#Fellow I added because I think he's the one person Silver could fall for that Lilia would actively disapprove of

[violetlunette]

hi !! I have a small question about the fic your planning on doing (Can You Feel the Love?) Is the person silver falls in love with yuu? or some oc?

Hm, I was thinking Idia as I think they'd be a cute couple. Also, Yuu's are very personal to people so I'm not sure anyone would enjoy a Silyuu fic unless it was a one shot.

But what the hey; since I let ya vote on the story, I'll let you vote on the ship as well.

These are the options I feel are best for the story's plot as a major focus is that DiaFam is worried that if Silver falls in love, he'll leave them to be with his lover and none of them are happy about that. At the same time Silver is conflicted on what to do as he's never been in love before. For the first time he feels torn in two different directions. (This is partly why Sebek isn't an option as it wouldn't fit the scenario and the drama would only affect the two of them.)

The rest of the conflict will depend on the Love Interest.

[ryescapades]

can i request Narumi x reader but the reader is similar to Dazai(not really but i forgot who else that i could make an example of) ? Very silly and people underastimate them because of that but when the situation calls for it they're scary as hell.

Maybe Narumi underastimate them at first, and then he saw how scary they actually are but instead of going 100% scared he's like "thats kinda hot"

Maybe the reader is a captain/vice-captain of another division or a platoon leader. Also, make the personality EXTRA silly(the reader is doing it on purpose) like airhead, silly, and very naive (the reader is faking it and people actually fell for that act)

caprice | narumi gen

— three times narumi noticed you during the joint training session between the first and third divisions, slowly getting to know you from afar and the one time he inadvertently decided to fall for you (literally).

genre/warning: gn platoon leader dazai!reader, fluff, inaccurate use of scientific conditions and processes, idk if reader is silly enough here... i tried my best ok TT

a/n: uh another long fic haha thank you for the request!! dazai is actually one of my top kinnies but i'm not sure if this is even good, anon i'm rly sorry if it's not up to your standards 🥲 also here's the menace :3

3.4k wc hoshina | extra

the first time narumi gen met you, a member he'd assumed was from the third division, the only thing that was on his mind was what the fuck?

no, literally.

because what the fuck were you doing being hung upside down in the first division's gym room, discussing about god knows what with his platoon leaders?

"wait, wait, i think i'm finally feeling it!" you squealed, arms expanding to the side to distance the others from your hanging body. "whoa! is it working, is it working?" tachibana inquires excitedly beside an entertained-looking shinonome. "are you really sure this method is even legit?" the latter added, amusement clear in her eyes.

"what the hell are you guys doing?" narumi couldn't help himself from intervening the scene, for the sheer incredulity had taken over him before he even had the time to think it over. the three of you turned to face him in surprise.

his own subordinates straightened up to give him a salute, while it took you a few minutes before you did too. "ara, if it isn't captain narumi himself," you mused. narumi only raised an eyebrow, not shocked in the slightest that you knew him as he waited for a reply to his earlier question. at that, your expression enlightened.

"oh, right! your platoon leaders here were meditating earlier and tachibana-san almost dozed off... so i suggested a method to feel less sleepy. being hung like this makes you feel the blood rushes to your head, you know? it's such an exhilarating feeling for real," you claimed, resulting in the captain to gaze at you questioningly as your thumb and pointer fingers perched below your chin almost proudly.

narumi blinked, thinking about how... odd this person— you— was. is the third division only consisted of weirdos? must be some random low-class officer meeting those two on accident, he thought, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

it was not long after that when the first division's captain saw you again, this time in the mess hall where you were sitting with some familiar faces from the third division, which only reinforced his theory that you were indeed from the third.

"reno, have you watched the new movie i talked about before?" furuhashi asked, swallowing his food before looking at his fellow officer. "oh, the one with that famous actor from russia? no, i haven't. isn't that movie adult-rated though?" the silver-haired prodigy asked.

"whaaat? why are you children watching movies about people who play hide the salami, huh!?" kafka scolded, causing furuhashi to counter back, "who the heck even says 'hide the salami' these days, old man?!" by then you just arrived with your tray of food, hearing only one-fourth of the sentence when you took a seat beside the older man.

"oohh, are we pranking someone?" you butt in eagerly, joining in the conversation. the other three snapped their heads towards you in confusion. "prank? who said anything about a prank?" reno asked, head tilting to the side.

you smiled, blinking owlishly at his question. "hide the salami? why are we hiding food if not for a prank...?" your eyes bounced between the three men who were sharing awkward glances with each other.

narumi, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, nearly grimaced. so you're odd and... kind of an airhead, in a way. his brain concluded, simply observing when you abruptly pointed your finger at something far to the right, "captain ashiro, look! there's a cute cat over there!!" when ashiro snapped her head so fast, she realized a bit too late to catch your sneaky hand stealing a piece of food from her tray.

"hey, eat your own food!" kafka reprimanded as you happily nibbled on the stolen treasure but ashiro only waved it off, muttering about how she's gotten used to your antics by now, secretly fond of how your delighted expression itself comically resembled a feline creature.

"what are you staring at, baka shisho?" kikoru's jeer interrupted narumi's daze, causing his back to tense. "nothing. can't you go a day without being an annoying pest?" he sneers, which the girl only laughed mockingly at, though surprisingly she didn't notice that the captain was still snooping in to hear the conversation at your table, listening to the many obnoxious and bizarre (yet interestingly smart, he'd begrudgingly admit) ways you'd recommended to prank someone.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the third time narumi saw you, it was during a joint sparring session between his and the third division. he was initially supposed to be overseeing kikoru and her new numbers weapon suit but the commotion at the central area of the training venue had snatched his, and the other officers' interest instead.

it was you, preparing to spar with hoshina, his nemesis. in hand-to-hand combat, no less. not to add the two of you were going to use real swords, not the dummy ones.

"are they serious? why would they match up against hoshina?" "i know right... they're gonna lose for sure," "yikes, i'm sending early condolences to them right now,"

narumi had to agree with what he heard his division members were whispering about. sure, he sometimes thinks hoshina's skill level is below his own, but to spar with a regular officer? the swordsman is gonna pummel you straight to the ground, no doubt!

however, his chain of thought was eventually cut off when he later noticed that you were holding on your own, superbly at that. with every hit of hoshina's blade, you'd parried with your own and every small opening hoshina had unknowingly exposed, you had taken the advantage by striking just as hard.

the rapid sounds of metal clanging against each other were loud, echoing even. it was plainly and clearly visible to him that you're not just an officer.

narumi called for his disciple, "oi. who's that training with your vice-captain?" he asked, head nodding towards where you and hoshina were still exchanging blows. kikoru glanced at the direction he mentioned before she grinned wide and cheshire-like.

"oh, them. that's one of our newly appointed platoon leaders, y/n-san! such a spectacle to behold, i know! they're from the third, after all!" she boasted. a platoon leader? y/n, huh... narumi could finally put a name to that pretty face.

wait, what? who the hell said that?

the bicolor-haired man shook his head a bit before focusing back at the fight. "what are you gloating for, dumbass. it's not like—" his sentence died midway when suddenly a particular hard swing from hoshina had struck you straight in the face, causing you to stagger backward as your block was seen a little too late to cover the blow.

the atmosphere suddenly became silent and still, narumi's eyes widening in surprise at the same time as hoshina's in guilt when everyone noticed the few drops of blood through your fingers. "shit, sorry! i didn't mean to hit ya that hard! you okay there?"

narumi instinctively took a step towards your direction when your figure started swaying, his eyes unconsciously glaring at the violet-haired man as the latter reached out his palm so that you could show him the bruise but when you gave no reply, eyes downcast and body rigid, hoshina cursed under his breath. "fuck, y/n. i'm so sorry—"

"boo!"

the unexpected sight of your mischievous, uninjured face and only a faintly sliced skin on your palm greeted the crowd. an annoyed mark appeared at the side of hoshina's head. "you cheeky lil' brat! ya had me so worried there!" he scolded, his hands pulling on your cheeks so hard your eyes watered as you whined, "but it was hilarious watching you— ow, ow, vice-captain! that hurts!"

the others seemed to relax, and a few hushed murmurs entered narumi's ears.

"the heck? what a fluke." "right? there's no way they held off for that long. the vice-captain must have gone easy on them."

on the sidelines, narumi's mouth gaped open and then closed like a fish. was that actually a fluke, or are you actually...? he was slightly bewildered, not knowing whether to acknowledge the fact that you are, in fact, such a whimsical and unserious person he almost found it quite endearing (he didn’t bother acknowledging that thought), or that it was unnoticeable by almost everyone else, but he could see the scratches on hoshina's hands and face, the nicks his RT-0001 eyes had detected were done by your sword.

they were indistinct, hardly noticeable, and barely bleeding that it just proved how careful you were in handling your blade. what's more jarring, however, was that his kaiju eyes couldn't miss the deadly and almost murderous look in your eyes when you were exchanging blows with hoshina earlier.

narumi couldn't help but to smirk menacingly as he ran a hand through his locks, feeling enraptured by the sudden realization.

so it's not just hoshina he has to beat. there's you now.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

it was another random tuesday night when the emergency kaiju alarm blared, signalling the entire headquarter of the incoming kaiju attack. in the meeting room together with the captains and other platoon leaders from the third and first divisions, you were briefly discussing strategies and plans for the neutralization process.

"so it's settled, then. two platoon leaders from each division in one sector. make sure to remember where your group is assigned and keep track of any yoju going in and out of your sector before alerting the other platoons of it. this one might get messy," ashiro summarised before everyone briskly moved out, preparing to head to the kaiju location.

narumi, who had been halfheartedly listening to the whole briefing in boredom, pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and headed towards the door, before noticing a lone figure standing by the desk in the middle of the room.

you were staring hard at the splayed out map in front you, hands shoved in your pockets and head tilted to the side in what narumi assumed to be deliberation. what else is there to think about when ashiro already summed up everything? the man thought before he shrugged, leaving you alone in the meeting room.

the mission was supposed to be simple. tedious, sure, but easy enough for the two divisions to handle. take down the honju, then finish off the remaining clusters of its accompanying yoju— it was said they'd go berserk when triggered by the death of the mother— that were scattered throughout the district.

well, until it's not so easy anymore.

once ashiro had shot down the honju using the explosive power of her cannon, all the yoju had indeed, gone ballistic. the battlefield was messy with all the kaiju corpses and rubbles from destroyed buildings.

appointed as one of the main firepower on land, narumi's earpiece dinged, and the voice of one of the operations officer filled his ears. "captain narumi! sector d requested for backup just a few minutes ago but we've recently lost contact with them!"

confusion took over the captain's expression. backup? these lots of yoju barely have a 4.0 fortitude, did a new high-leveled kaiju appear? oh well, another material to be used in increasing my kill count and popularity if that's the case. his mind pondered as he stepped off the dead body of the kaiju he'd just taken down, his bayonet slung over a shoulder.

"aite, on it," straight away on the move, he considered the possibilities of a bigger threat popping up, like another one of no 9's creation, for instance. narumi's expression darkened at the thought.

however, when he arrived at the site, there was no commotion at all. it was rather quiet. he would've thought that no battle had happened here, if not for the concrete debris and kaiju remains laying around. he decided to look around and survey the area, just in case the information he received was just a small miscalculation.

it was not until he realized he had walked for too long that he froze. sector d wasn't supposed to cover this much space, so why were there so many corpses outside of the neutralization area? narumi tried connecting his earpiece, only for it to let out a series of crackles. this is where they lost connection, huh? he thought.

a sudden movement to his left had him going stiff before he swiftly and sharply spun, bayonet ready in his hand. irritation took over his expression when he saw that it's just an officer. "hey, i almost took your head! be more mindful next time, will you?" he chastised, causing the officer to bow profusely, cowering away from his large weapon. "i apologise, captain narumi! i was just wondering what are you doing here... the neutralization is already finished in this part of the sector."

"haah?? operations said you guys needed backup. what's up with that?" he complained, glaring at the officer who he assumed was from the third division since he wasn't a familar face to narumi at all. "oh, that's already been dealt with! platoon leader y/n had it all planned out!" narumi halted at that, now intrigued so he told the officer to fill him in on what happened prior to the mission.

---

"psst, you two! come here for a sec," the men in question, toma and ryu turned when they had heard you calling for them a few feet away from the mixed group of first and third divisions soldiers in sector d. "yes! what is it, platoon leader?"

"mind helping me out for a bit?" as they immediately nodded their heads, you straight promptly explained what you wanted them to do. "so we just need to be on the lookout with you at the communication towers outside the sector?"

"ding, ding! that's correct! if you see a kaiju coming your way, just lure it back to your original post where everybody else is. i'll be staying back to tweak out some electricals at the radio masts." you stated.

with the yoju having a bat-like behavior, you'd theorized that they would use ultrasonic echolocation to create a radio wave disturbance that could badly affect the earpieces you're using. despite how low the kaiju's fortitude is, it's immense intellect make up for most of that small number.

that's why the yoju would've probably target the region with the densest wave energy, which is the telecommunication towers. with its echolocation and your communication devices pulsing simultaneously, they would interfere with each other and cause an overlap of frequencies. hence, communication lost between officers would highly likely happen.

"that's fine and all, but y/n-san... if the kaiju really is how you speculate it, what if there's a lot of them coming at once?" toma asked worriedly. "you'll die, of course." you simply answered, making the officers screech in horror, "WHAT??!!"

letting out a chuckle, you waved a hand in dismissal. "don't worry. if there are many of them appearing, just leave them be and return to your post,"

toma and ryu exchanged a look. "but then we'd be leaving you alone, y/n-san!" the latter wailed. at that, you hummed thoughtfully, "hm... i'll be the one dying then," you said matter of factly.

"Y/N-SAN!!!"

"how about we do rock-paper-scissors to decide who's fixing the comms?"

"this is not the time to joke around, platoon leader!"

you belted out a laugh at their unified shriek of despair. "it's fine, it's fine! put a little trust on me, yeah? if there's nothing else, i'll head on first. i'll be counting on you guys!"

---

"turned out the kaiju that emerged really did behave exactly like how platoon leader y/n had expected. i kind of felt bad for the first division officers that were assigned together with us because they weren't informed about the plan," toma, narumi had learned of his name, said.

narumi stood there, a tinge of amazement sitting in the far back of his mind at the thought of how meticulous you had been in planning your own strategies. although he was a bit annoyed that you didn't bother telling your fellow platoon leader or superiors— ashiro, hoshina, or him, even— about it. your officers were right; you could've died.

toma was about to add more when your sheepish voice in his earpiece caught his attention. "nee, nee, toma. are you free right now? or anybody, really. i've fixed the signals since it got altered again but uh, i kind of need some help with all these yoju around me," you said, not in the slightest worried about how dangerous the situation you were in right now.

in fact, you sounded like you were casually talking about fixing a broken lamp instead of trying to adjust the freaking junction boxes while being surrounded by a bunch of kaiju.

narumi zeroed in when toma cried out your name. "what? you said you already neutralized all of them, y/n-san! what do you mean there's more?!"

the first division captain immediately snatched the earpiece, completely unapologetic in his action. "your location, platoon leader?" he ordered. "i'm still at the comms towers— oya? is this captain narumi i hear?" he didn't bother answering before he was already running (not before tossing the earpiece back to its owner), leaving behind a flabbergasted toma.

when narumi eventually stepped past the metal fences enclosing the area where you were at, the rosiness of his irises detected not just the piles of dead monsters but also a horde of still-alive kaiju swarming around a radio mast. his eyes twitched, visibly annoyed now that he knew why his earpiece had been giving out static noises one too many times ever since he entered sector d.

he made a quick work of taking them down, slicing away and shooting at every kaiju that came his way. at one point, he heard a faint sound behind him. narumi was about to turn and finish off the kaiju that was ambushing him, but then there was a slight change in the air. it was heavy, and it was approaching fast.

suddenly, a figure dropped from above, plunging the kaiju straight in the core so swiftly narumi almost thought he saw a lightning strike right in front of his very eyes. with a power so dense it almost rivaled his own, the man could only stare as blood sprayed out from the dead monster, raining down on both him and you.

sweet lord, it was you.

with your personal weapon in hand, standing so gracefully on top of the corpse it had his breath stuttering in his chest.

fuck, that was so hot, narumi unconsciously thought.

you, with blood smeared everywhere on your face and suit, finally connected your eyes with his. "oh, captain narumi! i didn't think you'd actually come here," you exclaim. when he gave no reply, your eyebrows raised in curiosity. "did you get injured, captain? why are you on the ground?"

it was only then that he noticed that he was down on his knees (narumi? the narumi gen?? kneeling???), his own weapon laid at his side, neglected. what the hell? he refused to admit how powerful and magnificent you were that it had him forgetting about your little naivety, that it had him weak in the knees.

he shook himself out of his embarrassing stupor before quickly standing back up. "good... i'm good," narumi internally cursed at himself when he realized his voice quivered midway.

