesting to me that this is the line that snaps Killua out of his fear enough for him to properly speak with Nanika and apologize. One party cannot receive all the protection, nor can the other only give and give limitlessly.

Killua makes it clear to Nanika when speaking with her that he will protect her, and that she doesn't need to earn affection from people by granting their wishes. He promises they will both be there for each other - Killua will praise her whenever she wants, and not just when she does something for him, but he also doesn't refuse Nanika's desire to grant his wishes. It's mutual, not conditional.

And on the heels of this "betrayal", Killua asks for what he never thought he could receive - forgiveness. And even though Nanika is clearly still very upset...

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146. In the first, Nanika and Killua face each other, both of them teary. Nanika says "Kay." In the second, he has pulled her into a hug. Nanika is teary, her fingers gripping Killua's back tightly. End ID.]

...she doesn't even have to think about it.

I do think Killua still has a ways to go, but he is in a position right now to learn from his relationship with his sisters about balance - that love is not just selfless devotion, but also allowing those who love you to help you and make you happy too. I think that's what unconditional love is, in a way - supporting and working together with the people you love to make each other's wishes come true.

[buttercupshands]

MHA didn't create some miracle way of helping others. It was never promised to be this way. And when it came to villains...

Spoilers for manga all the way to chapter 423.

The only way to get anything in life in MHA was to be born "normal" like everyone else and that way of thinking never left Izuku with Toga getting the same treatment she did before from everyone from her family to her "normal" classmates. It was Ochako who helped Toga even if just a little by lifting the weight of all the feelings that Toga had.

She couldn't save Toga the way one could save a civilian by saving them from harm. If it worked that way Dabi would've saved Toga even before Ochako could apologize for failing to notice Toga. She was so lazer focused on saving everyone else, that she was just another villain to stop, not a human.

Even if by the end of it Ochako helped Toga to deal with her grief, acceptance as it was wasn't something possible when a quirk makes you want to drink someone's blood from jealousy.

We got a bittersweet ending with Toga, in which she probably died from blood loss just like her double did in MVA. If it wasn't for Twice she would've died back then.

Giving away her blood for Ochako wasn't a redemption or a way to save Toga in the end, more as it was her being true to herself until the very end.

Just like Twice chose to stay with the League even if Hawks offered him a way to survive that battle. He refused and died protecting his friends who accepted him instead of choosing to betray them and accept Hawks' offer.

After Twice's death... It was a matter of time that more 'active' LoV members would join him as well. As sad as it is, we now can return to Izuku.

Who, after his time OFA-AFO quirk space, now wanted to help a "crying boy" he saw in Tenko just as before with Katsuki in chapter 1. He didn't forgive Tomura and didn't excuse the way he chose to solve his problems.

It didn't mean that Tomura would survive in their battle, even if Izuku didn't see killing others as a way to solve problems. He didn't understand Tomura, but he still wanted to try, and try he did.

The rest of this post was nothing more than a contextual prologue to understand that it's not the first time a hero failed to save a villain and in Twice's case we know that he died and his death was the reason Toga started thinking about her own possible death and Dabi finally revealed himself as Toya.

The goal of saving a "crying boy" never was an end-goal for Izuku in the Final arc, since helping Tomura deal with his feelings just left him hollow with a goal that clashed with Izuku's. As being a hero for villains meant destroying the world for them to help them live freely.

But that was before AFO resurfaced.

Sadly after that Tomura who was talking about making his own choices for a while now stopped doing that. Even if he still had a goal of helping villains and only villains, Tomura was almost gone. And his goals were now unreachable.

Izuku helped Nana who in turn kept Tomura from fading away entirely. In MHA there were countless situations where Izuku's help affected people by helping a different person to keep hope, All-Might being the first one and Nana being the last one at the moment.

Hollow after Izuku helped him to get rid of his hatred Tomura could do the only thing he did - accept the situation as it was.

Accepting AFO as his Sensei, accepting Stain's ideals and Overhaul's deal was the way he solved his problems. Just like Izuku had a problem of understanding something outside of his norm, Tomura was accepting too many things, which lead to his downfall after accepting AFO's quirk.

Just like Twice could've given up everything that he had for his friends so did Tomura.

With Izuku helping as much as he could let Tomura to finally rest as he wasn't really living ever since waking up in the hospital. With his body now affected by AFO's wishes instead of his own until the end.

In a way Izuku didn't succeed in his wish for Tomura to stop ever since PLF war arc. As he "kept fighting to destroy" no matter how hard Izuku tried to stop him.

The only thing he succeeded in was changing Tomura's mind about himself, instead of viewing himself as a monster he accepted that he was a human just like Izuku said. A "crying boy" who couldn't really destroy Izuku's hands in the end.

For a group of Villains who weren't supposed to get profiles of their own at the start of the series, League is slowly fading as the most memorable group that there was in MHA, getting backstories, their own Villain themed arc all the while being as human as anyone else.

As sad as their story is they were not "unlucky", they didn't need a happy false ending where they would need to change to be normal - they chose to live this way and they lived it to it's fullest.

[heartofroses112]

Our Own Choices First Draft — Fox and Bly confronting Cody

Bly and Fox shared one last, long look before Bly activated the panel. The doors slid open on near silent tracks. There, across the room, standing by the thick transparisteel window and gazing out into the ever-changing space outside of their ship, stood the Commander. Cody. His helmet was off, nowhere to be seen in the large room.

The way he held himself, arms clasped behind his back and stance strong, was so obviously Cody. Bly didn’t know how he had never seen it before. Well, he had seen it. He’d just thought it impossible. Fox had found reports, had heard it directly from the slimeball Emperor himself of Cody’s death. But here he was, standing before them, fighting alongside them and their brothers for fourteen long years without so much as a hint to his identity.

Bly and Fox made their way across the room, footsteps muffled but just loud enough as to give their movement away. Bly rubbed his arms, wishing for the warmth of his armor. Space was cold. But the plastoid was constricting. It wouldn’t allow him to drag Cody into the bone-crushing hug he had been yearning for since the dramatic asshole had whipped off his helmet and insulted Palpatine in so many colorful ways that he must have spent years coming up with them.

Bly stepped up to Cody’s left side, staring out into space along with him. Fox stopped on Cody’s right, and for several long moments, the three of them stood in silence.

Finally, Bly could not take anymore. “Why?” he said.

“There’re a dozen answers to that question. All depends on what you’re asking.”

Bly choked on a laugh. He’d forgotten how snarky Cody chose to be when it was just their batch. And Rex, but, well, he was practically a part of their batch at this point. He had been, at least. “You know exactly what I’m asking.”

“Then you know my answer.”

“Cody.” Fox cut in, sharp and straight to the point. Out of the corner of his eye, Bly watched the full-body shudder that wracked through Cody. Bly ignored the tight pang in his chest at the hidden motion. “We thought you were dead.”

“And so did I.”

Bly frowned. “We’ve been here for the past two years at least. That’s plenty of time when you could’ve told us. Hell, what about your own men from the 212th? They’ve been here since the beginning, and they’ve been mourning their commander this whole time.”

“Until I arrived on that planet and saw your faces, I was convinced you were both dead.” Cody still hadn’t looked at them. “After the Order went out… I looked for you. But Rex was killed when they turned on Tano. Wolffe was confirmed MIA almost immediately. Fox, you, you were always at the Chancellor’s side, I couldn’t risk that you would ever join me.”

His voice was flat and without any inflection. “So that left you, Bly. But a week later, all I found were reports that you ate your blaster.”

Fox sucked in a breath.