"anyway, what in the world was that?! your officer said you didn't inform my platoon of your little plan here!" he fussed.

"ah, that! it was a gamble actually. i didn't want to risk the lives of those who haven't worked with me enough to understand how i operate in this line of work. my subordinates knew what they were in here for," you explained, nonchalantly wiping away the red liquid from your face.

a gamble on your life, basically. narumi frowned at that. he was about to comment more when you turned away, though your face was still directed at him. "well, in any case, i think i should be thanking you, captain." you sent him a cheeky grin.

"huh, what for?"

"you said i was hot earlier. thanks!" with that, you dashed away to handle the remaining kaiju, leaving behind a flustered and rigid narumi gen as he watched you go on a killing spree.

in spite of your beauty and grace, in his eyes, you ain't no angel, no. you're a goddamn valkyrie, an ethereal being dancing with death in the middle of a bloody battlefield. and he— his heart, is a mere soldier ready and willing to be lead by you to the gates of heaven, he realised.

jp phrases used >> おや (oya), ねぇ ねぇ (nee nee)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[minty-mumbles]

True Colors

Summary: Monsters are stupid, but they do have excellent color vision, and can recognize patterns almost as well as Hylians. This leads to some misunderstandings.

Or:

Monsters assume that Hylians operate under the same color system as they do.

Content Warning: Not much to note. A few Bokoblins die.

Author's Note: I wrote this to fill this prompt from @linkeduniverse-prompts. It got way out of hand and ended up being about 3k words longer than I expected. I have a cheat sheet about color meanings at the end.

(Read on AO3 Here)

~~~

Greg wasn’t stupid. Well, he had been told plenty of times by his sisters that he was. He was a Red Bokoblin, and Reds weren't known for being very smart. (Not that any kind of Bokoblins were, but that was irrelevant to Greg.)

But personally, he felt he was a lot smarter than many of the others in his clan. Like Jeff.

Jeff was an idiot, even by Bokoblin standards.

It was because he was so intelligent, Greg thought, that he was able to devise a plan to sneak up on this group of travelers. (Truthfully, he wasn't being very sneaky. The group he was tracking was just being particularly unobservant at the moment.)

Greg had seen the perils of attacking first and asking questions later first hand. His brother, Derek, had done so, and picked a fight with the wrong group of travelers. Derek had paid the price for that mistake with his life. And then Derek II did the same... And then Derek III. And then there was Derek IV, who truthfully hadn’t made that poor of a choice in target. It was just plain unfortunate that that Hylian hero had shown up and lit him on fire. (Honestly, maybe his parents should stop naming their kids Derek.)

Not that picking a fight with the wrong Hylians was particularly hard to do for them. Their clan was mostly Reds, the lowliest and weakest of their kind. Only his eldest sisters were lucky enough to be born as Blues. If they went up against any Hylian but the weakest, they were in trouble.

So, yeah. Greg had seen many of his fellow clanmates fall to stupidity. He wasn’t going to be one of them.

At least he hoped so. Jeff might get him killed anyway. Greg didn't know why his sisters always put the two of them together for patrol duty.

Greg crept relatively silently through the bush towards the loudly chattering group of Hylians, letting out only an occasional squeal. Jeff, however, was moving as if he were a Hinox, and he was going to get them caught. Never mind Greg’s brilliant plan of sneaking up on the group of Hylians and seeing what they were up against first.

He turned to Jeff and tried to mime that he should stay here, while Greg got closer to check things out. Unfortunately, it just looked like flailing, with the occasional slap thrown in, and Jeff didn’t seem to understand. Thankfully, he seemed content to stay put. He had gotten distracted by a strange glowing blue ball halfway through Greg’s attempt at communication. Greg really didn't care, as long as Jeff shut up and didn’t move.

Greg crept further forward on his own. When he finally reached the treeline, he hid behind a fallen log, and set about observing the group.

Immediately, his malice-filled veins ran cold.

This was not an ordinary group of travelers.

The intricacies of the Hylians’ marking system were somewhat lost on Monsters as a whole, and although he prided himself on his above-average intelligence, Greg was no exception. The Bokoblin marking system was very straightforward. Those who were Red, like Greg, were the weakest. Then came the Blues, then the Blacks, the Whites, the Silvers, and then the mightiest of all Bokoblins, the Golds. It was quite simple. It telegraphed their ranks and battle prowess nicely, both to other Bokoblins, and to their enemies. Greg thought it was rather thoughtful to give their enemies a heads up on what they were going to be fighting.

Hylians were not in the habit of returning that favor. No Bokoblin had managed to really make heads or tails of their marking system. There were only a few accepted truths that all young Bokoblins are taught.

Brown was the most common coloration, and was pretty much assumed to be similar to Red Bokoblins. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the Browns, except that they were good at running away. A couple Reds could take down a Brown with no trouble.

Then there were the Whites. They were only really found near central Hyrule, near one of the Great Hylian Camps. They were much faster than the Browns and actually seemed to know what they were doing with weapons. They were also very good at sneaking. Greg knew that many camps had been wiped out by White Hylians.

Then there were the Reds. These were possibly the strangest of all the colors. Greg’s sire had told him that they were to be treated, cautiously, as allies. They never attacked Bokoblins without provocation, and they even occasionally teamed up with Bokoblins to take down the Hylians, especially the Whites.

Next up on the Hylian totem pole were the Blues. Personally, Greg thought it was weird that Hylians placed Blue above White, but Hylians as a whole were very strange. Except for a few sightings recently, Blues hadn’t been seen for many, many generations. Their legend persisted though, as they were perhaps the most consistent of all the Hylian colorations. If a Hylian had a bright blue coloring, you could assume that they would have high quality weapons, and would know what to do with them. Browns would even run towards them for protection, or so Greg was told.

They had been known for working together in large groups to bring down entire camps of Bokoblins. Greg had once been told that Bokoblins learned how to band together, and how to find safety in numbers from observing these Hylians.

And then.

And then there were the Greens.

If Blues were legendary, Greens were mythical. Sightings of them were few and very far between, which might have to do with the fact that the Bokoblins who saw them didn’t live to tell the tale. The destruction they wrought was so absolute that even if they hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years, their legend lived on.

(Greg himself had seen one, once. He had only lived because he had run away before the Green had spotted him. He usually tried not to think about it.)

So, yeah. Greg had been expecting a small group of Browns, perhaps some Whites or a Blue thrown in.

That was not what he had gotten.

This was an entire goddamn clan of Greens.

A loud yell from the pair closest to Greg covered up his shocked squeal, as his brain tried to process exactly how much danger he was in.

He could count seven Hylians in front of him, huddled around a campfire. The pair closest to him were wrestling on the ground. Distantly, Greg was reminded of how his sisters wrestled to assert dominance, but these Greens seemed to be much friendlier about it than his sisters were. They weren’t even drawing any blood. The one who currently seemed to be winning wore armor around his shoulder, and a stripe of bright blue around his neck.

That made Greg pause for a moment. Was this a Blue instead of a Green?

But no, the Hylian’s torso was covered in undeniable green.

Similarly, the one pinned under the Blue-Green wore a Red tunic, but under that, a dark Green gave him away. Perhaps the two were some sort of hybrid? The concept of hybrid Bokoblins was foreign. Bokoblins were always one color, but who knew with Hylians.

Most Hylians did not accept Reds into their groups, as they were hostile towards others of their own kind. Maybe that was why Blue-Green was wrestling with Red-Green?

A few yards away, another pair sat on a log watching the pair fight, with a third tending to a fire nearby. The two sitting on the log were the biggest Hylians Greg had seen in this group. If he had to pinpoint any of them as the leaders of this clan, it would be these two. One was covered in armor, which Greg had only seen on the most skilled Hylians, and only in small amounts. The fact that this Hylian was covered in the stuff was intimidating. Greg couldn’t really tell what color this Hylian was, as the armor covered him, but this must be the leader. He was big enough for it, and the one next to him seemed to be showing him a good amount of respect.

The Hylian sitting next to the Leader seemed more like the run-of-the-mill Green. (Not that any Green was run-of-the-mill, but whatever.) The most notable thing about him was the wolf pelt he wore around his shoulders, which did give Greg pause.

His sisters wore the skins of large animals they hunted, as a symbol of their higher status. Neither of them had a wolf pelt, though. Wolves were strong creatures, and best left alone. It could take an entire clan to take down a fully grown wolf, let alone a whole pack. The fact that this Hylian, who wasn’t even the leader of this clan, was wearing the wolf pelt so openly was clearly a warning.

The third was crouched over the fire, moving the logs around with a stick for some reason. This one was a White-Green, a long white covering over his shoulders. He was listening to the conversation between the Leader and Wolf-Pelt, occasionally adding his own thoughts.

Once Greg was able to get over his shock of seeing so many Greens in one place, he was able to see that they weren’t actually all Greens. Two of them, huddled closely together, were just wearing pale Blue. Not quite as concerning as the others, but still strong.

One of them was smaller than any of the others in the clearing. He wore a pale blue covering. Greg paused in confusion. In a group of powerful Greens, why would they tolerate a small, weak Blue? Clans could become stronger, as Greg’s was, as stronger Bokoblins were born. But if his clan was made up of Blues, and a Red was born, they would be killed or driven out. There was no room for weakness.

But then again, Hylians were very strange. Perhaps, since this Blue was obviously a youngling, they had simply not matured into their adult Green coloration? It was possible.

The youngling was crouched over a strange flat rock, held by the other Blue. Now, this one was the same size as the others in the group, and obviously an adult. The excuse of being a youngling did not apply to him.

So why….?

The Blue shifted, lifting the strange rock, and handing it off to the Youngling, joined the White-Green near the fire. As he did, Greg caught sight of a familiar symbol on the rock.

An eye.

The symbol was not strange to him. It was scattered all over the land on large black rocks. However, to see it on a smaller rock like this… seemed familiar, and not in a good way.

Greg strained his memory to try to remember when he had seen this before, and then it hit him.

He had seen this strange rock before, when Derek IV was killed. He had gone after a pair of Brown Hylians who had unwisely traveled off the road. Greg, still being quite young at that point, had hung back to see how it was done. It had gone well for a while. Derek IV chased the pair, swinging a club at them, while the Hylians screeched in fear and scrambled away.

Then, swooping down from the sky like a bird of prey, a Blue Hyalin descended. True to legend, Greg had watched the Browns scramble toward the newcomer for protection. Derek IV, likely having fallen asleep during their sire’s lessons, did not register the danger of this Hylian’s color, and ran straight towards the group.

Greg had watched in horror as his brother was cut down with graceful ease. He hadn’t even had time to squeal a battle cry before he was falling to the earth with a flaming sword buried in his side.

He continued to stare in mounting terror as the Blue bent down and harvested his brother's teeth. The Blue had even taken Derek IV’s weapon for his own before his brother finally took enough fire damage, and broke down into smoke, disappearing.

The Blue had approached the Browns, who hadn’t even looked disgusted at the looting of a body, and had instead gifted the Blue food as a token of appreciation for his protection.

Greg came to a sudden realization. This was no Blue. He was colored like one, but he was alone. According to legends, Blues came in packs, ruthlessly efficient in working together. Besides that, Greg could imagine only one color that was that efficient at killing.

Greens.

Greg didn’t know why this Green was disguised as a Blue, But he didn’t stick around to find out. The last thing he caught sight of was a strange rock on the Green’s hip, with an ominous eye on the front of it. He had booked back to the safety of his clan’s camp. Not that he harbored any delusions that anyone in his clan would survive if the Green-in-Disguise found them.

Thankfully, he hadn’t, and Greg had grown up trying desperately not to fall into the same trap of attacking first and finding out the consequences later as Derek IV had.

Now, the same strange eye symbol was back, on the same strange rock, in the possession of the same Green-in-Disguise. Well, the same clan, at least. The Youngling was still fiddling with the rock, occasionally calling out to the Green-in-Disguise. Greg could only assume it must be some type of weapon, if a Green was in possession of it.

Greg stumbled back, turning to flee. He had saved himself once by fleeing in the face of one Green, and he wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to take on seven Greens at once.

Wait- hold that thought. A rustle in the bushes on the opposite side of the clearing caught his eye. Against his better judgment, he crept back to look. If that was Jeff coming to look for him, and he stumbled into the encampment of a clan of Greens in the process, Greg was not going to be helping him.

Fortunately, (or unfortunately, Greg thought privately,) it wasn’t Jeff. It was two more Greens.

Greg felt faint, and nearly swooned on the spot as Wolf-Pelt called out in greeting to the two new arrivals.

These two new arrivals were underwhelming. They were both small. In fact, one of them was even smaller than the youngling already in the camp. His coloring was a strange mash-up of Blue, Red, and, oddly, Purple, which was a color that Greg had never heard of Hylians being. But he also had Green, plain as day. Greg had to wonder if this Four-Color was even younger than the Youngling. Maybe it wasn’t certain yet what his strength level was going to be?

The other was of a more reasonable height for a Hylian, although not as big as many of the others. He had brown coloration peeking out from underneath his green. Perhaps this was the weakest of them all? But again, if he was tolerated in this, frankly overpowered, clan of Greens, then there must be more to him than meets the eye.

But these two new arrivals, no matter how unthreatening they looked, meant the clan now numbered nine. Greg had never seen a Bokoblin clan this large, let alone a Hylian one, at least outside of the Great Hylian Camps. Normally, Hylians only traveled in small groups.

This was bad. If an entire clan of Greens had appeared in Hyrule, then the Hylians were getting stronger. He had to report this to his sisters.

With a determined grunt, Greg turned back to where he had left Jeff. He needed to collect him, and then head back. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think his sisters would care about them not finishing their patrol route.

When he arrived back to the place he left Jeff, his brother was still absorbed with kicking around that strange glowing blue ball from before. Greg didn't know what it was, but at this point he didn’t particularly care. He just wanted to get back to the slight safety of their camp.

Just as he was about to squeal at his brother that it was time to go, he heard a shout from behind him. It was one of the Greens, calling out. For a moment, Greg was worried that they had been discovered.

Then, he didn’t have to wonder anymore.

The weird glowy ball that Jeff had been playing with exploded in blue light. Before Greg could even shield his eyes against the light, it was over. The explosion had taken Jeff out in one hit. His brother's body was already disappearing into smoke, leaving nothing behind.

Greg knew they had been discovered. Somehow, this whole situation must have been a trap, and it had been set up by the Greens. They must have known that Greg was there the entire time.

These Greens were terrifying. Greg could hear Hylian footsteps moving in his direction, and booked it out of the clearing. He wasn't sticking around for them to find him. He was leaving.

At least his sisters couldn't put him with Jeff on patrol anymore.

~~~

It was a rather chilly night. The seasons were just changing in his Hyrule, splashes of reds and golds dotted here and there as some trees started to shed their leaves, and the autumn air wasn’t exactly warm or balmy.

The group usually waited until Wild was ready to make dinner to start a fire, but not tonight. Sky volunteered to collect firewood, and only stopped to set down his pack before leaving to search for kindling. Four and Hyrule also left to scout the area, and make sure there weren't any threats lingering nearby.