“And I thought about… I thought that maybe… I wondered if you made the only right choice left.” His whispered words should have died at their ears. Instead, they ricocheted around the cold, steel room. “Bly, you were the one I wanted to see most. Because you…” Cody sighed, eyes falling shut even as his head tilted backward. “You were the only one who could understand.”

“Understand what?” Bly thought he knew. There was really only one thing Cody could have meant by that. But how could Bly have never known before now?

Cody’s eyes opened, gaze locked on the rivets along the outer wall. “You loved your general. And I lov—” He cut himself off, tearing his eyes away to instead stare at the ground. “I love—” He tried again.

“Oh, Cody.” Bly’s heart was in his throat, breaking into pieces for the pain that was still so clearly etched across his brother’s face. There was a reason Cody wore his helmet more than the rest of them; he’d never been able to hide his true feelings when he was just so damn expressive. It’s how Wolffe had known if he had pushed Cody too far when they were still just cadets. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Rex told me to wait,” he said simply. “He thought it would be funny if you all saw me and… If you guessed. It wasn’t hard, apparently.” He loosed a breath from between his teeth. “Course, then the Order went out.”

“Cody, I’m so sorry.” Again, Cody shuddered at the sound of his name. Bly longed to drag his brother into his arms. But Cody wasn’t ready for that yet, not after so many years with no more contact than the mission required.

“It can’t be changed.”

“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” Fox murmured, stepping slightly closer to Cody. “And you’ve kept this inside for so long.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” Bly asked, suddenly so full of rage at the self-imposed exile his brother placed himself in. “We’ve been here for years now, Cody. And it’s not just us. What about everyone from the 212th? They’ve been mourning their commander, their brother for so long and you’ve just been here the whole kriffing time?”

“I will not expect you to understand my actions.”

“Damnit, Codes, we want to talk to you, not the karking Commander! We’ve been around him enough.” Fox glowered at the side of Cody’s head. But Cody still didn’t look at either of them.

“He’s all that’s left.” Cody’s voice was devoid of emotion. He returned to looking out the viewport, the light of distant stars reflecting on his face. “Cody died the day he shot down his General and felt no remorse.”

“It was the chips,” Fox tried.

“I was still the one to follow the Order. And then my brothers were dying around me, and my batchmates were gone, and there was no one left to understand how I felt, and there was so much riding on my fucking shoulders. So, you do not get to come in here and lecture me. There is nothing else I have wanted more than to look at my brothers without a karking helmet between us, to actually be with them and not just be the karking Commander!”

Cody’s chest heaved, his fists clenched tight against his thighs. Fox and Bly exchanged a look, the same expression of worry and hurt flashing between them. Cody turned and paced several steps away from them. “You have no idea,” he started, voice low and tightly controlled, “how hard it has been this past decade, to see you, my closest brothers, and not be able to lessen your grief, to not hold you close and feel safe.”

“No one is making you do this.” Bly felt as if he were pleading, begging a brother to step back, step off the ledge.

Cody sighed, eyes still squeezed shut. “I know. But… I don’t deserve… I can’t… How can I be happy, Bly, when I killed him? I love, I loved, I loved him, and he loved me too. How can I ever forgive myself when the last thought he probably ever had was of how the men he trusted with his life were now the ones taking it?”

Bly stared at his brother. He had so much pent-up… self-hatred. Disgust with himself. Loathing of his actions that had not been his own actions at all. There was a distinct prickling at the back of Bly’s eyes as he watched Cody desperately try to hold the pieces of himself together.

“Cody.” Fox took a step toward Cody.

Cody’s shoulders shook. “Stop,” he bit out.

“Cody,” Fox said again.

Cody turned his head away, eyes still shut. His scar, the scar that was oh so distinctive, the scar that marked him as Cody, the scar Bly had searched for in vain on every brother he met, caught the faint light from above. “Stop it.”

“Let yourself be you again, Cody,” Bly said, closing the distance between them. The pair of them were once more in reach of their lost brother. “Doing this… hiding yourself away in repentance, it’s only letting Palpatine win.”

Cody flinched, but still, he didn’t look at them.

Fox pushed on. “I didn’t know your General well. None of us did, there… there wasn’t time. But I know he fought for our individuality, our sense of self that so much of the Republic tried to wash away. You’ve always been Cody, our Cody. But you never seemed so much like yourself, so confident in who you were and what you fought for, than after you joined Kenobi.”

“He’s dead now,” Cody whispered with a tremble in his voice.

“So, carry on his legacy.” Bly searched his brother’s face, familiar lines that meant upset and anger and stress, tightness in his jaw that meant stubbornness and fear. “Cody, won’t you look at us?”

“The helmet’s gone, Cody,” Fox murmured. “Let us see you. Look at us, please.”

Perhaps it was the ‘please.’ Fox never said it before, not unless the world was ending, or a brother was dying. Slowly, so slowly, Cody turned his head, entire body still trembling. His eyes slid open, and then it seemed as if he couldn’t get enough, gaze flickering between Bly and Fox and never staying still for more than a moment.

“Won’t it be so much more powerful,” Fox said, “when Palpatine is brought down by Cody and Fox and Bly, not just the Commander and his nameless clones?”

“Kenobi and… and Aayla.” Bly stopped, suddenly unable to speak beyond the burning in his throat. He dragged in a breath and continued. “They loved us, Cody. They loved us for who we are. Don’t erase that. Live as Cody, and do it for him. Do it for us, for all the brothers you have rescued. Please, we… we need you. We need Cody far more than we have ever needed the Commander.”

Cody heaved a broken sob, teeth tight against the sound in an attempt to keep it inside. He looked at the wall again, hands clenched around the edges of his armor. Bly fell silent, just watching his brother. If Cody was to come back to them… it would have to be on his own terms. Cajoling and pushing had never worked to make Cody see sense. He always was too stubborn for his own good.

“The Commander is all I know anymore.”

Bly’s heart threatened to break in two. His vision grew blurry. He blinked, hard.

Fox looked similarly affected. But he swallowed. Then he raised his chin and stared Cody down. “If that’s true, if… if you don’t know how to be Cody anymore, then why did you reveal yourself to Palpatine? Why now, after so many years of hiding your face?”

Cody looked at Fox, brow furrowed. “He was threatening you,” Cody said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Fox froze in place. “He scares the shit out of you, Fox, and nothing does that. No one is allowed to do that.” Cody shrugged, eyes still dancing over Fox’s face. “I thought I’d give him a new target to hate.”

Fox still wasn’t moving. Cody sighed and looked away, fingers still digging into his armor. “I… I should go. There’s a lot to do, now that I’ve karked everything up and—”

“Cody,” Fox breathed. “Oh, Cody, Cody, Cody.” He reached out, hands shaking as he brushed the side of Cody’s plastoid-covered arms. Cody stiffened but did not move as Fox dragged him in, crushing him against his chest. Fox was still repeating Cody’s name, burying his face against Cody’s hair, hands tight around his back.

Cody gasped, eyes wide and body trembling like a leaf in a storm. He crumbled into Fox’s hold, pressing his face against Fox’s neck as they clung to each other. “Cody, Cody, my Cody,” Fox continued to whisper like a prayer.

Bly surged forward, sweeping both his brothers into his arms. Bly and Fox squeezed Cody between them, hard plastoid hampering them only slightly. Bly’s forehead rest against the back of Cody’s neck, and his skin felt hot and feverish, a sign of the long, long years without a touch of comfort and love.

Bly couldn’t hold back the tears that trickled down his cheeks, melting down Cody’s neck and into the blacks under his armor. Cody continued to tremble, hands clutching desperately at Fox even as he pressed back into Bly.

“We’re here, Cody. We’re here, we’re here,” Bly murmured. “We have you. Let go, Cody, we have you.”

And so, Cody let go, the grief and anger and hatred that had been building up for over a decade with no outlet finally pouring from him in devastating waves. Cody did not cry, of that Bly was sure. But he trembled and shook and shattered beneath their hands, dry sobs and broken apologies, apologies that Bly meant to return but just could not find the words.

Bly had failed Cody for years, had failed him the day Bly had faked his death and ran from the Empire. But he would not fail him any longer. Cody would never feel alone again, would never feel the same lack of choice and want. Bly would make sure of it. Fox would as well, and the remainder of the 212th, and the 501st, and every brother in between.

For the first time in many, many years, Bly thought of the Jedi, of his Jedi, with only solid resolve. I promise, Aayla. And General Kenobi, if you can hear me. I won’t let him down. I’ll keep him safe. And we’ll avenge you. Palpatine will suffer for all he’s done, to you and to Cody and to everyone else. But for now, Bly kept his batchmates close and held them as if nothing else in the galaxy mattered. Nothing else ever would.

pt 1 | pt 2

[awyeahitssam]

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. 

“You’re late.” 

Harry considered his response as he stepped farther into the room, head tipping up to take in the fifty some-odd witches and wizards that made up the Wizengamot. They were all watching him keenly, some with open derision and others with curiosity. His head pulsed faintly at the weight of the attention on him, their emotions eagerly battering his Occlumency shields. Harry worked to think through the sensation even as he reinforced his mental defences. He could already tell by the sweat beading on his back that this would be a trying experience. The fact that this section of the Ministry was deep enough to obstruct the weight of all other presences did not make up for the fact that he was in front of fifty people rather than the expected four to six. He hasn't practised for this, has had no means to. 

Fudge sat in the middle of the first row, and the smugness he and the witch to his right were emanating made it rather easy to pinpoint who had been responsible for the sudden change in the time of his trial. 

"Am I?" Harry asked, and the jolt of astonishment, annoyance and fury that swept through various members of the court almost had him gritting his teeth. Harry imagined that Fudge's anger and embarrassment would have been obvious to him even without his abilities. The man had turned faintly red at the question, face pinching. 

"You were sent notice of the change in time this morning," the Minister barked out. "It is not the Wizengamot's fault you are late. Now sit down."

Harry allowed his eyebrow to quirk, slow and incredulous. This version of Cornelius Fudge was far different from the one he had met two years ago.

“While I would hardly blame the Wizengamot as a whole, it sounds as if whoever is charged with correspondence is at fault. Per a standing law written in 1839, all changes in time and venue must be completed in excess of twenty four hours prior to a trial's start time. Said correspondence must have been confirmed as seen by the person or persons on trial and their representatives at least sixteen hours before the scheduled start time.”

“That is for an official trial,” the Minister returned, voice sharp despite the fluster and anxiety Harry could sense beneath it. 

“Apologies for my presumption, then,” Harry said dryly. “I assumed that any trial which our entire governance presided over would be considered official.”

“Besides which, there is no such specificity to that law,” A broad, square-jawed witch to the left of Fudge said, giving the Minister a quelling look. 

The Minister did not respond to the implied reprimand, instead puffing himself up a bit and saying, “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley, horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he stared down at a piece of parchment, quill poised to write. Unlike most everyone else in the room, his attention did not seem to find sole focus on Harry. Harry didn’t expend any effort to attempt to see how Percy felt about the entire situation, his focus drawn to an approaching presence. It was a whirlwind of concern, faint annoyance, and a dash of enjoyment. 

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” said Fudge in a ringing voice, emphasising the word hearing, and Percy began taking notes at once, “into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Fudge continued on, listing interrogators, and Harry’s attention was distracted from Fudge’s words, the approaching presence, and his Occlumency shields by a jolt of glee and greed. His gaze flickered up to meet the icy grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. The realisation dawns quickly that the Dursleys address was now a matter of public record. Harry had already decided he wouldn't go back, and this only provided more incentive. 

He hesitates around the thought of whether the Dursleys will be targeted. Whether he should warn somebody that they need to be moved. Whether he cares enough to, after so many years of their oppressive hatred.

Behind him, the door presses open. 

“—Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Dumbledore’s voice isn’t projected like Fudge’s, but there is no doubt that he is heard. The press of the Wizengamot’s emotions is momentarily overwhelming: annoyance, bemusement, fear, anger, respect, deference, joy… Harry’s own anger is hardly a blip amongst the cacophony. 

When he strides into Harry’s view Dumbledore's expression is serene, but Harry can feel his spiteful enjoyment at the reception his disruption has created. He looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his crooked nose. 

A few of the Wizengamot members muttered to one another, but most were quiet, eyes locked on Dumbledore. 

While Harry’s presence had invoked interest and curiosity, the reactions to Dumbledore were far more substantive. Perhaps it was that the Headmaster had interacted with all of these people personally, socially, and they knew him by more than reputation. They had personal feelings and opinions fully developed about Dumbledore, while Harry was still, largely, an unknown. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, thoroughly disconcerted and flustered by Dumbledore’s presence. “Dumbledore. Yes. You—er—got our—er—message that the time and—er—place of the hearing had been changed, then?” 

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

It was a lie, Harry recognized, and one the Headmaster took a good deal of amusement in stating. Some of Dumbledore’s lingering frustration seemed to melt the longer he watched Fudge, the genial cast to his face a farce. He took joy in Fudge being wrong-footed, and the longer he fumbled, the more Dumbledore’s contentment with the situation grew. 

“Yes—well—I suppose we’ll need another chair—I—Weasley, could you—?” 

“Not to worry, not to worry,” said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. 

Harry had never thought of Dumbledore as anything approaching petty before, and perhaps he typically was not, but there was no denying that he was fond of making Fudge feel foolish. Well, his name had been dragged through the Prophet by the Minister's word; Harry couldn’t be surprised by a grudge. Seemingly omniscient or not, Dumbledore was only human. 

The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down. 

“Yes,” said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. “Well, then. So. The charges. Yes.” He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, “The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy.”

“You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment. 

“Yes,” Harry agreed, not looking at Malfoy this time. 

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?” interrupted Fudge. Harry felt his vindictive pleasure at cutting him off—even with Dumbledore here, he was finding his footing—but as Harry failed to answer this question, his irritation rose to overtake it.

“You are expected to answer,” the witch to the left of Fudge said, raising a brow at him. She had been the same woman to defend the law he had parrotted. 

Harry lets his silence linger for a moment, feeling the anticipation of the Wizengamot build, before returning, “Will I be allowed to do so in full?” 

His voice is perfectly respectful, but Fudge’s outrage still blooms. Dumbledore, a glance away, feels of surprise-concern-suspicion, and it makes the hairs on Harry’s nape stand at attention. 

“Yes,” the woman gave the Minister yet another quelling look, “of course you will.” 

“Thank you. To your last question, Minister, I did receive an official warning three years ago. The warning was,” it took a moment for Harry to recall the right term, said by three other representatives in three other trials, but the momentary pause has the interesting effect of focusing attention on him all the more, “improperly dispersed. The magic that triggered it came from a visiting House Elf. Being the only known magical in Little Whinging and without the supervision of an adult witch or wizard, the charms used to enforce the Statute of Secrecy were triggered. If anybody would like to see a memory of the event in question, I would be more than happy to provide it, assuming there is a pensive available.”