Wild helped Time and Twilight move some fallen logs into the clearing for makeshift benches, and then collapsed onto the nearest one. He sighed, and pulled his boots off, shaking a pebble out of the left one that had been bothering him for hours. He didn’t immediately put the boots back on, letting his feet relax after a long day of walking.

Wind settled next to him, Time and Twilight not far off. Legend and Warriors were already bickering about something or another, snarking at each other for where they were perched across the empty fire ring.

Wind sniffed next to him. “Goddess, Wild, your feet stink! Why did you take your shoes off?”

Wild very maturely stuck out his tongue at the younger hero, pointedly ignoring Time’s muttered: “Don’t encourage him, we already have one squabbling pair, we don’t need another.” Wild stuck his dirty boots back in his slate, pulling out one of his cleaner pairs. Wind, forgetting the apparent stench, shifted closer in interest.

“So, how many different sets of clothing do you keep in there?” Wild shifted to show Wind his slate, swiping through the armor and clothing he accumulated on his journey.

“So, this is the Sheikah stealth set. It’s the first set of clothes I bought after waking up from my shrine. I got it in Kakariko. Before that, I was basically wearing a set of rags I found in my Shrine.”

A rustle from across the clearing drew Wild’s attention as Wind continued to poke at the slate. It was just Sky, carrying an armful of wood. Before the Skyloftian could start to set up the fire, Warriors took things one jeer too far, causing Legend to leap across the pit, tackling him off his log. Sky didn’t even do a double-take, ignoring the two wrestling near the side of the clearing, and started to get the fire going.

Next to Wild, Time and Twilight were watching the fight with interest. Twilight turned to Time. “Should we stop them?”

Time shrugged. “They’re not actually hurting each other, are they? Think of it as hand-to-hand combat training.” Twilight stared at Time as Legend got pinned underneath Warriors, and screeched, biting his hand in retaliation.

Time stared back. There was a moment of silence, before Time spoke again. “Fifty rupees that Legend wins.”

Twilight sighed, returning his gaze to the fighting pair. “You’re just as bad as the others sometimes, you know that?” Time just raised an eyebrow in question. Twilight groaned, defeated. “I’ll take that bet.”

Wild snorted. Twilight liked to pretend that he was less of a gremlin than the rest of them, but really, he just hid it better.

“Hey, isn’t that what the Warriors was teasing you about the other day?” Wind’s question brought Wild’s attention back to his slate. Showing on the screen was the Gerudo set, displayed on the digital form of Wild himself. “Wait, it’s yours?”

Wild’s hand darted out, covering the younger boy's mouth. “You will tell no one about this.” He hissed, eyes darting around the clearing, checking to see if anyone had heard. It looked like he was in the clear. It wasn’t that he was particularly ashamed of wearing those clothes, but he would rather spare himself the teasing he knew would be imminent if the group found out.

Wind batted his hand away from his mouth, grinning at him mischievously. “Okay, I won’t.” Wild waited, not believing that it would be that easy. “You have to make seafood curry for dinner though.” Wild hummed, considering. It wasn’t as bad as he thought Wind was going to demand.

“Alright,” He acquiesced. He was planning on making Creamy Vegetable Soup tonight, but he thought seafood curry was just as good. It was no trouble for him to switch up the menu. He had a couple of nice Progys in his slate they needed to eat anyways. He would have done this even if Wind just asked him, though, so he wasn’t sure why-

“But you have to make it spicy.” Wind insisted. Ah, there it was.

“Sure.” He shrugged. Most of the others wouldn’t be pleased. Seafood Curry had a lot of goron spice in it, at least it did the way Wild liked to make it. Wind, Legend, Four, and himself were the only ones in the group who could handle spice. He and Wind had grown up eating spicy food, and Legend traveled to very distant lands, building up a tolerance to all sorts of spices. Four could only tolerate spice occasionally. (It varied. Sometimes he couldn’t even handle a spiced meat skewer, and sometimes he inhaled the spiciest food Wild could make. It was very strange.) Most of the others in the group had low spice tolerance.

Usually, Wild acknowledged that fact in his cooking, and cut back on the spice, but since Wind was asking…

Well, he certainly wouldn’t complain.

He handed the slate off to Wind, rising to join Sky next to the fire, to make sure it was at the right temperature for seafood curry.

Another rustle from the bushes around the clearing drew his attention to the returning Hyrule and Four.

“Anything to report, boys?” It was Twilight who called out, as Time was still snickering at the sulking Warriors and his own purse, now fifty rupees heavier.

“Nothing of importance,” It was Four who answered, coming to sit next to Time. “There’s a stream a few minutes away, and we found a set of Bokoblins footprints, but they were days old.”

“Good, now we should-“ Wild’s attention was drawn away from both the fire and Twilight’s response by a call from Wind.

“Hey, Wild! What does this button do?” That sentence made dread well up in Wild’s stomach. There were only so many buttons to push on the slate, and Wild’s mind flashed back to a very crucial detail that he had forgotten.

He spun around, nearly hitting Sky with the stick he had been using to poke the fire. He could barely get out a shrieked “Wait!” Before there was an ominous click, a moment of tense silence, then-

BOOM.

Right. The bomb he had dropped earlier, and had forgotten to dissipate.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling all the world like he was every one of his one hundred and seventeen years. He let out a slow breath, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. Was this what Twilight felt like all the time? He needed to go easier on his mentor.

“That button explodes things, Wind.”