“There is no pensive,” a man with dark hair and an austere demeanour said, then emphasised again, “This is no trial.” 

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked, eyebrows raising as he glanced tellingly down at the chair in which he sat, wrapped in chains. “Very well.”

“Either way, it is rather late to be blaming your troubled past on elf magic,” Fudge dismissed, and let out a short laugh, as if he expected others to join him in it. At his side, the woman still cloaked in shadows let out a titter. “A unique and unprecedented excuse, as, I suppose, we should have expected from a young man trying to squirm out of trouble.” 

It is Fudge’s tone, a mix of condescension and chiding, even as his emotions are anything but, that does it. Behind his Occlumency and building headache, Harry realises that he's angry. He is disgruntled, disgusted and dissatisfied. He had accessed the public records available, he had pulled transcripts from previous underage trials, and this—this is a farce. 

This is Fudge, afraid to believe that Lord Voldemort is alive and smearing Harry’s name because he can. Because Harry has nobody looking out for him, and he’s been fair game since nobody stepped in the first time Rita did it. Beside him, Dumbledore is perfectly silent.

Harry is a symbol, but he's also fifteen, and it's an odd thought that reeks of his Godfather. 

“You're fifteen, pup,” Sirius had insisted mere days ago, like it meant something, like it mattered. “You deserve the chance to be a boy without all of this added pressure.”

The glimmer in his eyes had been just as telling as the mingled pain-grief-exhaustion-despair. He was speaking from experience, Harry had thought, throat tight. It made Harry want to fight for his Godfather, for the boy that he once was. Where, then, was that impulse to fight for himself?

“You matter, Harry. What you want matters.”

Harry does not want to play their games, though he has already begun to. He does not want to use the information he's researched, as he sits in a chair with chains, and struggles through polite phrasings. He won't let his research go to waste, though. He knows something for once, and he'll use that knowledge. 

The look he levels to Fudge, then, is faux-concerned. “I understand you've had no reason to research this, Minister,” he says, voice kind in a way that is mockery and can not be called such, “but I take the threat of having my wand snapped very seriously. According to public records, the Statute of Secrecy charms have been proven defective in the exact scenario I've discussed once before, in the case of Richard Pike, who’s classmate had an elf deliver things on multiple occasions until he was brought between a five-panel jury to plead his case.”

“Mind you, the Ministry hadn't been running a campaign to discredit Richard Pike,” Harry added casually. The reaction from a simple remark didn't disappoint; Fudge spluttered, the woman beside him leaned out of the shadows, revealing an overwhelmingly pink ensemble, and someone burst out, “Now see here, young man—!” before being abruptly silenced. “He was fifteen, too, but he actually had adults willing to advocate on his behalf.”

Dumbledore’s concern is growing beside him, but Harry doesn't turn to meet the man's eyes, and Dumbledore does not speak out, despite Harry’s accusation.

Harry’s rage is bubbling at the back of his throat, and he wants to shout, but he had learned about the ineffectiveness of screaming his ire long ago. That lesson had only been reinforced after his outburst at Ron and Hermione, and he is more than willing to try something else now. 

He takes a moment to consider his approach, and then goes with something that feels natural, a release that will keep his shouts in check; Harry laughs.

“Something funny, Mr. Potter?” A cold voice comes. 

“Not really, Something is ridiculous, though, and I’m sure you’d all rather I laugh than deal with a moody teenager's temper tantrum.” He lets his smile go a little sharper, and feels the good his reminder does. There is a particularly keen sense of culpability from a woman he faintly recognizes from his research; Head of the Panel for Underaged Sourcery, Irena Covey. Is the guilt for allowing this to spiral so out of hand, into a room meant for criminal proceedings, or something else?

“I have before me the entire government of magical Britain, wasting their time at a hearing for underaged magic which is typically handled by an empaneled jury of four. We are in the bowels of the Ministry, in a room that has not been used for anything but trials of the most dangerous criminals, and yet this is not a trial, but a hearing to decide disciplinary methods, as if there is no doubt of my guilt and I must be punished.” 

“My ‘crime,’” he uses the air quotes readily, “is using the Patronus Charm to protect myself and my cousin from a dementor. My cousin, who knows about magic and does not count as a breach in the Statute. If you'd like to see the memory of the encounter, I give full permission to have it pulled from my head. If you'd like to give me veritaserum—well, I have no parent to consent to the use of a regulated substance, but that's never stopped anybody before. I’ll submit myself willingly to that as well. And if,” he smiles sharply, “you'd like to handle this especially quickly, and get back to your doubtlessly busy lives, I will swear upon my magic that I'm telling the truth. How's that?”

It’s nothing that can be compelled or asked for, not ever, but the offer is a powerful thing. Vows on your magic can be taken as irrefutable testimony, and are rarely given, as they rely on objective rather than subjective fact, a twist that always leaves one with the slightest chance of turning squib.

He feels the shift in the air, the reconsideration of biases, the sharpening curiosity.

“I find your tone disrespectful, boy,” says a man with the longest straw-coloured hair Harry has ever seen. It lies in neat curls, soft and touchable, but the man’s face is cold and his tone hard, and Harry can’t pinpoint his intention with so many other people in the room. 

“Perfectly understandable, sir. I find this entire theatrical display disrespectful. You are all very important and busy people, so I can understand that you are frustrated with having your time wasted. However I hope you'll forgive if my frustration outweighs your own, as I am being treated like a war criminal rather than an underaged child due to a bewildering grudge that our Minister seems to be harbouring.” 

“You want to snap my wand?” Harry asked the Minister if Magic, eyes blazing but posture relaxed, “Then you can be certain I will put up a fight.”

He let his eyes trail over the rest of his jury, the heady, odd feel of their captivated attention allowing his shoulders to relax into something looser and more confident.

“Magic is the only thing I have of my mother and father. So forgive this fifteen year old orphan for his sentimentality,” Harry bared his teeth, “but I plan on keeping it. Especially considering that I have broken no laws, and there are clear caveats in place that allow an underaged witch or wizard to use magic when in fear for their life.”

He let his gaze slide over the Wizengamot and paused to meet every set of eyes that were not looking away. His point has been well and truly made. Dumbledore is surprised by his outburst, or perhaps by its effectiveness, and faintly suspicious for some reason. 

“Strong words prove nothing,” a man larger than Harry’s uncle says when Harry’s gaze lands on him, and he doesn't believe Harry, but he is used to that. 

Harry thinks back to the books on magical vows he had studied during the tournament, and the book in the Black Library that he had read two days ago. He thinks of the vow that he had carefully drafted, under Sirius’ supervision. His godfather has emphasised the importance of his wording, so that there could be no mistake. 

“Harry, wait.” Dumbledore’s order comes curt and harsh, but Harry pays it no attention. He knows what has caught the Headmaster’s attention; the golden glow that had encapsulated Harry the moment he chose his words. It hazes around his form, and Harry looks down at his hand with interest and curiosity. 

There is a sudden murmuring from his audience as they catch on. 

“I, Harry James Potter, vow on my magic that on the night of August 2 I used a patronus charm to ward off dementors in Little Whinging, Surrey, in fear of losing my soul.”

The golden glow retreats. Several people gasp at the act, but it is no mere dramatics; the shock he feels pulsing through the room is genuine. He allowed the pause to linger for a moment before saying, “I would cast a spell to prove my claim, but this is a disciplinary hearing for underaged magic.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but before he could speak a worn voice sounded from the top tier of the gallery. “I vote an exception be made. Raise your wands if you are in agreement.” 

It was nearly unanimous, and Fudge’s expression was taut. His emotions were hard to pinpoint, though multiple people were radiating fear, stomach-churning and vile. Madame Bones glanced around the gallery, expectant. “Mr. Potter, if you would?”

Obediently, Harry drew his wand and murmured a spell under his breath. It was a rather cheeky choice, but Harry was a Gryffindor for a reason. His patronus burst into existence and lifted its head regally, sightless eyes fixed on the Wizengamot. After a moment it turned to Harry and met his gaze before bowing its head. Harry bowed his head back in respect, tension lessening as he felt the warmth and serenity his patronus gave to him, deeply soothing. It took a step forward and pressed its head to his chest, and Harry smiled. 

“Fantastic,” Madam Bones murmured. “Very impressive.”

She said it, but Harry could feel it radiating from all around the room; respect, wariness, keen interest. A couple of people even seemed amused by his gall, which, he supposed, was better than offended. Fear was regulated to an undertone in the room, pervasive but not overpowering.

Harry’s patronus raises its head, a huff ruffling his hair. He raised a hand to brush over its snout, feeling the warm, welcoming peace it emanated more than its fur.  It stares into his eyes for a long moment, grounding Harry, before lowering its head one last time and glimmering out of existence, purpose served. 

“Well then,” the shift in the room was abrupt. With two words the attention of the Wizengnot had been captured by a dark-haired woman, whose brown eyes were cataloguing Harry. The abrupt pull and shift of emotions might have been startling had his patronus not left him so balanced. “I might have agreed that all of our time was wasted on this day, Mr. Potter, if not for this exquisite demonstration of a mastered patronus. That it is tactile as well as spiritually corporeal is a rare and impressive feat, especially given your age.”

Beneath her intrigue and open interest, the turn of her emotions had an odd chill to them. Her fascination is detached and clinical. Her regard had the effect of sharpening the interest towards Harry all the more. Dumbledore’s emotions pulsed behind him, an odd mix of wary, vexed and rueful. 

“Perhaps, Lady Laurier, it would be most appropriate to turn our attention to how a dementor managed to make its way to Little Whinging in the first place.” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Bones clears her throat. “That is certainly a matter that needs attention. First, however, Mr. Potter’s verdict.”

“I believe that Mr. Potter’s vow constitutes irrefutable proof, and this tria—hearing should be closed.” Covey spoke up, her slip made all the more apparent by its correction. 

“So it shall be,” agreed Bones. “As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I accept into the record Harry Potter's magical vow. In combination with his subsequent proof of magic, this vow is considered irrefutable evidence. As such, all charges against the accused are dismissed with the Ministry's sincere apologies. I put forward my professional recommendation that future cases of underaged sorcery are dealt with by the bench traditionally empaneled.” She added pointedly. 

[hayaku14]

GUYS I'M BEGGING

SHINICHI ON A SKATEBOARD

PLEASE

[ell-arts]

Background teaser for the next chapter's artwork ;)

[ecoustsaintmein]

if i had time, i would have written a 100k fic based on this premise, after reading Weapon X Traction, and watching Safe House + Swordfish:

The Multiverse is decaying. Instead of getting the superior versions of Wade and Logan to restore order after Earth-616’s Wade and Logan failed to do so, Alteza Langunn ended up getting Wade and Logan from Earth-10005, post events of the film, to do the deed.

Except that they ended up getting separated in different universes – and Wade was stuck in Earth-40081, a world where superheroes and mutants don’t exist; Logan’s counterpart is a hacker called Stanley Gibson, and Wade is being mistaken for a fugitive ex-CIA agent named Matt Weston.

[rosenfey]

things that are hard to find: writing advice that isn't condescending.

[larkral]

Oh hello again! Twice in one week? I KNOW! Thanks for the tags @imagineacoolusername @orange-peony @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @mooncello

@run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire and @monbons !!! Such an active week. I love it! Excited to read the COBB stuff that's coming out, and VERY enticed by many snippets and arts being posted right now!

So, this week has been a lot, BUT I did some crafting AND I started writing my Firstprince Soulmate BS. It is now over a thousand words? I don't know. My brain works in mysterious ways. My crafting is making a lampshade. I don't know, because I am very particular about what I like? Steps one and two of about a thousand steps on the current project I'm working on, but that's more than zero!

I've also done some work on Simon's two mums this week, though not quite as much as the Firstprince soulmates. So. Have six sentences of each:

Finally (already, always):

At lunch, after I sit down, Baz sits opposite me. He grits his teeth.  "Thank you," he says. Then into his water glass, he mutters, "Sorry." "Yeah," is all I can get out.  Penny sits down and doesn't say anything about it.

First Prince Soulmates BS:

 "Sorry, I'm only used to dressing like this at fundraising galas for the British Ornithological Society." "Of course," Alex volleys back, "The natural habitat of duck jokes." She laughs again, the column of her neck elongating as her head tilts back in delight, and Alex wonders if there might be at least one upside to having to attend The Royal Wedding.  He wonders if there's any way he can ask her if she intends to continue studying the annual coloration changes in the Gadwall remicle as they relate to anatidae seasonal monogamy and whether she thinks there's really an evolutionary path by which that's related to the wrist banding mark in humans. You know, without revealing himself as both a soulmate freak and a duck sex freak. There definitely isn't.

I promise there's a good explanation for why I've made Alex someone who knows all about duck sex, even though it may never appear on screen.

Tags under the cut!

I don't know who to tag for firstprince other than the folks I've already tagged for first prince and @kiwiana-writes, so consider yourself tagged in if you're a firstprince Six Sentence Sunday person.

Also tagging my usual Simon Snow crew: @stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @raenestee @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission

@cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @basiltonbutliketheherb

@ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias

@petedavidsonscock @artsyunderstudy @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars

@nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ionlydrinkhotwater @that-disabled-princess

@shrekgogurt  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl​ @blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees

@j-nipper-95 @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @run-for-chamo-miles @talentpiper11

[mechazushi]

God, you're dense [Affectionate].

{a Kn8 short story}

Hoshina wasn't one to play games. Sure, he liked to have fun, but playing with people's emotions and perceptions wasn't something he could get into. He raised himself on the belief that being straight forward on something was the best course of action. If someone couldn't get on the same page as him, that was on them. He worked in a position where the best moves forward and anyone else that can't keep up with him were best left behind. Of course, much like most rules in life, there were exceptions to the rule. His biggest fault to everything he stood for was a tall, jolly, brute of a beast named Kafka. Kafka would be an exception to most everything he would die on a hill for. On the opposite end of the spectrum, however, was one person that he held to the highest accordance of his standards. His brother.

Hoshina made a point not to talk to his brother after he got accepted into the defense force. The restrictions on that got tighter after he got accepted as Mina's Vice Captain. Since before, he still showed up to family gatherings at the least to entertain his mother's concerns about his livelihood in the Third Division. Still, just because he didn't make attempts to contact his family, doesn't mean his family doesn't make attempts to contact him. It was always inevitable (because they don't tell him ahead of time) always with the supposed best of intentions (Because what quality road to hell isn't paved with them) and always at the most inconvenient times (an ability that seemed to be an inbred skill in every other family member). Between catching up on chores that should have been done yesterday, decaf in the communal coffee machine, and his third favorite pen breaking, Hoshina found he wasn't in the mood to talk. So obviously it was a perfect time to be visited by his least favorite person.