A silent, judgmental stare from Time told him to fix the mess he’d created. With a huff, he heaved himself to his feet, and motioned for Wind to follow him. “Come on, kid. Let’s go do damage control.”

~~~

A/N: You know, writing this made me headcanon that Bokoblins have truly excellent color vision.

Anyways, here's what all the colors mean;

Brown: Average Traveler // White: Sheikah // Red: Yiga // Blue: Hyrule’s Military // Green: Heroes

Blue-Green: Warriors // Red-Green: Legend // White-Green: Sky // The Leader: Time // Wolf-Pelt: Twilight // Youngling: Wind // Green-in-Disguise: Wild // Brown-Green: Hyrule // Four-Color: Four

[thishintoflove]

For the bobadin prompts; maybe something angsty with a little fluff?

I feel like a lot of fics don’t do enough exploration into the ‘caring Boba’ side - the one that decided ‘I’m just gonna help this random stranger save their child because why not?’ - and it always warms my heart when I find a fic that does.

Oh I feel the same way, anon! Don’t get me wrong, I love rough!Boba fics but I also truly believe that the man has a deep, caring side too. 

Here’s some soft!Boba helping Din during an anxiety attack, shortly after losing Grogu on Tython.

Boba Fett decided that he needed more information. 

The Slave I was on autopilot, headed to Nevarro at the request of the silver Mandalorian. Fennec was off somewhere in the ship, probably polishing her weapons, and Boba decided to go track down Mando. They’d barely exchanged more than a few sentences, but here he was, piloting his ship at the direction of some Mandalorian he’d just met all because he’d willingly given Boba his armor back. 

Bounty hunters lived in a world of exchanges: everything came with a price and Boba always paid his debts. The feeling of pure relief he felt at putting his father’s armor on again was so strong that the least he could do was help this fellow bounty hunter out. 

He shook his head as he quietly made his way through the passageways of his ship. No, it was more than that. If he was being honest with himself, he felt some deep, innate need to help the silver Mando due to his unique situation. He was a father and his child had been stolen. Instinct took over when Boba realized the situation, and he’d immediately offered his services to help the guy out because the mere thought of walking away knowing that he did nothing would have driven him mad with guilt. How could he purposely leave a child in the same situation that he himself had been left in? Boba Fett was not a man to leave a child fatherless when there was something he could do to help the situation. Apparently that meant he’d offer his ship and his services without thinking twice, all because the thought of separating a father and son made his stomach churn with unaddressed feelings. 

And now here he was, serving as a taxi service and a hired hand to a Mandalorian he didn’t really know or trust yet. So he needed more information. Surely Mando would be able to explain the whole situation, and then Boba could feel better about what he was doing instead of just feeling like a bit of a sucker. 

Boba climbed down the ladder into the cargo hold and immediately picked up on the sound of heavy, modulated breathing. He quietly moved toward the sound and peered among the crates to see Mando doubled over, his hand gripping at the beskar chest plate as he tried to control his rapid breaths. 

What was going on? Was Mando injured? He hadn’t seen any blood as they’d boarded the ship. Boba quickly ran through every single possibility that might have brought on this clear anguish that Mando was experiencing, and he quickly came to the obvious conclusion: the man was having a panic attack. 

Slowly, Boba approached the hyperventilating man and cautiously called out so that he wouldn’t frighten him,

“Mando? It’s Fett. Are you alright?”

It didn’t work and the man jumped anyway. He quickly whipped around and stared at Boba through his visor, one hand immediately going to the blaster on his hip. But the movement seemed to be too much for him and he wavered, gripping the edge of the crate to hold himself up. Boba quickly stepped forward and grabbed Mando’s shoulder, squeezing it in his strong grip as he helped the man sit down on the edge of the box. The gesture was meant to ground the other man, and he hoped he could convey a sense of calmness through the touch rather than frighten the man even more. A visible shudder rippled along Mando’s arms, down his chest, and through his entire body. After a few seconds, he was finally capable of taking a full breath.

“That’s right. Try to take deep breaths, my friend. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Boba coaxed, hoping his presence was helping Mando and not adding to his stress. 

He knew what it was like to feel small and desperately alone. Being a bounty hunter was a solo profession- there was no room for long-term relationships or building bonds with others. After all his years traversing the galaxy alone, Boba was self-aware enough to know that he didn’t react to kindness and touch in the same way that most people did. He assumed Mando was the same way. The armor they both wore put out a menacing image to others, but it didn’t change the feelings of the person inside it. They were both human, and sometimes humans needed to feel like they weren’t alone in the world. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe here,” Boba continued, speaking softly as he tried to think of what he’d like to hear if he was in this situation. He’d learned the steps necessary to regain control of his mind and body under the worst of situations and he hoped his methods would work on Mando too. “You’re safe. Take all the time you need.” 

Still sitting down, Mando’s hand landed on top of Boba’s that was settled on his shoulder. He kept his head tucked down toward his chest, still concentrating on his breathing, but his hand squeezed Boba’s in recognition and gratitude. They stayed in the same position for what seemed like an eternity before Mando finally drew his head up and turned to look at Boba through his helmet.  

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so small and tight that Boba could practically hear the tears in his eyes, even if he couldn’t see them. 

Mando’s other hand found its place on Boba’s forearm. While holding on tightly, the younger man emanated the gratefulness he felt at Boba’s touch. Honestly, Boba was surprised that it seemed to work so well. He wasn’t exactly known for his emotional intuition, but he was pleased he was capable of calming and resetting Mando. It confirmed his suspicion that they were more alike than he originally thought.  

“How are you feeling? Are you alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even but a hint of worry floated beneath it.

Mando swallowed hard before answering, “I am now. Whatever you did or are doing... it’s helping.” 

He took another deep breath, still trying to regain complete control. Boba slowly ran his hand down from Mando’s shoulder toward his lower arm, preparing to pull away, but as Mando felt him withdraw he rushed to grab his hand back, ensuring they maintained contact. Boba was surprised- expecting that Mando would want the physical contact to end as soon as possible. But maybe the man was finally being honest with himself and his own needs. It’d certainly taken Boba a long time to do the same thing, and he knew this probably wasn’t easy for Mando. If the man was asking for comfort via touch, Boba was not about to deny him. 

Mando grabbed onto his retreating hand, while the other hand gripped Boba’s forearm even tighter. Boba merely nodded and squeezed back, hoping to reassure the fragile man. 

“Please… don’t leave yet,” Mando said quietly. His voice was almost pleading, surprising Boba once again. He was pleased that Mando seemed to recognize that he would not judge, ridicule or shame him for his current weakened state. There was a new feeling in the pit of his stomach too- a gratifying, contented sensation that seemed to bloom when Mando admitted he needed him. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, slowly reaching up to rub the back of the other man’s neck, “I’ll stay.”

Mando hummed and let his head fall forward again, and Boba imagined his eyes falling shut in relief. Boba massaged Mando’s neck, trying to stay focused on comforting the younger man while ignoring the new feelings growing in his own chest. He realized he wanted to take care of him. He’d never felt such an immediate desire to protect someone before. Now was certainly not the time to dwell too deeply on that, but later Boba would reflect on the satisfaction he felt at being needed. 

He watched Mando’s hands clench and unclench, and finally the man tried to speak again, “I’m not usually… I never…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Boba replied, “Especially not now. I know you’re hurting.”

Mando nodded, but he glanced up at the ceiling of the ship and spoke anyway, “I had one job. One mission: to protect him. And I failed.”

His body began to shiver again, and Boba moved to sit beside him, wrapping one strong arm around the other man’s shoulders as he continued. “I failed him, and now he could be hurt or… or worse…”

“You haven’t failed him,” Boba said sternly, “A terrible accident occurred today, but you haven’t failed him and you won’t fail him.”

“But the Moff-”

“Do you want to get him back?” Boba asked, knowing the answer but wanting Mando to say it outloud. 

“More than anything,” Mando replied without hesitation. 

“Then we will. We will find him and we will get him back to you.”

Hearing the conviction in his voice must have helped, because Mando finally slumped against him, practically collapsing into Boba’s side. It was more physical contact than Boba had received in months, and he was surprised at how normal it felt-- as if it were the most natural thing in the world for this random Mandalorian to slot into his side like a puzzle piece. 

“Today, you’ve done enough,” Boba told him, hoping to keep the tension from creeping back into the other man, “There’s nothing else we can do until we reach Nevarro.”

Mando was silent, so Boba continued, “Say it with me. You’ve done enough.”

“I’ve done enough.”

Boba let out a pleased hum when Mando obeyed him. He even managed to sound sure of himself, which was definitely a step in the right direction. Boba reached down and patted the man’s knee with the hand that wasn’t still wrapped around his shoulders. He heard Mando sigh, just the softest of sounds, and Boba wished he knew what the man looked like so that he could properly imagine the way his lips parted at the sound. 

“I don’t know how to repay you. For taking me to Nevarro and for… this.” Mando said, sounding a bit more like his normal self.

“You do not need to repay me,” Boba told him, meaning every word. For once in his long life, he truly didn’t want anything in return. All he wanted was to make this strange yet familiar Mandolorian happy again. Maybe it was because he saw himself reflected in the younger man or maybe it was something more, but all that mattered was that Boba Fett was now dedicated to helping him find the foundling. 

”I will stay as long as you need me.”

[anjuschiffer]

No Point In Lying

I should’ve been working on WIPs...oops...

Note: This is pre-daminette...and while Damian does not appear, I’m still tagging this as Maribat as it part of a Maribat au...

--

Tags: @theatreandcomicfreak @genshin-and-fanfics-are-my-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

--

AO3

Lila pinched her skin as she stood outside the classroom room, waiting for her new teacher Mlle Bustier to introduce her.

She always hated introducing herself. What was the point of it when all the friends she would end up making will forget about her months later? They always promised to keep in touch and yet, they never do.

Thanks to her mother being a diplomat, Lila always found herself changing school every school year and while travel stories always captured people’s attention, it was only temporary. When she would run out of stories to tell, one by one, they would leave, disappointed in knowing that Lila had nothing else to offer.

A temporary entertainment in their eyes…

Looking at her reddened wrist covered in nail marks, Lila let out a long heavy sigh when she heard someone climbing up the stairs. 

Quickly turning, Lila was surprised to see a student running up the stairs, the boy dashing straight towards her!

“Watch out!”

Lila quickly stepped to the side, watching as the boy skidded towards the door, only to fall face flat onto the ground. Panicking, Lila helped him out, watching as the boy towered her by a whole foot. “Thank you! Can’t believe I was almost late for- say.” The boy looked at her from top to bottom. 

Lila watched as he was about to grab her hair, only to stop. “May I?” While Lila would never let anyone touch her hair, she somehow found herself saying yes. “Thanks.”

She felt as he ruffled her bangs a bit, remaining still as she let the boy fix her hair, feeling as he gently pushed strands of hairs away from her face and placed back the silver hairband she had chosen to wear that day. “And finished.” The boy proudly announced, taking out his phone and showing Lila her reflection using the front camera. “Your hairband was a bit out of place and I-”

“Thank you.” Lila cut off, giving the boy back his phone. “I didn’t think much about-” The boy let out a small gasp.

“You can’t just not worry about your hair! It looks very pretty and that shine! You already take lots of good care for it already! But doing these small-”

“I see you’ve met out new student Marcel.” Mlle Bustier interrupted, “and you’re late...again,” causing Marcel to let out a nervous laugh.

“Apologies, Mlle Bustier. I’ll try not to be late.” Marcel gave a small bow, heading into the classroom, Lila following him as he sat in the front of the classroom, next to a boy with glasses. 

“That’s Marcel Dupain-Cheng.” Mlle Bustier snapped Lila from her trance, Lila feeling the tips of her ears burning. “He’s the class president. During lunch today, he’ll be showing you around the school. But for now, let’s head inside. It’s time for you to introduce yourself to the rest of the class.”

Lila could only nod, feeling her stomach jitter for the first time in ages. 

--

Before she could even approach Marcel to ask him about the tour around the school, Lila was ambushed by her fellow classmates, one in particular shoving a phone in her face.

“Hi! I’m Alya! I was wondering if you would be willing to say- hey Marcel! I’m- hey!” Lila watched as Marcel frowned as he took Alya’s phone and raised it above his head, Lila watching as Alya struggled to take it back.

“Alya, we already talked about this. Ask people before recording them.” Marcel pocketed the phone. “You won’t be getting it until you apologize to Lila.” After an apology, Alya got her phone back and put it away. Just as she was about to ask Lila about her travels, Marcel grabbed Lila by her wrist and dragged her outside the classroom, Lila wondering what exactly was happening.

“Marcel...I don’t think she’s following us.” Lila spoke up, watching as Marcel got flustered, instantly, but clumsily, letting go of her.

“S-Sorry about that! It’s just that I know how energetic Alya can get when she gets like that and thought that-”

“Thank you.” Lila smiled, clasping her hands behind her back. “Really. Thank you.” Smiling, Marcel returned the smile, quickly going onto the promised tour, Lila absorbing his every word. 

--

Just a month into school and Lila already fitted in with the rest of the class, already having a best friend in the form of Alya. Even after running out of stories to tell them, Lila found herself invited to every girl’s outing, after school events, club meetings and evern shopping out on weekends.

Today, the girls were out having a picnic, trying to catch Lila up on the different events that happened in the school year so far.

“-but of course! We only had one guy who was willing to go with our ridiculous plan.” Alya retold, looking at all the girls before signaling them.

“Marcel!” The girls said in unison, Lila watching as Mylene, Alix and Alya laughed while Rose and Juleka simply smiled at the memory. 

“He’s just like Ivan.” Mylene added, a soft smile on her face. “He may look intimidating at first, but the moment he speaks, you can tell he’s a big softie!”

“Doesn’t help that he’s so tall.” Alix raised her hands above her head. “Guy’s a giant!”

“You’re just jealous because he’s so tall.” Alya poked.

“Have you seen his dad?” Alix almost screamed, honestly wondering if anyone has seen Marcel’s father, or was she the only one?

“I remember when I first met him,” Juleka spoke up, making Lila jump. Can you blame her though? This was the first time she’s ever heard her talk! “I was busy helping tune my brother’s guitars, sitting on the Liberty’s deck when I saw him, staring back at me. One minute he was on the grass and the next, on the Liberty’s deck, asking me to model for him.”

Now that was surprising.

“Wait, is that how he actually asked you to model for you?” Alix screeched before going into a laughing fit, Lila watching as the others soon joined in, leaving Lila confused.

“Oh,” a snort. “That’s right! How did we forget to tell you!” Alya managed to say, gesturing Rose to fill in Lila while she continued to laugh.

“Marcel runs his own fashion line: MDC! He designs and sews all of the clothing, hats, bags and accessories in his fashion line. Juleka,” Rose gestured to her blushing girlfriend, “is Marcel’s main model.”

“Main model?” Lila asks, looking at the rest of the girls. “Do you guys help model for him too?”

“Sometimes.” Mylene shyly states. “But he mainly asks Juleka, Aurore and Rose to model for him. Aurore is another girl in the school!” She quickly adds when she saw Lila panic.

“Oh? What’s this?” Alya smirked, Lila feeling a shiver down her spine. “Could Lila...have a crush on Marcel?”

“W-What?! NO! No!” lila squeaked, knowing her face contradicted her feelings. “I barely speak to him! How would I have a crush on him when the only time I speak to him is during class and that’s it?”

Apparently that wasn’t convincing enough, Alya wrapping an arm around Lila, a cheshire smile plastered onto her face. 

“Oh Lila, you can’t fool us that easily. Not that you should be shy about it. Almost everyone in the class has had a crush on the designer.” Alya confessed, Lila watching as Mylene looked away while Rose hid her face into her hands.

“Had?” Lila dared to ask. “Does-”

“Yup.” Alix quickly answered, a grin plastered on her face. “Nathaniel, Chloe and Sabrina? They’ve fallen victim to Marcel’s spell. Oh! But of course, Chloe would never admit to falling in love with the baker’s son.” Alix quickly wrapped up, noticing Lila’s pale face. Uh-oh. “W-Well, despite-”

“Despite there being many people who’ve had a crush on Marcel,” Alya picked up, hitting Alix’s shoulder, “Marcel never showed any interest in them, something about none of them appealing to him. No offense!” Alya quickly said as she looked at Mylene and Rose. “And to be quite honest, I think you have a good chance of getting Marcel’s attention.” 

“What?” Lila squeaked, feeling her cheeks burn. 

“You’re literally the first person Marcel has ever went “designer mode” the minute he laid eyes on you.” Alix clarified. “Never done it to anyone else but you.” Alya squealed.

“If you do capture Marcel’s attention- imagine it! The two of you would be the cutest couple in school! No! In all of Paris! You and Marcel, posing together-”

Lila let out a screech, feeling her face on fire as she buried it into her hands.

“No way, now way, no way!” Lila denied. “Marcel’s just someone who I admire! He’s the first person I met who welcomed me to Dupont, so of course I’m going to-”

“Alright, alright.” Alya sighed, patting Lila’s shoulder. “So you don’t have a crush on Marcel...so that means you’ll be alright with him getting your measurements and being face-to-face with him, right?” Lila’s head snapped up.

“What?” Alya showed Lila her phone, Lila reading the message. 

“Marcel needs a model right now since Aurore might not make it to his photo shoot in an hour, so of course, I told him you’re okay with filling in for her.” Lila sputtered to come up with an answer, only being able to watch as the girls dragged her to Marcel’s studio…

Or rather bedroom.

There he was, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pair of sweats, his toned arms exposed. Did he work out?

Trying to not gulp loudly, Lila could hear the snickering and whispers of good luck as the girls left them alone, Marcel giving Lila an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for making you-”

“No!” Lila accidentally squeaked out. “Help being fine- mean.” She cleared her throat, hoping her heart would stop beating so loudly in her ears. “I’m glad to be able to help a friend out.” Lila answered, hoping she didn’t cross a line by claiming Marcel to be her friend.

Judging by Marcel’s smile, she didn’t cross it, causing her heart to flutter.

“Thanks Lila, you’re truly a life saver! Now all that I need to do is-” Lila simply smiled and nodded, her breath hitching when Marcel’s fingers grazed her shoulder as he started to take her measurements.

Being so close to him, she could smell the sweet aroma of bread, a small hint of-

Oh no…

There was no hiding it anymore, no point in lying about it, because...they were right...Marcel wasn’t just a friend…

He definitely was a crush...and a huge one at that.

[magisteramentia]

The Resort - Arianna of Corporate

Arianna lifted her beige pleated skirt to show the underwear the Company had chosen for her, a matching set of blue bikini panties and bra, that combined with her blue top.

“Are you pleased, Master?” Arianna said and bent over the wooden desk.

Ariana had taken well to her training. In her daily life, she was barely aware she had become her boss’s, Julian’s slave.

With a little wiggle, she looked back to see if her boss was pleased.

She fixed her secretary’s glasses and smiled.

This was the way she had learned to show appreciation.