Walking down the hallway with a mountain of signed paperwork, his pace was intended to be brisk, but felt sluggish all the same. As he passed an intersection in hallways, he noticed the large frame of a burly friend catching up behind him. As Kafka slowed his pace to match his commander's, Hoshina tilted his face in his direction and flashed what was hoped to be a casual and respectful smile.

"Had a feeling you'd feel like that once I heard about the incident at the coffee machine. Here. Brought this for ya." Kafka said as he handed over a steaming mug of dark tan coffee.

"Oh, I already had coffee today." Hoshina tried to politely decline. he guessed his smile wasn't as bright as it should have been if Kafka could see he was feeling off.

"Yeah, but that was decaf." he insisted as he held the mug by its rim and pointed its handle temptingly toward its intended recipient.

Hoshina stiffed its steam heavily as it wafted under his nose. The smell of a caffeinated brew being much more rejuvenating than the bland swill he choked down this morning. He didn't think twice as he shifted the paper load more securely under his arm and took the offered mug greedily. There was a low, grateful moan as the hot, searing, and just lightly sweetened liquid burned pleasantly down the back of his throat.

'You might've just saved my mental state yet again, Kafka." Hoshina finally muttered after nearly downing half of the mug.

Kafka just chuckled as he walked in time with him, and after a while, held out a hand in an offer to carry the paperwork. Hoshina politely refused again, feeling genuinely better now that he had something more stimulating coursing throughout his system. Walking side by side, they engaged in pleasant idle chatter as they continued down the hallway. Without checking how far they had walked, they neared an area that had a lobby that was sparsely populated. As they got closer, an irritatingly familiar voice rang clear in the partially echoey room.

"Brother Dearest!" Soichiro Hoshina, Soshiro's older brother, was leaning against the desk in the back center of the lobby, relaxing like he deserved the space he was taking up.

"Oh God, why aren't I being delivered from evil like I ask every Shrine visit?" Soshiro muttered as soon as he realized who was occupying the open room with them.

"That's your brother?" Kafka asked as he laid eyes on the visitor.

"Unfortunately." Soshiro said with every letter somehow overflowing with distain and loudly enough to be heard by the other person.

"Come on, brother! You had to have known that one of these visits was to have to happen soon? It's been, what, months since you've even sent at minimum a hello to Mother." Soichino's words were playful, a clear difference in demeanor to the attitude his younger brother was radiating. A second had passed as he clearly gave the plus one an interested once-over after he lifted his sunglasses off his face.

"Well, hello soldier. And who might you be?" A salacious smile slithered coolly over Soichiro's glossy, thin lips. His tongue flicked out and over his teeth teasingly as he continued to stare down Kafka with a darkened sense of interest. Kafka bowed deeply in greeting before he introduced himself.

"Kafka Hibino. Officer of the Third Division." was his militantly clipped response.

"Kafka... Kafka... Where have I heard that name before?" Soichiro drawled out as he shifted over to Kafka's side, poking his shoulder with the arm of his sunglasses with playful emphases.

"He's our Kaiju Number Eight, you salacious cur. Now what are you doing here?" Soshiro snarked as he took another sip of his coffee. His brother made no move to acknowledge the comment as he continued to speak directly to Kafka.

"Kaiju Number Eight, huh! So you're the beast on the battlefield. Is it too much for me to ask if you're a beast anywhere else?" That Cheshire smile never left his face as his eyes turned into a more evaluating gaze.

"Well, I'm the Division's only on call Kaiju. It's pretty safe to say that I'm always the beast when it's needed." Kafka smiled bashfully as a hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Soichiro practically giggled as a hand came up to mischievously smack the other shoulder.

"Look at you! Making out to be something that strong and powerful as a humble brag!" the older brother seemed to slide in closer to Kafka's personal space, with Kafka playing it off as business as usual. Soshiro could feel the handle of the mug creaking under his tightened grip as he looked on at his brother's shameless display.

"Ya know, I had originally cleared out my schedule to take my brother out on a lunch date, but I've just realized he's been a horrible brother and hasn't shown me around the Third Division's main facilities not once!", Soichiro saddled up impossibly closer and even had the audacity to slip a hand around the back of Kafka's forearm, "Why don't I be a good Captain and help clear yours so you can show me around? I'm sure any tour by you would be far more interesting than what he could provide." Soshiro watched as he saw the offer being sealed with an obviously flirty wink.

"Well, I'd be happy to! That is, if it's alright with my Vice Captain?" Kafka asked as he looked innocently toward the younger brother, seemingly unaware or unaffected by the attention he was currently being given.

"No Kafka, that won't be necessary, If my brother is going to come out all this way to see me, then he's just going to have to settle for my company alone." Soshiro said as he placed his paperwork and his coffee mug on the abandoned reception desk.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe some other time?" Kafka asked as he looked at the older Hoshina brother.

"Such a shame. Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer." Soichiro tittered as he patted the other side of the forearm he was still holding onto. The two brothers watched intently as Kafka turned around and walked down the hallway. Soshiro waited until he was out of every possible hearing range before he decided to speak.

"Alright, you bottle-platinum harlot. What the hell was that display all about?" Soshiro made no attempts to restrain his irritation at his brother's expense. He had no idea what game his brother was trying to play with him, but he wouldn't stand for it since it seemed to involve a very close and personal friend of his.

"I don't know what you mean." Soichiro said as he kept tittering. His posture and demeanor revealing to his younger brother that there was a plan brewing behind those evil eyes.

"I will not have you seducing my strongest man over to your division while I'm here." Soshiro commanded as he leveled a piercing gaze at the other person.

"Excuse me, 'Your man'? I'm sorry, but I didn't see a ring on his finger." Soichiro teased as he turned to face his brother.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, you vile rake." Soshiro spat the words out in an attempt to dissuade any further conversation on the topic.

"So catty today, are we brother? I was simply taking in the local selection. I'm not surprised you're interested in him." Soichiro chatted as he teasingly bit on the arm of his sunglasses.

"I also see you've decided to take up slander as a hobby since last we met." Soshiro grumbled as he found himself forced into a position where he had to talk to his brother in person for more than a minute.

"Oh, please! You know our family has a history of liking them sweet and dumb. How do you think Mother's marriage has lasted this long?" Soichiro continued as he leveled a knowing stare at him.

"If you're going to keep insinuating things that don't exist, I'm going to order you to cancel the lunch date and leave." the younger brother retorted as he turned around to drink the last sips from the coffee mug.

"What do you think I'm insinuating?" Soichiro purred as his sight never left his brother.

"Don't toy with me today, you troglodytic trollup. I am in no mood to bat around this string of yarn you're trying to spin here." Soshina kept snapping back as he took the opportunity to avoid eye contact as he shuffled around the stack of papers.

"Why all the denial, Brother Dearest? Especially since we're so far from Egypt. Besides, it's not slander saying you like a coworker as if your interactions weren't displayed all over the news two weeks ago." The grin broke into a full blown, toothy smile of superiority as the Captain of the Sixth Division draped himself over the desk's top next to Soshiro.

"What... interactions?" the Vice Captain hissed as he slowly turned his head to side-eye his brother

"Should I reenact it for you?" Soichiro giggled before flopping onto his back and dramatically fainting, "Oh! I seem to have taken a terrible fall and broken both of my legs! Oh, is there some dark, handsome, Knight in living armour that can princess-carry my oh so fragile body to the farthest fucking ambulance on scene and completely bypass three others that were unoccupied and were going to take me to the same fucking hospital!" It was clear that he was taking a massive amount of joy retelling his version of events that he saw on the news as his voice raised in volume with every reveal.

"I didn't break my legs, I dislocated my ankles! What would you have me do, walk?" Soshiro started to match his brother's volume and had now fully turned to him to confront this problem of point-of-views head on.

"The cameras clearly show you two having a conversation where it shows you convincing him to carry you!" The two of them were so close to each other's faces now their noses could touch.

"I was trying to convince him not to!" Soshiro returned.

"Because the cameras were rolling?" Soichiro asked.

"Yes!" his brother answered.

"AND BECAUSE YOU TWO ARE IN LOVE! Why else be camera shy about being carried around in public?" The eldest returned triumphantly as he poked him in the chest.

"NO." Soshiro shouted back as he shoved his brother backwards, "We are not in love! What part of this do you think it's okay to date someone like him?"

"Oh don't act like you can't because he's under your position. He makes his own precedent as he breathes! And you are the right type of rebellious, attention craving, delinquent punk that would absolutely fall for someone that is perfect for you in all the right ways, while also him being a human anomaly in every sense of the word! He turns into something our family has been training it's young to kill for centuries so of course you're going to deviate from the norm and be practically head over heels for him!" The Captain couldn't stop himself from cackling as his lungs quaked from talking for so long without breath.

There wasn't anything left on the matter that Soshiro could say to make his brother change his mind, so he decided to let his fists do the talking for him as he sent a vicious right hook. His fist connected to his brother's left eye and caught him off guard for a second. Before he could speak out against the assault, the younger brother wasted no time in jumping onto his brother and throwing his fists left and right. The two soon became a mass of tangled limbs and colorful curse words on the floor. It wasn't like this for long as two other people came across the fight and helped break up the fray.

"Alright, alright! Break it UP!" You two are grown up men, and Defense Force officers at that! ACT LIKE IT!" Okonogi reprimanded them as Aoi held them off the ground by their jacket collars.

"Yes, Okonogi." The brothers said in unison. As they were set back on the ground, they straightened their outfits and waited to see if their new company would leave. When they didn't, Soichiro decided to speak what was left on his mind anyway.

"The lunch date is still on, by the way. Mother's orders. How about I give us an hour to cool down and we try this whole 'conversation' thing again?" he tried to say with as much possible conviction in his smile. Soshiro just glared violently as he picked up the stack of papers from the desk.

"I do what I damn well please, you leporid bunk bunny." he said as he stormed off. Everyone watched as he walked away before his older brother spoke up again.

"He'll be fine."

 𓈒   𑁍 𓈒

It was a little after seven thirty before Hoshina felt fine enough to interact with anyone. Spending some time in the gym helped him feel better after dealing with the Lunch Date From Hell. It also helped that he got to meet his favorite punching bag for sparring.

"Look -huff- I get you -huff- don't like your brother -huff-, but did you really -huff- need to literally -huff- kick my ass?" Kafka's lungs heaved after spending what felt like hours defending himself from his Vice Captain's volley of blows.

"Ya snooze, ya loose Kafka. Intense training is for your own good." Hoshina quipped back as he walked over to his duffle for water bottles. Kafka shambled behind him slowly and sat down on the bench the bag was next to.

"Intense training, my entire bruised ass. That last chokehold felt personal." Kafka began to regulate his breathing by the time Hoshina made it over with the water bottles.

As Hoshina drank from his, he subtly tried to look at Kafka as he poured some of the bottle's contents onto himself. He watched as the water made his partner's bangs stick to his forehead at odd angles and made a swift attempt to cool his fiery red cheeks. Hoshina didn't let his imagination run too far away from him as he thought about Kafka looking worn out and sweaty for a different reason. Of course he denied everything that was said earlier that was concerning the situation between him and Kafka. Mainly because it all implied that Kafka felt the same way he did. Had it been a complete stranger talking to him this morning, it would have shocked everyone that knew him once they heard how different his answers would have been.

As Kafka finished rubbing the cool water into his face and straightened his back and arms out into an intense looking stretch, Hoshina forced himself to look away from the rippling of muscle and the straining of his tank top around said muscles. In moments like this, when he was sure no one would be looking or they were alone, Hoshina liked to play a little game with Kafka. It wasn't one that you could win with points or anything. Hell, some days it made Hoshina feel like all he did was lose by playing, but he couldn't deny that conniving little twitch that begged for him to play over and over again. All so he could see that dumb little smile.

"Still improving as slow as always." Hoshina said after a minute of relaxing on the bench.

"Hey, at least I am still improving, right?" Kafka returned as he looked back at his Vice Captain.

There was a smile, sure, but it wan't big. He could do better.

"Can't say I don't find you to be consistent at least 1% of the time." Hoshina offered as a response, deciding to bring up a well used joke between them. He turned back to look out at the empty gym in front of them.

"God, I still haven't gotten higher than that, haven't I?" Kafka chuckled out of the side of his mouth.

"It was a good thing we found out you were a kaiju when we did. Could you imagine what would have happened if you couldn't raise that percentage up high enough in three months?" Hoshina thought the comment sounded funnier in his head, but once he heard it out loud he wanted to smack himself for it. Everyone knew that it was a horrible thought, thinking about Kafka not being around anymore. Even that was something Hoshina couldn't bring himself to deny or joke about.

"I do every day." Kafka sighed heavily, "Everyday I wake up here." He closed his eyes for a second as he smiled softly, his head coming to rest against the back wall the bench was against.

Hoshina turned back to look at him, taking Kafka's moment of vulnerability to look at him fully this time. He thought about it too. A life in the Defense Force where he didn't get to see Kafka everyday. A life where he didn't bring him coffee or hear his laugh or have drinks with him after work hours. Hoshina could feel his heart squeeze at the thought of Kafka not being in the Defense Force, or worse, suddenly living at a different Division. Being close by technicality, but feeling oh so very far.

"Did you notice my brother was flirting with you at all?" Hoshina felt himself ask before he could take the words back. He felt himself brace for the answer in the brief moments in between his heartbeats.

"Wait... really?" Kafka asked with genuine interest. Hoshina could feel his face twist into something between curiosity and mild disgust. Kafka couldn't tell he was being flirted with? And was okay with it coming from his brother?

"Ye-yeah?" Hoshina returned hesitantly.

"You sure? 'Cuz I mean... wow. He's... actually interested? In me?" Kafka's smile grew bigger and more wonky as he processed what he was told.

"You're okay with this?" Hoshina questioned incredulously. He could not believe what he was seeing, and was actively praying that this wasn't the case.

"Are you kidding? Of course! You're brother is frickin' hot!" Kafka replied with joy, "Is he, like, still around? I mean, I know he's not here kinda around, but I mean, is he like, nearby? Like in a hotel or something? Nah, that would be creepy. Oh! Could you let me have his number?" Kafka prattled on as Hoshina continued to become more and more disgusted. Sure, he was a little happy to hear that Kafka was cool with being hit on by guys, (and clearly reciprocated the sentiment) but felt absolutely horrified at hearing Kafka wanting his brother's number. So much so that he immediately stood on the bench seat so he could get a good enough vantage to stomp on Kafka to stop his train of thought.

"You! Will! NOT! Be! Dating! My! BROTHER!" Hoshina shouted out between the stomping.

"Jesus! And here I thought you wouldn't be having a problem with me liking guys! Yah know, since you told me about it!" Kafka shouted back as he tried to defend himself from the onslaught.

"I don't have a problem with you dating guys! I have a problem with you dating my brother!" Hoshina said as he pressed his foot down firmly onto Kafka's hands that were protecting his head.