After Julian told her she won the sales competition to go on a corporate retirement, Ari was elated, so she had to show how thankful she was.

All their hard work finally paid off. All those hours he spent with her on the re-training program.

She barely remembered any of it, but it worked.

-----

Every day for the past month Ari arrived early to the office, logged onto her computer, and played the tutorial Julian prepared for her. All she could recall were the first few minutes where Julian talked about customer service, company loyalty, and... obedience? That couldn’t be right.

“Just because you don’t remember it doesn’t mean it isn’t working,” Julian reassured her, “Most learning is subconscious, like, how you learned to talk at first. You will notice the changes soon.”

He gave her a dismissive smile before getting back to work on his own computer.

Arianna sat down back at her computer and kept with the tutorial; even with all her doubts and how boring the program was, she had to admit her sales were higher than her co-workers since she began following Julian’s regime.

Though she wasn’t sure how she was doing it.

All she noticed was that a week into the program, she was growing uncomfortable with her regular underwear.

What she didn’t notice was the following Monday she arrived early to give Julian a personal fashion show where he chose her new wardrobe and lingerie.

She was getting more clients, mostly men, and meeting them in their homes or hotels to talk about their insurance packages. They were very receptive to her new wardrobe, complimenting her professional look.

But while she walked out of the meetings hours later with signatures worth thousands of dollars, she was a bit confused as to how it got so late in the night.

From the time she spent at the office, she listened to the program recommending Ari made healthier choices. Eating fewer carbs, exercising more.

Once again she talked with Julian about it.

“A good presentation assures the clients of your professionalism,” Julian said, “I bet you realized that the new wardrobe is getting you better contracts, here.”

Julian showed her charts that demonstrated the spike in sales since she began dressing according to Julian’s recommendations.

Ari sat beside him and absentmindedly nodded as her mind drifted off.

Julian offered to provide her with protein supplements and to make time to help her find an adequate cardio routine.

Ari nodded and forgot what happened after.

From that day on, Julian called her to his office for their daily cardio routine, and every time she couldn’t remember what she did inside his office. By the time she walked out, her neck and jaw felt a bit sore. And sometimes, when she looked at the mirror to fix her makeup, she found stains on her clothes or a dollop of cream in her hair.

As the program progressed, arousal was one of the difficulties she kept encountering in her daily life. Arianna never felt so sexually frustrated. Before working under Julian she used to only need to relieve herself once or twice a week, read an erotic story in the bath or before going to sleep, using her hands or trusty her vibrator.

Nowadays, when she had free time, it was all she could think about. Sometimes she imagined some of her clients, sometimes it was Julian.

Her vibrator’s batteries kept dying out on her, always keeping her on edge but never able to cum unless... unless she pictured Julian.

Julian choosing her clothes.

Julian taking off her clothes.

Julian’s lips on her own.

Julian’s cock between her lips.

Julian pulling on her hair.

Julian fucking her brains out.

Julian cumming down her throat, on her lips, on her back.

“Fuck!” Arianna screamed as another charge died before she could cum.

The following morning Arianna felt groggy, exhausted, and constantly horny. Sitting at her desk, Arianna’s fingers absentmindedly reached for her pussy. Images of herself on her knees, with a collar around her neck, Julian spanking her and calling her name. She was almost there.

She was gasping and staring at the computer when Julian touched her shoulder.

“Arianna!” He called.

Arianna jumped in her seat. She was not wearing a bra that day, (Julian didn’t tell her to do so) and her nipples were erect under her blouse. She felt self-conscious and blushing. Her hands bolted to the side, cleaning her pussy juices on the fabric of her skirt. “Yes, Sir?, I mean Julian?”

Julian smiled, “Sir is fine, did you finish today’s tutorial?”

Arianna looked away and checked her computer. “Yes, Sir,” Arianna said.

“Good girl, Arianna,” He tapped her shoulder.

Arianna shuddered with pleasure.

“Keep the wonderful work.” He smiled and walked away.

“Sir?” Arianna called out to him.

“Yes?” Julian turned and watched Arianna fidget in her seat.

“I would... I was feeling a bit distracted. Maybe you could assist me with some of those cardio exercises you have been helping me with?” She thrust her chest forward and curled one lock of her hair.

“Sorry Ari,” He said and began walking away, “We have to close accounts soon and see who goes to the corporate retreat with me this month, you are taking the lead so far, just hold on like that for a little bit. I think you have an appointment this afternoon?”

“Right, yes Sir, thank you for reminding me,” Arianna nodded and deflated.

“Good girl, see you later,” Julian said and left.

Arianna had to bite her lip to keep herself from screaming as the orgasm shook her entire body.

After that meeting Arianna worked every afternoon, reviewing insurance policies with their clients over their dinner tables. She met new clients with the outfits that Julian suggested. And after every meeting that week she left shuddering, restless and sore, particularly around her breasts.

Every night she arrived at her home wet and increasingly horny, growing desperate and needy. Unable to cum, she fell asleep with her hands and vibe between her legs.

She blamed the excess of work on her sexual frustration; she was too tired to cum after all the sales she was closing.

On the last day of the competition, Arianna arrived to find a gift box on her desk.

There was a tiny note.

“Congratulations on completing the program.- Julian.”

Arianna opened the box and found a black collar with a metal ring on it.

She immediately put it around her neck and walked to Julian’s office.

“Did you like your gift?” Julian asked without lifting his eyes from the paperwork he was revising.

“I love it,” Arianna said, touching the leather collar.

Julian put down the pen and watched her blush.

“I think I have to give you a second commendation,” he said, “Since you are the leader in sales, you get to go with me to the beach for the corporate retreat,” Julian said with a wide smile and a growing erection.

“Thank you, sir.” She said bending over the desk and sliding her panties to the side.

“You deserve a reward for all your hard work.” He added and walked behind her.

He caressed her ass. His thumb pressing the small of her back like a button.

Arianna shuddered and arched, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“What are you?” Julian asked.

“Your loyal slave.” She droned.

“What is your purpose?” He asked.

“To serve you and please you, sir,” Julian slid his cock inside her.

“What are you going to do?” He began thrusting in and out of her.

“Anything you want, Master.” Arianna moaned.

That day she walked out of Julian’s office wearing a tag on her new collar.

She prepared for the trip with Julian by going to the salon and getting a Brazilian, despite Julian telling her how cute she looked with her brown bush between her legs, she didn’t want to embarrass him when wearing the new bikini he bought for her.

With something so tight and small, her pubes wouldn’t seem elegant.

-----

Arianna knelt on the carpeted floor of the hotel. Her eyes were foggy as she looked up and bobbed her head on the cock of a man from another branch of the company.

She was wearing a blue dress with ample cleavage that showcased the chain dangling from the collar around her neck.

The man fucked Arianna’s head until he came inside her mouth. She gulped it all down, careful to not let a single drop fall and stain her dress, “Thank you, Sir,” Arianna said with a devoted smile and cleaned her mouth.

Before someone else took their turn with her, Julian approached from behind her and helped her up.

“You are doing great, Ari” Julian whispered and placed his arm around her back.

He led her through the crowded hall. Ari saw men and women on their knees, fellow pets and slaves sucking and licking their masters.

She gave Julian a vapid smile. “Thank you, Master.”

“Are you ready for the next part of your training?” Julian asked and pulled her close, caressing her naked back.

“I am your loyal slave, Master,” She cuddled close to him, “Your faithful pet to be trained as you please.”

Julian gave her a confident smile and pushed open the big wooden doors that led out of the main hall.

The resort provided a few select services, among them a tattoo parlor.

Julian told Ari to sit on the chair facing backwards and exposing her back.

Julian showed the tattoo artist the design.

The tattoo artist, a cute, petite girl with raven hair and many piercings and tattoos, sat behind Ari.

“Maybe you should distract her while I work.” She told Julian.

He nodded and stood in front of Ari, taking out his cock.

Ari’s lips parted. She took her tongue out, letting a silver thread of drool fall from her mouth to the floor before she began sucking him.

Ari spaced out and enjoyed the vibrations on her lower back and the taste in her mouth.

She was serving her master proudly, just as he taught her during her training. She took as much as she could, trying to maintain eye contact, which was difficult with every thrust from her boss and how the tattoo artist stopped from time to time to play with Ari’s pussy, making her eyes roll to the back of her head.

“I am proud of you, pet.” Her Master said, caressing her face. She was so elated she almost came from the praise.

She pulled out the cock from her mouth to speak

“Thank you, Master.” She said with a smile and swallowed him whole.

A woman walked into the tattoo parlor and stood behind Julian. She was wearing a black suit with a pencil skirt. She had short black hair and diamond earrings.

She blew on Julian’s ear.

“Fuck!” He turned his head back and shivered.

She watched him fuck Ari’s head and gave him a Mona Lisa smile.

“Did her service training include female satisfaction?” She asked Julian with a demanding tone.

Julian pulled his cock out of Ari’s mouth, leaving her panting and drooling.

“I...” Julian gulped, “I... never asked. The program was supposed to cover it.” He said and stood aside.

“We will have to find out.” The woman said. She stood in front of Ari and lifted her skirt, exposing her naked bush; she parted her lips with her manicured hands and Ari began licking her earnestly, hungrily. Overtaken by instinct.

Ari lapped and sucked the woman in front of her. She was the first woman she ever serviced, but she did it expertly.

The tattoo artist finished her work and stood back while her clients finished. She could wait a little while to collect her tip.

The woman gave Julian an approving nod, and Julian took his place behind his slave. He lifted Ari’s ass, caressing the brand on her back. A mark of ownership to the company, to him. To his Mistress.

He pushed his cock inside Ari, making her release a sweet, soft moan.

Ari’s tongue dutifully pleased the woman in front of her. The tangy musk she breathed made her mind foggier than usual. Despite that, Ari didn’t neglect her duties to her Master. She moved her ass in a rhythm that she knew pleased her boss.

The woman’s legs gave in as she felt how Ariana relentlessly, yet kindly, pressed her clit with her tongue and her hands caressed her legs, her labia, and eventually drove her fingers inside her pussy with her lips and tongue still sucking her hard.

The sight of his slave, making another woman orgasm, brought Julian to the brim and made him release his pent-up cum inside her.

Ari felt a jolt of pleasure surge through her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head.

Her hanging tongue dripped with saliva and cum.

The woman cupped Ari’s chin and licked Ari’s tongue.

The tattoo artist walked behind her and handed her a handkerchief that the woman used to clean her wet pussy before fixing her clothes.

“May I?” The tattoo artist asked, pointing to Ari’s head.

“Go ahead.” The woman said.

The tattoo artist grabbed Ari’s head and positioned her against her eager pussy.

Ari pleasured the new woman automatically and with the same eagerness as she did before.

Julian’s cock popped out of Ari. A thread of cum still linked the two of them.

“It was a pleasant experience.” The woman said, grabbing Julian’s limp cock and caressing it back to life. “Maybe you would care for an exchange program?”

The tattoo artist gave pleasant screams while Ari greedily devoured her.

“We will see,” Julian gasped, “We still have the week ahead of us, Mistress,” Julian said and knelt in front of his boss.

“And she still has to serve many others.” His Mistress added, watching Ari bring the tattoo artist to an orgasm.

As Ariana recovered from the fogginess and noticed the scene surrounding her, with a pussy on her tongue, she knew she was going to enjoy the corporate retreat a lot. If her Master or Mistress allowed her.

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Heroes: Sweet or Shite? - Part 1: SILVER

There are some heroes I like. And there are some heroes I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a series in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the heroes in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves over the course of time. Two things to keep in mind:

1. These reviews will be focusing mainly on game portrayals. Though alternate media will occasionally be mentioned, it'll be for the sake of adding onto a point if a portrayal is similar enough, or to compare and contrast if a portrayal is different enough.

2. These are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, I decided to challenge myself by starting off with a complicated one. Born from the future, and never content to stay put in said future, it's the saviour whose debut came from the most unfortunate game... Silver the Hedgehog.

The Gist: Once upon a time, in the distant future, there was an idealistic young hedgehog named Silver, gifted with the power of telekinesis for reasons unknown. With his amazing potential, he was truly destined for a wonderful, prosperous li-just kidding, it was shit.

“All two of us.”

For as long as he knew, the world was forever plagued by Iblis, the terrible Flames of Disaster. Cities stood in ruin, flames stood high, the floor was lava... it was a bitter life to be certain, all thanks to Iblis. Not even defeating the titular creature did much good, since it would simply come back to be a shitty boss fight another day. What was he - and his friend, Blaze, a character we definitely never saw before and definitely didn't have a completely different backstory before - to do?

Trust the first person he sees, of course. Even if they look like they might be related to the same Flames of Disaster that he fights so constantly.

If he had eyelids, he'd be winking at the camera.

This mysterious fellow, Mephiles the Dark, informed Silver that if he were to wipe out Iblis for real, he would need to take a trip into the past, and eliminate the root of the problem... Sonic the Hedgehog? That was what Mephiles claimed, yes. What was his proof? There was no proof.

That was good enough for Silver.

Oh look, it's Fleetway Sonic.

After an elaborate series of events, which should sound exciting but really isn't because it was just Silver going “Iblis Trigger grrr” in varying tones of voice, he was finally able to corner the blue hedgehog... twice! And despite having less fighting know-how than the hero who saved the world plenty of times, he effortlessly came close to killing the blue hedgehog... twice!

This looks like a jobbing for...

Why twice? The first time was halted by Sonic's friend Amy Rose, who Silver had met beforehand after she mistook him for Sonic, an understandable mistake that even the keenest of eyes would be forgiven for making.

The second time was also interrupted, this time by Shadow the Hedgehog. There's only room for one controversial non-blue male hedgehog in this franchise, sonny boy. Actually, his reasons were more benevolent than that: he wanted to show Silver the truth about what was going on, by time travelling to the incident that gave birth to Iblis. Why was one able to to this, so long as more than one Chaos Emerald was present? No one knew.

That was good enough for Silver.

“I challenge you to a dumb-off.”

As it turned out, Iblis was one half of a sun god called Solaris, the other half being the aforementioned Mephiles. The Duke of Soleanna wanted to reunite with his late wife by harnessing Solaris' power, which succeeded from a certain point of view since he's dead now too. The resulting blunder split Solaris into two halves. One half was all brawn, with little capacity for intelligence. The other half was Iblis.

Understanding the error of his ways, and after making peace with Sonic, Silver went back to the future to try something different, which consisted of doing the same thing he always did. Luckily for him, the script decided it would work this time, albeit at the cost of Blaze sacrificing herself... Maybe? Sort of? It’s not entirely clear what happened to her, and it’s not like this was the last we ever saw of her.

~La laaaaaa, la laaaaaa, la laaaaaa, heading to a better game, la laaaaaa~

But ohhhhh nooooo, turns out THAT didn't solve anything either! In the present, Sonic was killed by Mephiles, after the latter realised he should probably do that already if he wanted to make any progress at all with his plan. This incident led to Iblis being brought into the present, and they fused to become the omnipotent Solaris once more. Such power... such divinity... such devastation...

Actually, he was really easy. The antlion from Underground Zone was harder.

Manchild robots - 1, god of time - 0.

With their super forms in tow, Silver, Shadow, and the revived Sonic joined forces to defeat Solaris, with Sonic in particular going the extra step in retconning Solaris out of existence entirely. Since time itself reset, meaning Iblis was no longer a memory, Silver's timeline was given a second chance. What was he to look forward to in this new, promising future?

Shit.

The Design: Let's take a closer look at Silver's appearance, shall we?

Or rather, a certain thing that's wrong with it.

He's holding up fifteen fingers.

Yes, you all know what I'm pointing to: the hairstyle. Let it be known that I'm very aware of the intention behind this design choice. It's supposed to be based on the Japanese Red Maple Leaf, which holds a lot of relevant symbolism for Silver's character. This is a fine idea in theory, and I can respect the intent and the creativity.

But here's the thing: If it looks like a ganja leaf, people are going to say it looks like a ganja leaf. I know some fans will gnash their teeth at me saying this, but the fact of the matter is that intentions and ideas, no matter how good they may be on paper, don't always translate well into the final product. Unleashed Secret Rings Black Knight Sonic '06 in general is certainly no stranger to showcasing examples of that, and Silver's hairstyle is no exception. There are ways to incorporate symbolism in a character’s design without making them look like meme bait in the process, and no amount of “umm ackshually” will change that, I'm afraid.

That said, there's another reason why I'm staying clean of Silver marijuana: it doesn't work for a hedgehog character. With the other hedgehogs, their hairstyles are simple and get the point across: Sonic's goes without saying, Shadow's is more angular to befit a slightly rougher hero, and Amy's is a cute bob cut of sorts. But Silver? Even without the ganja, you've still got the two tentacles making up the back of his head.

I'd rather not be reminded of hentai quills, thanks.

“I thought Crusher-san would like it :’(”

I do find it hilarious that they went through numerous designs for Silver, and this was what they chose to go with. Some of his prototype designs may have fared better had any of them been used instead... but we didn't end up with any of those ones. We ended up with this one, therefore I'm judging this one.

But don’t worry, it’s not all bad with Silver...

The Personality: As far as actual character goes, Silver's personality is as straightfoward as most characters in the series, yet it's no less interesting, because it took a while for it to fully evolve to what it currently is. The seeds of his character - a good-natured yet awkward and rather insecure kind of guy, who doesn't fully understand how the present time works - have always been there, but it was often downplayed in earlier titles due to him being hungry for Iblis Trigger blood... or being an arsehole for no reason.

Although to be fair, everyone in Rivals is an arsehole for no reason.

Eventually though, after the writers gave him a Snickers, these traits got more opportunity to shine. Mostly in side media admittedly, but it's been noted in the games as well. With no Iblis to angst over, he's proven to be a surprisingly bubbly chap, who just wants to know how you're all doing, fellow anthro kids. And whereas his naivety was previously used for intended tragedy to benefit the evil plan of a guy who thought taking the -istoph- out of Mephistopheles would make him inconspicuous, now it's been used for a bunch of low-key contexts that do a much better job at endearing him to the player.

Finally, something I can relate to.

Hell, he even seems to have learned from the Mephiles incident, as he was quick to make it clear to the next shadowy deep-voiced anthro with demonic eyes he met that he wasn't gonna fall for any of them fibs no more, ya hear?

“YouTube and Twitter don’t count.”

All in all, it works well enough, in my opinion. His personality does pave the way for some funny and wholesome moments, and since they’re no longer trying to build him up like he’s Shadow 2.0, he's nowhere near as much of a tool as he was before. So I guess you could say... I like it?

Does this mean I can say that I like the character as a whole then, design and '06-induced idiocy aside?

Well, not quite...

The Execution: This is where the complication part comes into play. We know now that I like his personality, not so much his design, but that's only the half of it. It would be more accurate to say that I like his personality... and dislike everything else.

Aside from that, obviously.

For starters, the creation process for his character and story was summed up with, in their own words, “Think Trunks from Dragon Ball Z”. So he comes off as rather lazy and uninspired. Now I'm not expecting my Sonic characters to be 100% unique, there's always going to be similarities to other franchises no matter what you do, even if subconsciously or by complete coincidence. Taking inspiration in itself is no big deal at all.

But... was that it? Copying a DBZ character to such a blatant extent? Was there no other thought put into it?

Naturally, this ties into an overarching problem: the franchise's mid-00's habit of trying way too hard to be the anthro Dragon Ball Z. Sonic has had DBZ influences since the early days, with the Chaos Emeralds and Super Sonic, but it didn't assimilate itself into every waking aspect of his universe. It was merely an additional flavor that added to the complete package, in the same way that a Death Star with a moustache didn't mean the franchise was suddenly Star Wars the Hedgehog.

But come the turn of the millenium, nearly every main title in the series ended with Super Sonic and/or Super Shadow saving the day, while everyone else either stood around being useless, or only helping in ways that no one actually cares about. Including the in-universe President apparently, since only Sonic and Shadow were featured in the photo on his desk.

Amy smiled. “I guess the rest of us can go fuck ourselves, huh?”

This reached its peak with - of course - Sonic '06, with Silver in particular being an obvious result of this then-ongoing trend. And yes, it would be unfair to use him as a scapegoat, considering it was already a problem long before he turned up. But moreso than even Shadow, it's an era that Silver is forever a relic of, for better or for worse.

But it doesn't stop there. Since Silver is considered a mainstay character, his gimmick of being from the future also creates problems of its own, because in order for him to make further appearances, he keeps turning up for little explained reason, and thus he suffers the Deadly Six problem of being shoved into places where he doesn't belong, for fanservice's own sake. Take Sonic Colours DS for example, where he went back in time JUST to check out Eggman's theme park... Okay...?

On one hand, I’d visit it too, since it's made by Eggman. On the other hand, I’d stay clear of it, since it's made by Eggman.

And when there IS a justification with more weight to it? It's just recycling the '06 routine of trying to avert his ruined future, which isn't much better. The cause may differ depending on the story, but if his future is a permanent shitehole for one reason or another, he might as well cut out the middle man and stay in the present altogether, since that's where his friends are anyway. But they seem intent on not doing that, despite the future schtick being a noose around his neck at this point.

In hindsight, maybe this was a hint to how the rest of the arc would turn out.

And then there's his dynamic with a certain purple cat... No, not Big. The other one.

“I’m here, by the way.”

Simply put: I don't like this dynamic. At all. Or rather, I don't like how they keep milking it. Blaze's backstory was radically changed to justify her presence in Silver's future, and it really shows, since she barely even shows up half the time, as if the developers themselves forgot she was in the game. But her backstory has since been restored to her original alternate dimension interpretation, so hanging around with the grey hedgehog is all good now, right?

To be brutally honest, I probably wouldn't care for this dynamic regardless. But I would be more willing to tolerate it, and I'd refrain from groaning every time they're seen together... if they weren't intent on playing it up so much in spite of '06 being wiped out, sometimes with a bit of commentary involving their thoughts and memories, which only succeeds at making things more confusing. If Blaze is around, Silver will be nearby, and if he's not at first, he will be soon enough. This franchise does have a problem in general with restricting who's allowed to interact with who (I personally believe Sonic Heroes may have led to this, or at least it accelerated it), but I'd argue it's at its most insufferable here, with Blaze's potential and her entire world taking a backseat to being the sidekick of Ganja Man.

And you might say “Well, it's part of the franchise now, so you'll just have to accept it”. To which I ask: Have you accepted Two Worlds? Have you accepted Solo Sonica? Have you accepted Sonic's friends not doing much as of late?

Yeah. That's what I thought. “It’s just how it is” doesn’t mean you can’t criticise it.

Meanwhile, Marine is lucky enough to get so much as a shout out.

So yeah, I have quite an extensive list of grievances involving poor Silver. But... very little of it has to do with him, right? They're all indirect problems that he just so happens to be linked to, as opposed to someone like Chris Thorndyke, who is genuinely a shit character through and through. This is more comparable to Tails being bitchy in Lost World, or Amy being manipulative in Chronicles, or Sonic being a smug dumbass in IDW, or Shadow not wearing a Hawaiian shirt in Boom. Frustrating, regrettable, but not really the character's own fault.

Yet even after all that, there's one last kick in the teeth... How do you fix all this? And how do you fix it when he's since gained a sizable fandom, many of whom like him for these very attributes? If you leave it as it is, you're stuck with this big, awkward mess that everyone pretends to ignore. If you try to do something about it, you'll get complaints about disrespecting the True Silver Spirit, and you’ll get questions about why you didn't create a new character instead... And if you did use a new character for the sake of a clean slate, THEN you'd get complaints about not using Silver.

It's a tough call to be sure, and it's such a shame because like I said, I do appreciate his personality, so I can't say he's bad outright. But with all this... clutter, I can only put him in the average category. So, in he goes.

Crusher Gives Silver a: Thumbs Sideways!

Well, I'm glad this one's out of the way. Putting my thoughts into words with Silver was harder than it should have been. I do slightly regret starting this series off on a rather downer note, but rest assured, it's a lot more positive from this point onwards, since while I have higher praise for some heroes more than others, the hero characters as a whole fare a lot better than the majority of villains not named Eggman.

I guess you could say that I hope to show why Sonic's friends aren't as shitty as the haters would suggest. ;)

[thesleepy1]

Spearmint Tea With A Teaspoon Of Milk And A Dash Of Honey

Tik Tok Writing Prompt

A/N: I saw this prompt on Tik Tok and have been thinking about it none stop for the past three days. I just had to write it. It may make no sense, but that's fine. I enjoyed the writing process for once. Completely unbeta'd because I'm lazy and this was written in a hurry before it left my mind. If you see any mistakes please let me know.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdVg7jBL/

Pairings: No pairings

Summary: “You have been an immortal for a couple of centuries now. Today, you’re enjoying a drink at a nearby cafe, when someone approaches you and says, “Hey, remember me? Peru, 1821?”

Word count: 2,578

Warnings: mature, suggestive themes, wump, angst, derealizion, mentions of depression, more warnings to be added,

You have been an immortal for a couple of centuries now; if not more. After a certain set of rotations around the sun, you hardly bothered to keep track of exactly how many times you’ve been around the block. You were something of a myth, a feared, terrified, creature of torn legend, a monster that stole little weaning babes from their mother’s arms and spun silver out of corn! A beast that ate beating livers from stray canines, ordered temples to be built out of bones, a ghastly creation by a bored god with too much time on his irreligious hands. Frightful!

All this hearsay and word of the street, were tall and monstrous tales that were overrated in your educated opinion, when simply you required very little to be content with the ways and whims of the vast, wanton world. No new born lamb’s blood or poor, ill timed virgins sacrifices were necessary in your, for lack of a better word, creation. You were merely one breathing thing and then the next; though you’ve fallen out of the habit of remembering to breathe after a while. There was no shedding of skin, sweat producing prayer, or historically inaccurate rain dance that resembled the pirouettes of toeless ballerinas involved. You just were, and quite frankly, isn’t that enough? Existence is never enough is it, though? You just had to think, and speak, and do much more than simply exist; because no one can be happy with the mere existence of another; there just had to be more to it, had to be.

You still vaguely recall the moment where you realized that you were no longer tied down to the laws of the cycle of the unnatural thing called life; a thing like a dream someone else had and merely inflicted you with the useless knowledge. Still having no need for surplus of red blood cells or hastily made offerings of sweets to the traumatized gods; you recalled the transition and the fact that it was a boring process, with no set of rules, or instructions, or any way for you to fully understand exactly what happened. From one form of existence to a new one, like a crawling larvae to a flying insect with big beady eyes and a habit of crashing into windows.

You were in a battle field one moment fighting tooth and nail with a long sword, or a bow and arrow, or a scythe from your own garden, or a hatchet from your home; and the next, you watched your substantially short life flash before your eyes; when ebbingly, you realized that your wounds had closed up and the battle had unbeknown to you, ended. Something over nineteen years after your self assumed death, that is. Your body; with its two legs, two arms, two ears, and two perfectly functioning eyes; as long as it wasn’t pollen season, were still by fair means or foul, in tack. Much to your dismay, for you still felt cursed plague such as irritation, displeasurement, the action of rolling your eyes as an emotion, annoyance, exasperation, and worst of all a hankering for spearmint tea with a teaspoon of milk and a dash of honey. Unfortunately, only one of which was curable.

And while you contained a great many vapid opinions of the flutterings of wingless avians; one of their creations you could never develop a disdain for, for they were simply far too grand, great, and good, were cafes. Magnificent things created by an italian man, a french man, a german man, an Englishman, or a combination of the four, you hardly cared; were the very reason you still wished to see the light of day. Candidly, the comfort that came with cafes; roasting coffee beans with such sharp and acidic aromas, the tinkering of ceramic mugs with adorable little glazes, scrumptious sweeties and colorful pasties that settled against your mind like ringing gunshots to war torn innocent unimpeachables. Cafes were just delightful, there were no two ways about it; an unassailable fact.

That was why, today; sunny, cloudless, and boundless today with skies as blue as incest mutated eyes, you were enjoying a nostalgic drink at a nearby cafe. The coffee house was a mix between modern and vintage, though for a creature such as yourself, you could hardly tell the difference. Their teas and coffees, and assortment of beverages were made in the classic fashion from even as far back as your day, and that was saying something. The walls were painted with a deep maroon, a shade of fine wine on a brick of vinegar; except one, which was left a bare, textured concrete with growing vines and dangling fairy lights the color of loose leaf chamomile offering a soothing dim lighting. The tables and chairs and any sort of decor hung up on the ways were mismatched, not one thing belonging to another; not one round mahogany table with spanish carved to the legs matched with any neon cushioned seats that looked like something from a feverish dream. Four paned windows were like eyes towards the street front, small enough to see outside but with an air of privacy from the delicate handmade lace curtains that were tied up with a sash of the same design. You could see the wayward world beyond the door from the faux safety of your table; couples biking with helmets strapped on too tightly, dog walkers with malnourished dogs, and a quartet of friends that were so obviously in love with one another.

Their love for each other was so clear, the baristas behind the repurposed bar counter were making bets on who would be the first to cave and spill out their love like guts from a deep heat, blistering sword wound. The barista with dyed gray cornrows and nose piercings betted ten pounds on the tallest of the quartet, who couldn’t stop playing with something in his pocket; a nervous reaction to being around the people of his affections if you had to guess. The barista with the rigid scars falling like uncrossed tallies down her arms betted twenty pounds on the shortest of the quartet who seemed to be the glue holding the quartet together in the first place. You personally betted on the fellow trailing the group from behind, a brother of one of the quartet members; from the shared features, and an ex lover of another if you had to predict from the way he walked and looked at them with an unhealthy yearning. He was going to pull them apart and in return be left with nothing as they rebuilt what he had destroyed. You had an intuition for these sorts of things, the passing lives of strangers and what they decided to do with themselves with their limited time. It was game to you, their lives seemed to end in days like a good book that you can’t set down; and like a book, you could flip it close at any given time with a flick of your wrist.

Your attention was drawn back to the present by the sound of the cafe bell that rang out through the small room with high ceilings, the simple pulley system alerting the baristas and yourself of a new occupant. Your hand instinctively wrapped around your cup of spearmint tea with a teaspoon of milk and a dash of honey protectively. The heated ceramic warmed your otherwise cold skin, your whole body was icy to the touch; you had no need for impractical things like a respiratory system or body heat; they were merely things you did when you remembered to, a delayed afterthought.

Like socialization for one, speaking to others was not your cup of tea; quick compliments and orders were one thing, however holding conversations were another. You sat alone at your seat, a red velvet cushioned sofa pulled up against a square oak table. Not once have you attempted to make conversation or even make eye contact with any of your fellow cafe goers; when you know for a fact that you would have gotten along swimmingly, only you’re too afraid of starting anything that’s doomed to end. The immortal existence was a long one and it tended to feel more drawn out when you had no one to spend it with.

Too deep in thoughts; the depressing thing the living chose to lose themselves in; a subject that you have yet to be rid of, you didn’t notice when someone approached your table. Whoever stood in front of you stared at you for a moment as if to make sure you were real, something you had to do for yourself every now and again, before saying in an astonished tone full of life, “Hey, you look familiar. I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I?” You looked up to meet their eyes; taking note of a face that could blend in during any time period, during any moment; a dime a dozen, a face that could be recognized for hundreds of others. “Remember me? Peru, 1821?”

You were hard of memory despite the centuries of existence in your pocket; unable to ever recall important dates and places, or those deemed important by those who still pondered what after truly meant. No wars that had cost thousands if not millions of lives lingered in your narrow mind, no treaties that had never been written in the blood of the man holding the pen; no discoveries stolen from their true inventors and instead repurposed and rebranded. Naught of which mattered; were paramount enough to be stored in the file cabinets so old, they perhaps predated the university of oxford. Those with an expiration date, nitpicked which dates and places were worth keeping record of; which war really mattered to one side, but not the other, and most definitely not the third party who lost the most in terms of wealth during the whole skirmish. Which treaties were worth putting up an act of righteousness and which were lit to ashes the moment the feather left the parchment. Which discoveries to credit the inventor, or the distributor, or the man with the large enough pockets with lots of loyal friends with not quite, but still ever so deep pockets. You cared little for the whims of those who philosophized and wrote the inaccurate, hyperbolized tales of the lawless, anarchic children with graying hair, wrinkled skin, and groaning bones.

Instead, your quite narrow, yet wrinkled mind remembered the seemingly dull things in life that only an immortal and tired soul would recall. You remembered the estonian woman with thick curly hair who flustered when you commented on how her fetching silk blouse brought out the brown in her eyes, as if you had just seen her on your way here. You remembered the blazing, aged guinean sailor with hair as red as sedimentary clay layered with crimson and bone marrow, who tricked you out of the very last shining coin in your pocket that you had saved to return to the mainland; as if you had just spoken to him the week before last. You remembered the french street performers who gave you the most complexing, suspicious looks when you loitered as they tuned their instruments, your hands clapping and tossing coins into their open cases before they had even the chance to play their trip the light fantastic ditty; as if you had spotted them as you left your home for the day; perhaps because you had just spotted the cellist, violinist, and fiddler some hours prior.

But you just can’t seem to recall ever seeing the face in front of you besides that of the paintings reusing the same model over and over again. This person was familiar, that you knew for sure, but you couldn’t recall exactly where. 1821? Peru? You had gone to Peru before, you thought, you must’ve been everyone on the pandering planet at least once by now; statistically speaking. You existed during 1821, though you don’t recall much from the time besides some man being crowned king of some small islands, some paintings being painted, some lives being born, and some lives taking their last breath. Things that could have happened anywhere else in the woebegone world, during any time that your breathing counterparts inhaled and exhaled; a simple date and simple country rang no bells.

This person that approached you, must have known you, having recognized you and walked up to you free of will. Yet, as you stared at them, pondering how they must’ve known you after all these years, decades, and centuries without a mere mention of another immortal roaming the weak world; here you were, with another person just like you. It was astonishing, made your non beating heart skip a beat and stop again; because you’ve been so out of practice. It was almost unbelievable; a person with a limited mind would have fallen heart first into the claims and thought of them as gospel. You were not as blessed with the same ignorance that came as second nature to the rest of the parasitic population, because you recalled your trips to Peru; suddenly remembering just what you got yourself into in the year of 1821; you would have memorized a face like dozens of others; the similarities causing the sameness to be abstract. You would not have forgotten a face like that, a voice of naïve wonderment like the one you just heard. Immortality was not just something that was thrown like a swear, caught like a flu; there was no rhyme or reason to it. You would know; in the almost eight billion people in the wide, withering world you have not met another like you, and for this day, today; radiated, and diaphanous day with skies as blue as hypothermia stricken bodies; you were alone and had yet, still yet, to be proven otherwise.

You solemnly shook your head, having gotten your hopes up so far beyond the atmosphere; falling back down was misery like the first moment immortality had dawned upon you. This person must’ve mistaken you for someone else; a picture book with pages too bright to warrant your attention, a history book that pictured a person that shared your features or that of your long gone siblings who must have children because they were the type to yearn, and hope, dream, and live their lives instead of solely subsist; anyone but you. For you were alone on this endless path, just like how your life was now boundless, and had been for a while longer than you can remember. You cleared your throat, your voice unfortunately grating from years of hardly any use; hoping to make the interaction quick and to the point; something that was truthful and that would cut this painful conversation short so you could return to your envy filled hobby of assuming other individual’s lives because they had indisputable ends while you repeated in this endless pastime.