'Well then, who would you rather have me date?" Kafka returned rhetorically.

"Me for starters!" Hoshina finally admitted. Once he did, he let the pressure off of his foot and just stayed in the position for a hot minute, feeling as awkward as a school girl admitting to her first crush. Kafka just held onto the foot as he looked up at his commander with wide, unbelieving eyes. All Hoshina could bring himself to do was look away, his cheeks flushing hot and bright. Kafka helped lower the foot down as he got up from his seat to face him from the front.

"Have... have you been flirting with me too?" Kafka asked. Hoshina still couldn't look at him or answer, so his cheeks answered for him.

"How long have you been flirting with me?" Kafka asked again.

"Two... two years." Hoshina answered quietly.

"We've known each other for two years." Kafka responded. Hoshina still hadn't made a move, only crossed his arms defensively.

"YOU'VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME SINCE WE MET?" Kafka shouted as he made the realization.

"To be fair, I don't flirt like a normal person and you clearly can't read context clues." Hoshina said as he finally regained some control over his mouth. He just wished he had better control over what it said.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Kafka sounded incredulous at the thought of how he could have been dating the most amazing person on base before now, had be been able to read between the lines.

" I kept thinking it was funny?" Hoshina responded in a shy, quivering voice as more blood rushed to his face and made it redder.

"Okay, now I have to ask. What about me do you like? Do you think I'm handsome, or do you really just like to think I'm funny?" Kafka questioned as he waved his hands around animatedly.

"Honestly? I just really like that you're funny." Hoshina said as he relaxed and playfully shrugged. Now feeling better about having all of this out in the open.

" So, just, fuck my face then." Kafka said in a sarcastically irritated manner while turning around and waving his arms.

"I would if you'd stop talking." Hoshina accidentally let slip.

He wasn't ashamed of saying it, but probably should have found a better time to say it. It didn't seem to matter anyway as Kafka took a second to stop his flailing and slowly turned around to face his commander again. A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes darkened at the play on words they stumbled into.

"Well alright then." Kafka chuckled darkly as he strode over to where Hoshina was still standing. He grabbed his legs and threw him over his shoulder, holding onto Hoshina's calves for dear life as he carried his thrashing lover out of the gym.

"Wha-what do you think you're doing?" Hoshina cried as he tried to look back at his kidnapper. Kafka returned the most intensely flirtatious side-eye back at him as they walked out of the gym.

"Moving training to your place, so you can properly shut me up."

"Wha-what, no dinner first?" Hoshina stuttered nervously as he continued to be paraded down the hall on Kafka's shoulder. He got even more nervous as Okonogi slid past his line of sight and watched them walk away.

"You've been flirting with me for two years. Dinner can wait." Kafka growled as the other hand came up and audibly smacked Hoshina on the ass.

[ichorblossoms]

reminders for myself every time i open up the honeybee writing document

[nicoathogwarts]

(Prev)

Nico had to stay in the hospital wing for several days until he was nearly solid. When he blinked awake everything was far too bright, if it weren't for the silence he would've assumed he was back in the infirmary with Will hovering nearby to make sure his vitals were normal.

Some people had left cards and small gifts for when he got better. A surprisingly nice gesture, maybe it meant that he wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. The gods weren't that kind, he'd just lie and let Dumbledore make his own assumptions.

Once he was fully solid and able to walk up to the Headmasters office he did, guided by Snape who seemed even more displeased then usual. If he hadn't been around for a while Nico would've suspected he were a monster in disguise. Maybe he was playing the long game. "Lemon Sherbert." As the eagle twisted to expose a spiral staircase Snape gave Nico one last sneer. "If Dumbledor had any sense you'd be expelled with the rest of Potter and his friends. Fortunately you were not part of his antics, simply an unfortunate side effect of his little escape. Him and his friends sent you to the hospital wing after being hit with multiple unknown hexes and curses."

Nico nodded and went up. He'd figure out what all of that was about later. He sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Professor."

"Mr. di Angelo it's good to see you well again, you gave Madame Pomfrey quite the scare. I don't believe she's seen anything quite like it before." He chuckled to himself. "It was very noble to go against your house and aid Harry, who knows what may have happened if you hadn't been there to apparate everyone to safety."

"Yeah, I mean I wasn't really thinking about when it, it just happened. What happened after I passed out? No one's told me anything other then to see you."

"Harry went after Voldemort with some of the Order members while Sirius Black stayed with you and the rest of your friends until help could come. Minister Fudge saw Voldemort alive for himself and it has been confirmed that he has returned. Unfortunately, he and his followers fled the Ministry soon after."

Nico nodded along "And everyone else is ok? No casualties?"

"Everyone else is fine. Now off you go, I hear your housemates have been very worried about you."

Nico made his way down to the Slytherin common room where he immediately took one of the nice armchairs stationed in front of the fireplace. When the bell rang signaling the end of class he hardly had time to breathe before his housemates were surrounding him and demanding answers.

After many "I don't remember who hexed me with what" and "I don't know why they did it" they finally backed off. It took another twenty minutes to make them agree not to get revenge in his behalf, if only because he swore to do it himself.

"Hey."

Ginny jumped and looked around the empty common room. "How'd you get in?"

Nico stepped out of the shadows. "I waited until I overheard someone say the password. But that's not why I'm here, I can't be seen with anyone outside of Slytherin. My standing isn't that great as it is, and it'd be a lot worse if people knew I'd gone with you to the ministry."

"I get it. Do you know what happened after you apparated?"

Nico shrugged "nope. I'm going to go before I'm missed. If you see any coins laying around don't touch them."

[greenerteacups]

Thanks for your answer about Remus & Tonks!

I read both posts attentively, and yeah, I agree with pretty much everything. That plot point always baffled me, I always wondered why JKR went there. Was it a way to thwart the fandom, which was already start to annoy her at the time? IDK. I'm not judging the relationship (in Canon), I'm neither pro nor con, it's just that it always mystified me. But I like your take about Tonks being a v. realistic 23 y-o, a lot!

Anyway, thanks again for taking the time to answer. Have a lovely day! :3

Of course! You have a lovely one, too.

If we're talking about Doylist interpretations of the story — i.e. why the Author as a person whose to do something, as opposed to what's going on purely inside the text — I don't have the history to remember if Wolfstar was big enough at the time for JKR to notice or want to respond to it. Sirius dies in Book 5, which seems like enough to sink the ship in any case. My theory is that she decided during the outlining process of Book 5 that she wanted the series to end with Harry being the guardian of a child whose situation paralleled his — a war orphan whose parents were killed fighting Voldemort — to demonstrate that the story had come full-circle.

At that point, I think she looked at the characters she'd sketched out for Book 5 and decided Lupin would be the best candidate, since he would be the only person likely to name a seventeen-year-old Harry as godfather (my read of that scene is Lupin's deep in the textbook Marauder project-my-relationship-with-James-onto-Harry coping mechanism, which is why he's so shocked when the Literal Neglected Child rips him a new one for attempting to neglect his newborn child). At that point, Rowling needs to find Lupin a wife, and Tonks is one of the few female characters who's (a) unattached and (b) potentially of the age to be considering marriage and children. So she spends the next two books setting up the marriage, childbirth, and eventual martyrdom at the Battle of Hogwarts.

Like you, I don't take this as a point in favor or against their relationship; I think that most dynamics can be interesting if done well, and there was a lot to explore in Tonks and Remus. But the later books got really fucking crowded, and you see the toll in plot lines like this, where the scenes they have together just aren't enough to establish two people who are falling in love.