The person who claimed to share a curse with you, had a voice that rang out like a fencing rapier, cutting through the air with such precision that it hurt without even slashing against you; could stab you with words instead of metal, “I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I? Remember me? Peru, 1821?” And like a fencer running on the necessity for revenge for someone that wasn’t himself, you answered,

“No, I do gay porn.”

[pennamesmith]

Secret of the Skeletor

Skeletor sneaks out. Some less-prominent former members of the Horde receive community outreach. More Skeletor stories! 

*

Skeletor sat alone in the laboratory.

He had strict orders not to go anywhere or do anything. As one of Horde Prime’s drone bots, he knew the importance of rules. But ever since Entrapta had reprogrammed him with a name and a unique personality, he also knew the importance of breaking them.

Skeletor chuckled. He stood up, paused, then sat back down again and laughed some more as he pondered his options.

Just about everybody else in Bright Moon was busy. Even Wrong Hordak’s usual support group was canceled while he attended the queen’s cabinet meeting about Entrapta’s new interdimensional research findings.

This meant it was the perfect time for Skeletor to venture outside the kingdom. A community outreach day. He grinned. Pausing only to giggle again and leash his beloved robot puppy, Relay, Skeletor snatched up Darla’s ignition crystal and shambled out the door.

“Now for a little vanishing act!” he declared as he left.

It was going to be a good day.

*

Kyle braced himself as soon as he heard the ship engines come to a stop outside the window.

“Hey, guys?” he called to the other two inhabitants of their modest home. “I think —”

He was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood. “Strong, but not strong enough!” Skeletor yelled as he cheerfully kicked in the door. Rogelio, who had been going to open it, bristled in shock while Lonnie yelped and grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen, brandishing it like a club from behind the counter.

A long, stale moment passed.

“...It’s all part of the game!” Skeletor explained apologetically, as he turned and tried to replace the door on its hinges. “We don’t want to hurt anyone!” At his feet, Relay peered inside the room and barked, tail wagging.

All three of the former Horde soldiers relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, though Lonnie’s battle-ready expression did not change.

“Do you really have to do that every time you come over?” Kyle asked, poking at the loosely swinging door.

“Yes,” Skeletor replied honestly.

Rogelio shrugged and growled something indistinct.

Lonnie quirked an eyebrow. “What? You asked him to come here?”

“We both did,” Kyle piped up. He reached for Rogelio’s hand in reassurance. “We… kinda wanted to get some more information on Wrong Hordak’s support group.”

Dutifully, Skeletor produced a sheaf of pamphlets and papers detailing schedules and services and handed them over to the two young men. Rogelio accepted them all with a brief roar of thanks.

Lonnie shook her head, still frowning. “Oh no. I already told you, I am not interested. Going over there for wellness day was one thing, but there are too many people there that I still just… can’t be around. And he’s nice and all, but I don’t think Wrong Hordak really gets me.”

“Running away. So impolite!” Skeletor scoffed.

“That’s okay!” Kyle hastily added. “You don’t have to come with us. We’d never force you into something like this.”

“Running away sounds like a terrific idea!” Skeletor said.

Kyle looked at Rogelio. “It’s just, we’ve been talking, and I think we want to give it a try. Even if it doesn’t work out, we might be able to learn some stuff that could help. Taking the first step can be really hard, even when it’s the right thing. And we’ll be here if you decide you’re ready, but we’ll be here if you don’t, too.”

Lonnie’s expression softened, slightly. “Thanks guys,” she said, and meant it. She went to hug the other two. “Now, let’s see about making this robot fix our door.” She pounded a fist into her palm meaningfully.

“I think it’s time for me to leave and take care of another matter!” Skeletor squeaked, and beat a hasty retreat.

*

Darla hovered serenely above the water on the Salinean coast. While Relay napped in the captain’s chair, Skeletor strolled unhurriedly along the docks. He stopped in front of a small, shabby storefront and looked curiously at the sign above the door.

Sea Hawk’s Ship Disposal and Firewood Emporium, it read. You Crash ‘Em, We Burn ‘Em!

“I think I’ll make him my court jester, if he’s funny enough!” Skeletor proclaimed, and walked inside.

However, it was instantly apparent from the lack of off-key sea shanties being sung that the shop’s namesake proprietor was currently absent. This suited the skinny robot just fine. The real subject of his visit was the new part-time hire, who sat slouched at the register behind a gossip-scroll and an eyepatch.

Octavia brightened when she saw Skeletor enter. “Hey, I was wondering when you’d make it back here!” she called out. Skeletor waved in response and marched over, holding out a laden bag.

“I’ve brought you a present!” Skeletor announced.

Octavia’s good eye shone as she reached inside and pulled out a glittering, silver fishing net. “Oh, wow, Entrapta finished it already!” she gushed, holding the netting up to the light to admire it.

“That net is made of elastium!” Skeletor boasted. “It’s not only one of the hardest substances in the universe, it also stretches!”

“Hey, thanks for helping me commission this,” Octavia said, looking back. She smiled wistfully. “Entrapta really was the best part of the Horde when we were all there, you know? She was so nice to everyone, and Hordak was loads calmer, and all our maintenance complaints got fixed practically overnight!”

“That’s just peachy for you!” Skeletor said.

“Plus, it kinda took some of the sting out of having to take orders from the kid who did this when we were six,” Octavia added, gesturing to her eyepatch. “I had ambitions, you know? I was the first of our class to make Force Captain. I was going places! Of course, none of that matters anymore.”

Her sour expression melted as she looked back at the new net. “But that won’t stop me! With this I can make some extra money on the side selling seafood. Then I’ll buy this place from Sea Hawk — honestly, I think he forgets he owns it sometimes — and turn it into a crafting and antique shop, Octopus Cove or Mystic Isle or something. After that I’ll take over all the shops on the dock one by one, and then the beach tourism market will be mine! Ha ha!”

She cackled with evil glee. Skeletor joined in, politely.

“Too bad about the others, but at least I escaped!” Skeletor concluded, and left to continue his mission.

*

“Beast-Man!” Skeletor sang as the door opened.

“I still don’t know who that is, but it’s good to see you again too,” Grizzlor grinned. “Come on in, buddy!”

Skeletor followed the wolffish giant inside while Relay trotted happily at his heels. Grizzlor’s husband, fellow former Horde Commander Cobalt, was relaxing in their living room and waved when he saw the bot.

“Skeletor! How’ve you been?”

“Sitting down on the job?” Skeletor barked. “I’ll help you, if only to be rid of you!” He offered Cobalt a thick folder of paperwork. “Here, here it is!”

Cobalt accepted the folder reverentially. “Really? I knew it was a long shot asking Hordak for help, but all the red tape was getting to be such a nightmare that I just didn’t know what to do anymore.” He sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re crying for Hordak?” Skeletor huffed. “I don’t believe it!”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Grizzlor admitted. “I mean, I always thought Hordak hated me,” he added sheepishly. “Especially after that thing with the two neckties.”

Cobalt shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think Hordak ever really hated anybody. He just didn’t know what to do with anyone. Now, Shadow Weaver on the other hand…”

“Most unpleasant!” Skeletor muttered.

“Exactly. But I think Hordak did care, in his own way. He saw how scared we were of combat during the early days, in the Scorpion uprising. I think that’s why he kept me teaching the cadets and you on the easy patrols, Grizz.”

Grizzlor chuckled. “Aw, I can’t imagine you being scared of anything, big guy!”

“Oh, I wasn’t always like this!” Cobalt demurred, flexing his shoulders. “Back in my cadet days I was so skinny everyone called me ‘Mantenna’! Used to joke that I’d fall through a crack in the floor if I wasn’t careful.”

“Another piece of the puzzle!” said Skeletor.

Cobalt slung an arm around Grizzlor. “But listen, Horde or no, I’ll always be there for you.” He held up the adoption papers Skeletor had delivered. “And now, we might have something else to protect together.”

*

Skeletor’s last stop was a recently-refurbished tavern just inside the Crimson Waste. He nodded approvingly at the osseous architecture and then pushed his way through the curtain while Relay ran ahead, yapping.

Inside there was a wide, smoky space filled with outlaws and ruffians of every species imaginable. They all turned to look as Skeletor entered.

“That’s it! Kneel before your new master!” Skeletor bellowed.

Everyone immediately went back to what they had been doing. The chatter and plinky piano music returned. Relay found a small lizard and began to chase it around the floor.

“Skeletor! It’s good to see you back, friend!”

An enormous purple hand clapped the robot on the shoulder. Skeletor looked up into the smiling face of a towering barbarian.

“Can I get you anything?” Huntara asked, conversationally. “Minions to yell at? A ribcage chair to sit in?”

“Unnecessary! Because we’ve already found you!” Skeletor replied.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that. Zed! Sunder!” Huntara called out. Two Horde clones who were staffing the bar — one seeming slightly shorter than the typical clone brother, and the other a bit older and wrinklier — glanced up at the sound of their names and hurried over.

“Keep an eye on the door, willya? I need to talk to bonehead here for a bit. We’ve got… business to discuss.”

The two clones nodded seriously, and Huntara escorted Skeletor to a secretive back room behind the bar. Inside there were many potted cacti, two comfortable chairs, and a little table with a miniature sand garden on top. It had a tiny, handheld rake for making soothing patterns in the sand.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Huntara sighed in relief, dropping into one of the chairs. Relay jumped into her lap and she patted his head gratefully. “I have so much to talk about! You know how last time I was telling you about Grox and all the things she was saying to me? Well…”

“Easy, don’t overexert yourself! It’ll only cause you to weaken more quickly,” Skeletor cautioned. He settled into the other chair and leaned forward, listening intently.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to, Huntara said. “I don’t feel comfortable in big groups and I can’t always open up to the people around here. So thanks for stopping by.”

Skeletor nodded. “I’m right here, old friend! Release the shadow beast!”

A weight seemed to leave Huntara’s shoulders. “All right. Now, like I was saying…”

*

Long after the stars had come out, the laboratory door finally swung open again. Entrapta and Hordak, looking exhausted but accomplished, strode inside with their arms full of rolled-up diagrams and data sheets from that day’s presentation.

“...And they listened to everything I said!” Entrapta exclaimed as they came in. “I can’t remember the last time anybody besides you paid attention to me for that long. It was kinda scary, but it felt kinda good, too!”

“They were fools if they never attended to you before,” Hordak purred, smiling proudly. “And I cannot imagine they would disregard you now. After all, you are talking about the prospect of rescuing —”

“Sounds like we’ve got company!” Skeletor interrupted, welcoming the couple back to the lab. He was sitting, hands primly folded, in exactly the same spot as he had been when they left. “I’ve been expecting you!”

“Oh. Hello, Skeletor,” Hordak sighed, reluctantly looking away from Entrapta. “Did you follow my instructions to stay put today?”

Skeletor crossed his fingers and nodded.

“Did you follow my instructions?” Entrapta whispered, after Hordak had gone on ahead. Skeletor nodded again, much more enthusiastically this time.

“Good robot!” Entrapta replied, with a wink and a smile. “Thanks for helping out!” Then she scampered away to keep up with her lab partner.

“Ha! My plan has worked perfectly!” Skeletor gloated. “Now I have the power!”

[unnamedelement]

even the WORDS studio ghibli steampunk inspired 4th age au is intriguing to me - I’d love to hear more about it!

I am so pleased you asked and I will talk about it forever. Basically, the idea is just something I write on--a paragraph or two here or there--when I'm feeling down and need a pick-me-up, though I haven't done so since May now as I've been so busy! It's set in a 4th Age Middle-earth in which all the basic things are the same, except that the technology advanced slightly differently, as if every major cultural and intellectual hub in history hadn't been wiped out in the first two ages. I mean, they have been, but the ideas were revisited and propagated instead. Which puts us in a bit of a steam era, a bit more modern warfare, I suppose (I imagine it as, like, Legend of Korra equivalent technology, but subtracting the radio broadcasting). I call it Studio Ghibli inspired because, in my head, thats the way its "animated," with similar color palettes to, say, Howls' Moving Castle, My Neighbor Totoro, and Spirited Away. The same sort of observational attention to detail, but not overwrought, and an air of the magical in the every day... It's really just a domestic sort of thing, with an added twist of the Straight Road being shut for purposes that aren't entirely clear to me yet but, somehow, tie into the technological aspect. It, at least, explains to me why the elves are so goddamn committed to technology and Middle-earth in the 4th age, in this universe, in a way that aren't in non-AUs because, well, Tolkien. The lore of this ridiculous sandbox is only very slowly evolving, but giving elves unresolvable sealonging is a certain type of hurt/comfort that is highly attractive to me. Whoops. And it is Legolas- and OC-focused, of course, because that's just who I am as a person. There is also a university in Minas Tirith because I say so, and because I need to project my woes about academia somewhere, but I try to justify this to myself by tying it into that preservation and propogation of knowledge aspect. Anyway, that was way more than you asked for! Ah well. Here is the first scene I ever wrote in this AU, because I've never actually shared it publicly, I don't think. I believe @roselightfairy has been the only one privy to my nonsensical AU drafts thus far! I usually just ramble about it in tags, but you caught me this time, ha. Thanks again for asking!

Legolas twisted the ring on his index finger distractedly as he waited for the train. It had been a long day in Minas Tirith and he was ready to return to Ithilien, to take in the rolling plains that edged the river as they flew past, for it was always only then that he could reflect, in uninterrupted silence, without hobbit tourists at his heels or the accidental shove of an impatient lady in the shops.

There were too many people in Minas Tirith for Legolas. Accordingly, and much to Aragorn and Gimli’s chagrin, it was not his favorite place.

But they understood, and that was all he could ask. He tried to schedule all of the city errands on the same day or two, because longer than thirty-six continuous hours in Minas Tirith and he became an absolute nightmare with which to coexist. For the most part, his friends and family had accepted this and he was trying, after all, but that did not make it any less obnoxious for the rest of them.

It did not help that the only place in Gondor with Sealonging-certified healers was on the fourth level of the city. A wildly insensitive choice, in his opinion, though he kept that perspective well enough to himself after Ithildim and Gimli had tried to advocate, a few years before, for the relocation of the clinic to the Healing Houses on the Sixth, in a string of rejected proposals at City Council.

Gimli would not look at Aragorn for a month after that, and so Legolas had quit his whingeing and suffered in silence the abrupt buffeting that occurred in the busy streets after his appointments. He made it his own prerogative to schedule at the end of the day so he could spend the morning with enough wherewithal to do his errands and take care of whatever sundry things he had managed to commit himself to. It kept him relatively sane and it kept his friends on speaking terms and, so, that is what he did. (And it was not as if any of them had control over the West-way being shut, so there was no point in any of them falling out over it.)

Legolas heard the heavy-huffing of the train approaching long before its lights rounded the bend of the river. He preferred to walk to the stop at the Docks than get on at the Gates because it gave his mind time to settle. Waiting that close to the river after therapy was, perhaps, not his brightest idea, but the pros outweighed the cons and what Ithildim didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Besides, it was Summer, and the cattails were up again all around the station, and a family of osprey had made the light pole by the river their nest, and it did lift his spirits to watch these things alone as the world moved on about him...

A few more people rushed the small platform as the rumbling of the train on its little steel bridge above the banks increased. Legolas only readjusted his ring, unbuckled the satchel in his lap and rummaged around for the hardtack he had bartered for Ewessel. (She would have no idea how many pieces were there originally—what she didn’t know also wouldn’t hurt her). He was just tugging on the pair of oversized leather earmuffs Gimli had given him a few years prior when he started taking the train routinely when two pairs of very familiar shoes suddenly appeared in his line of sight, and he froze—

There was no point in hurrying—he had been found out so he adjusted his earmuffs and tucked the hardtack into his cheek, noticing vaguely that the sturdier pair of boots were well-shined and dirtless, while the more slender, elvish ones were caked in mud along the edges and splashed up the shins.

He had thought Ithildim was in the Emyn Arnen buildings today. He had seen him head off that way through the trees and he had obviously been there for that was forest mud and yet here he stood with Gimli, clearly just come from their Minas Tirith office so...

He had apparently been wrong. It would not be the first time he had lost track of other people’s schedules.

The train rolled up slowly, then, and Legolas finally looked up from his seat on the bench to find Gimli at eye level—glaring at him with arms crossed—and then, looking further up, was Ithildim—hair neatly pinned back despite his other uncharacteristic untidiness—and he looked down on him with a bemused and mildly irritated expression.

Legolas did his best to offer a guileless smile.

It did not work, and Ithildim pulled him to his feet. “I thought your appointment was at 4(?), auren.”

“It was,” he said, and he shrugged. He was tired and did not want to talk yet. “I prefer walking the plains for an hour or so after, to calm my mind. I did not know you would be here.”

“You do this every time?” Ithildim asked with eyebrows raised, and then Gimli was chivvying them forward as the train doors opened and the inward-bound commuters poured out and the outward-bound ones moved forward.

“I did not know you would be here,” Legolas only said, shrugging, as they found a small table in the back of the car and piled around it.

Ithildim opened his mouth to ask again but Gimli interrupted—

“That is answer enough, Ithildim,” he said softly. “Leave him be, hm?”

“But—”

“He is always back to himself by the time he gets home, is he not? Let him do what he needs to do. He is his own keeper, Ithildim.”

Legolas was no longer watching them, and he instead stared out the window as the train moved forward and he was rocked slightly as it picked up speed. He did not notice the sound of a crinkling bag or the half sandwich Gimli slid in front of him. He did not notice Ithildim watching him wearily but intermittently as he arranged his notes on the small table, comparing a neat chart to x’s drawn on a map spread across its surface.

Outside, the sun was dipping dark but his mind was far away, and his mouth felt dry as he finally blinked and turned away from the flashing landscape.

Gimli had placed a reassuring hand by his thigh as he leaned over Ithildim’s map, and Ithildim was watching him unashamedly, silver eyes narrowed as Legolas glanced at him.

He pulled a travel mug from his backpack and handed it across the table to him.

“I take medicine for this now, you know,” Legolas said quietly, and he considered the coffee and tilted his head, waiting for Ithildim’s reply.

“I know,” he said immediately. “But you have that look in your eye that you get when…”

“Ithildim, he is his own keeper,” Gimli interrupted firmly, and Ithildim looked away. “That being said, Master Elf, it is summer again—“

“I know that—“

“—and the weather folks are predicting a mighty storm this week, which is probably why you are like this.”

Legolas picked up the coffee without a word and reluctantly drank it, and he twisted his ring again as Gimli continued:

“I’ve told Aragorn again and again that he would be much better served employing you lot for storm prediction than the fellows he has but…” he trailed off, and Legolas smiled.

“But he thinks it is unethical to use a bunch of Sea-longing elves for the protection of king and country, yes,” Legolas finished. “Honestly, those of us who are afflicted are going to suffer whether or not he consults us, so I’ve never understood his reticence.”

Ithildim looked up again and was finally smiling. “You are a bit like a barometer, in that,” he admitted. “Gimli has a point here.”

Legolas laughed. “So, what? We wait until I become uncommunicative and morose and a general pain to be around, and then we send Aragorn a warning letter? What, set smoke signals?”

“This is our stop,” Gimli was saying as he folded up Ithildim’s map and notes and shoved them into his hands. He stood up and gestured at the elves to join him. “Normal people would use the message systems, Legolas, but since you refuse to—”

“Really, Gimli?” Ithildim had pulled Legolas to his feet and was dragging him by the hand out the door. The wind was heavy beneath the eaves of the trees that overhung their stop. “We are lucky he only uses birds. Otherwise it would be constant updates about the exchange rate of rye, or flash-pictures of bread, or flowery descriptions of some lady he met in the gardens!”

As they started down the side path to the houses they shared with Saida and the children Legolas laughed again. “It is mushrooms I am fascinated with right now, Ithildim. It is painfully obvious sometimes that you do not listen when I speak.”

“Mushrooms?” he asked, turning to Gimli.

“That is his current passion project, yes. Have you not been in the downstairs bathroom recently?”

“Thank you, elvellon. I am so relieved someone listens to me.”

“Eru, Legolas, you know the downstairs bathroom is supposed to be for Ewessel so she doesn’t slow anyone else down in the mornings.”

Legolas had walked past them now and was several feet ahead as the main house came into sight. He shrugged and turned, walking backward. “It was her idea, Ithildim. You can take it up with her. I am in her good graces now, and I am not playing with the fire of adolescence to tell her no on your behalf.”

Gimli was laughing now and then Legolas had turned and took off toward the house. By the time they arrived a few minutes later, the lights had all been turned on or lit and Legolas was at the kitchen table with Ewessel herself, helping her with her schoolwork.

He barely looked up as they entered. “Stew on the stove,” he said quietly, and Ithildim sighed to hear the distance in his voice.

The door swung in again as Saida came in with Alfirinion at her heels—

“Smells like rain,” she announced as she slipped off her shoes and dropped her bag to the ground.

Alfirinion was just unloading his bag and armful of books onto the table inside the door when the house shook with a loud crash of thunder, and the building sound of rain—gentle to pounding and persistent—began to beat at the house.

Ewessel looked at Legolas, who had gone still beside her, and turned to her family. “I have known for days it would rain tonight. He is better than any weather report, if you are paying attention.”

“Ewessel,” Saida said with quiet admonishment, and she walked up and pressed a kiss to her niece’s forehead before settling down beside Legolas. “How about an early night?” she said to him quietly. “We can talk about our project tomorrow evening.”

Legolas cleared his throat and looked at his hands. “Yes, I think that would be good. The table isn’t…”

“Ewessel will set the table, won’t she?” Saida said lightly, and Ewessel closed her ledger and sprang to her feet. The dining room and kitchen were suddenly in motion and Legolas sat silent in his seat, until he dropped his head, defeated, into his hands, waiting for the sound of the rain to stop sounding like the crashing of waves at the shore.

“Tell us next time you notice, child,” he could hear Saida saying from the stove, and there was muttering under breath before Ewessel and Alfirinion were back in the room, placing a bowl at each seat.

There was the scraping of chairs around him, and then the feel of a cool glass pressed against his hand.

“It is just water, Legolas,” Ithildim was saying at his shoulder. “Drink, auren. The wide world is still here.”

And so he drank and ate and listened to his friends talk.

Alfirinion had had an argument with a peer at Rangers (though he had won, because debate team and shadowing Arwen over the summer had apparently paid off), and Ewessel was displeased no one wanted to see her forestry project (which, to be fair, was a log covered in mushrooms she had taken from Legolas’ project in the bathroom, so no one was particularly empathetic). Saida had made progress on curriculum redesign in her department at the main university, and Gimli and Ithildim had gotten clearance to start a project they were partnering on, to bring heated, running water to a new town outside Osgiliath.

Legolas, however, had only made stew. Had run errands for the family and for his business. Had gone to his appointment. Had lost himself to the wind and left his family fumbling.

But the stew was, at least, enjoyed, and that was better than nothing...

After dinner, everyone gathered in the sitting room to listen to Alfirinion practice his closing arguments for his competition and, eventually, Legolas fell asleep between Ithildim and Gimli on the couch. The last thing he was aware of was someone slipping headphones over his ears and dropping the needle on the phonograph so his senses were flooded with crackling birdsong, and then there was a blanket about his shoulders, and he was gone.

[dorevenge]

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 3: a young fellow

SUMMARY: Obadiah is back from Washington and surprises Maria with a belated birthday trip abroad. [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 [3] 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

November 16, 1959 – Bronx, New York, Obadiah’s Apartment

“Surprise, darling! Happy belated birthday.”

The door swings open, the jangle of keys alarming me, and I run to put his engagement ring back on, tossing the dirty apron back in the hamper. I greet him at the door, with a perfect smile, the image of everything he would want from me. I put the thick folder in the back of my mind, trying not to think about the bookshelf I shoved it behind.

Obie takes me into his arms. My face barely comes up to his collarbones. It was normally a sensation I craved after a long, stressful day, but when the person holding me is the source of my stress, the effect is not the same.

He takes a step back and takes my face into his weathered hands, his cold, tired eyes peering into mine. I try to keep eye contact and return the peaceful gaze. The pressure gets to me, so I reach up and pull his head towards mine.

We haven’t kissed in three months, and it’s almost like we’ve forgotten how. At least, I had forgotten how to enjoy it. His lips feel foreign between mine, like a stranger’s. Like someone I couldn’t trust.

When we break apart, his smile is as wide as his head. “I’ll take that as you missed me,” he says. “I got something for you.” He reaches down to the paper bags he had set at his feet when he arrived. He pulls out an envelope and two small, wrapped packages.

Obie leads me to the couch in the living room and sits me down, pushing the envelope in my hands first. He sits beside me, eager for me to open my gifts.

“Already? I didn’t even get to ask you how your flight was yet.” The envelope felt heavy with unknowing in my hands.

“My flight was uneventful. Please…” He gestures impatiently towards the gift in my lap.

I open the envelope gently. Inside, is a simple card, lilac with the words “Happy Birthday” written in a cursive script on the wrong. From within the card, two tickets fall into my lap.

“We’re going to Monaco?”

“Surprise again! I thought it would be a nice break from New York, get away before the holidays. And I feel terrible for leaving you alone for so long right after our engagement. From here on out, I will be an attentive partner to you.” His joy is so thickly spread across his face, it’s all I can do to smile in return and stare down at the tickets in my hands.

“Thank you, Obie, I-”

“You hate it.”

“No, love, I love it, and I love you,” I’m fumbling for my words, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “I’m just tired. It’s hard sleeping alone, and I’m still surprised that you’re here, let alone going taking a trip with you… Tomorrow?” I read the date on the tickets.

“Why wait? Then we can be back in time for Thanksgiving with your parents.” He kisses me on the forehead, content with my reaction, and stands. “I’m going to unpack my clothes from DC, then start repacking.”

-

November 20, 1959 – Monaco, France, The Hellfire Club

Obadiah was not a betting man, but he seemed at home at the Hellfire Club & Casino like a Protestant in church. He “enjoyed the company of the machines that controlled men’s fates,” but I imagine he enjoyed thinking he had more willpower than the men who squandered their paychecks and had to return home to their wives with their head between their tails, lying about the state of their finances.

It turns out he had business in Monaco, and surprising me with a late birthday trip seemed easier than leaving me for work again. I was left to my own devices again, but this time it was in a foreign country. I had studied abroad in France my junior year of college, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t talk to anyone here, but rather I have no desire to even leave the room.

Obie would meet me back at the hotel room at night, and we would often play a game of chess before bed. Playing chess with him was one of the best ways to pass the time. It keeps him quiet from rambling on about things I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about, details about materials and manufacturing and marketing. I did the accounting for Stane International, as that’s what I had studied in school, and as long as the numbers added up, I was content. And for every chess game I won, Obie paid me what we had bet, fueling my addiction to the finer things in life. I purchased more purses and linens and dresses and shoes than I would care to admit, but as long as the numbers added up – and as long as I hid the packages at Peggy’s – he didn’t complain.

The Hellfire Club is unusually classy for Obie’s taste; I’ve already started to resent his cheapness and penny-pinching, and we hadn’t even set a wedding date yet. I should have noticed that sooner. Here, gold decorates every pillar and billiard ball, marble fountains and silver pens, a gratuitous buffet and generous décor around every corner. Whoever the owner is has taste and luxury in excess. I am a girl with champagne taste engaged to a cheapskate.

Obadiah had spent the last four days in meetings from sunrise to sunset, and I am bored out of my mind. I have no interest in day-drinking, I’ve already read every book the front desk has to offer, and the pictures playing down the block don’t spark my curiosity. I feel like a tiger pacing its cage in a zoo, and I am ready to pounce.

Touching up my red lip and pinned curls, I leave the room and exit the elevator. I feel the turn of men’s heads like a gravitational pull, the clack of my heels leading the charge, and I’m embarrassed to admit how much I miss that attention. I know how this dress fits, I know how the color complements me; just because I’m an educated woman doesn’t mean I’m not a human one.

I have hours to kill before Obie will direct his attention to me again, so I stride right into the room full of betting games and tables. I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight – and cigar smoke – of men shuffling cards and chips like it means something, until I recognize one of the tables.

I had learned baccarat in my time in France, and despite never fully grasping the French language, I played their game very well. Like all of the casino’s games, the house has the edge, but my host family had taught me their tricks, and I could keep track of the location of every card once I saw it. This casino plays the punto banco style, which is where I excelled.

The first three hours, I did very well. I did so well that the waitstaff came to watch over my shoulder to assure I wasn’t cheating. I had almost doubled Obie’s entire investment portfolio, at least the one I had access to, using his information to start the hand but relying on my winnings to keep me afloat. But after three hours, I got – as I often do these days – bored. Keeping track of the calculations of the face value no longer keeps me entertained. So I start losing. Maximum bets net maximum losses.

I don’t know why I find so much joy in draining Obie’s savings, linked to the banking information from his hotel reservation. I don’t hate the man, but I don’t think I could ever love him. He has done nothing cruel to me, nothing unjust, or even unkind – but I don’t think he loves me either. I am comfortable and convenient; I straighten his ties and predict his chess moves and shake the hands of men he so desperately wants to impress. When you come from money, you learn to smell desperation a mile away, and Obadiah reeks of it. Every privileged man he meets can smell it, too, and until he can mask it, Stane International won’t become that international.

He’s just so boring. He fixates on the most minute details of his plans, his inventions take priority, and I think if I hurt him here, he would finally pay more attention to me than his baubles.

The chip pile, once mountainous, dwindles, replenishing when I transfer more funds, then drain once again. The staff look at me puzzled, wondering what happened to my blaze of glory, and I ask myself the same question as I feel myself go robotic and glassy-eyed. Twisting the probability on its head, I play the moves in the house’s favor, leaving nothing behind but a tray full of cigarette ash and empty champagne classes.

It dawns on me that this game of baccarat reflected Obie’s and my relationship. I feed his ego, his business deals, and checkbooks, and what did I have to show for it? A cheap steel ring, a prolonged engagement with no date in sight, and still living in my childhood bedroom with my parents in Southampton.

As I drain my last glass, several tall men in nice suits approach me, stern looks on their faces. I straighten in my seat.

“Ms. Carbonell?” one of them asks to confirm my identity in an American accent.

“Is there a problem?”

“You’ve attracted our attention with your gameplay. What are your intentions here at the Hellfire Club?”

I blink at the empty glass in my hand, just a hint of the red wine remaining on the bottom swirling at its base. “To win.”

“Looks like you’re not doing much of that now.”

“Winning got boring,” I shrug.

“Please come with us, Ms. Carbonell.”

“I’d rather stay here and keep losing.”

One of the men places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll come with us now. The owner of the Roxxon Corporation would like to speak to you.” I’m suddenly on my feet.

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 14: A Welcome Distraction

((Abe takes to the streets in search of the Host, but instead he finds a different kind of performer. Back at his office, he finds a new, seemingly unrelated case waiting for him.

Here are links to the previous part and to the whole series.))

Abe chose to walk to the coffee shop, hoping the walk would help clear his head after a long night and that conversation with Google. That, and he wanted the extra time to take a different route, to see if he was still being followed or not. Problem was, he forgot that weekends were a thing, and it seemed like half the city was out shopping and enjoying the warmer than usual fall weather. He checked faces at every crosswalk, doubled back and looked over his shoulder whenever he had an excuse to do so, but if he was supposed to recognize any of those faces, he didn’t.

Instead, the walk just gave him more time to think about what he wanted to say to the Host once he got his hands on him, and a few creative things he’d like to do to…pretty much everyone who had a hand in getting him involved in this case. All this time spent watching a doctor, and he could have been using it to find out more about the Colonel’s new alias—if he even really was going by a ridiculous name like Wilford Warfstache these days.

The bench in front of the coffee shop was taken by a pair of ladies happily chatting, and a quick search up and down the street found no sign of the Host. There was another street performer there though, who had set up a small booth set up to look like a stage and curtains that could just barely fit one person inside. A burst of laughter came from the crowd gathered in front of the temporary stage, with a few kids sitting so close that they had to look up to what a sign pinned to the top of the stage proclaimed to be “Jameson Jackson’s Jolly Jaunts.” Jackson, probably, was pantomiming alongside a pair of puppets, shock on his face as the cloth detective puppet accused him of stealing a diamond while the other, a cutout of the most stereotypical burglar you could image on a stick, proclaimed that he knew it all along.

As Abe watched, Jackson appealed to the audience and an increasing number of puppets for help, the bit going on until the detective puppet slapped him on the back of the head and he coughed up a shiny rock to the puppets’ shocked silence before they all piled on him, dragging him out of view to the audience’s cheers and laughter.

Cute, but not the reason Abe stuck around after a “The End” card was drawn up on a string, and the puppeteer and a few of his favorites appeared to wave goodbye to the kids before they ran off. A few minutes after the crowd dispersed, the hunter watched Jackson step out of the back of the little popup stage, two shoebox-sized boxes tucked under one arm.

“Need some help cleaning up?” Abe asked as the puppeteer set the boxes down on top of the booth and stretched, visibly glad to be out of the confined space.

Jackson dropped his arms mid-stretch and pointed at his throat, drawing a line across it with his finger before shrugging.

“Oh, you can’t—” Abe paused. “But your show, I heard…”

Jackson smiled and opened one of the smaller boxes, tilting it to reveal multiple identical devices. He tapped a button on the one labeled “Diamond Heist”, causing the puppet detective’s voice to ask, “But what about the cookies?!”

“That’s…actually pretty clever,” Abe said, causing the puppeteer to smile. Especially considering he recalled at least one of the puppets directly responding to something one of the kids called out.

Jackson started to sign before catching himself and pulling a small notepad and pen out of one of his waistcoat pockets. There he wrote, “Thank you, my friends were kind enough to supply the recordings for me. And a few other tricks, to keep it interesting.”

He winked, and only grinned wider when Abe said, “Guess I don’t need to bother with complimenting your ventriloquism skills then. Do you do a lot of street shows like this?”

“Different places, but yes. Mostly on the weekends, more often during the summer for the kids. I’ve done a thing or two in more traditional venues, but that’s more for the older crowd.” Jackson shrugged again once Abe was done reading, as if to say one place was as good as the other.

Abe nodded before asking the question he had been leading up to, “I ran into a guy the other day who apparently sings on the corner around here sometimes, but I’m having a hard time finding him again. Called himself the Host, had bandages around his eyes. You haven’t you seen him around, have you?”

Jackson tapped his chin with the end of his pen before writing, “Can’t say that I have, but I try to avoid performing in an area when I see someone else is already there. Don’t want to be rude!”

The puppeteer hesitated before adding, “I know a few places that tend to be popular with street artists. Why are you looking for this Host fellow?”

“I know the owner of that coffee shop over there, Carla. He was coming around here a lot for a while there and suddenly stopped, and she’s just a little worried so I thought I’d check on him,” Abe lied. Last he checked, Carla wasn’t worried at all, probably because she was used to customers like Abe disappearing for days or even months at a time before showing up again like nothing happened at all. At least, he assumed he wasn’t the only one who did that. Either way, wasn’t like he was about to explain the real reason to some random guy on the street. “Do you mind helping me out?”

Jackson pulled a fancy-looking silver pocket watch out of his other waistcoat pocket, opening an intricately carved cover to check the time before writing his response.

“Looks like my friend is running a little late. If you were serious about helping me pack up, I can give you a few ideas.”

Easy enough, and between the two of them the stage was soon a folded bundle that, while a few feet long, the puppeteer could at least manage to carry by himself, although add in the boxes of recording devices and puppets and it all seemed like a bit much.

“You sure you can manage all of this?” Abe asked as he tucked the list Jackson gave him into his pocket for later. Not that he was about to volunteer to lug all this stuff anywhere, especially considering he hadn’t taken the car today, but he did feel a twinge of guilt at leaving the hipster puppeteer to fend for himself.

Jackson nodded and started to write before he was distracted by a text notification. He took out a basic-looking phone that he probably only used for the text function, considering how he fumbled with it before smiling at the message.

“He’s on his way! Thank you for the help,” he wrote for Abe’s sake.

The hunter tried not to look too relieved, which became a lot easier when for the second time today he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the clear, sneaking sensation that he was being watched.

Jackson stared as he looked around, Abe’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the people walking by, the busy shops, before landing on a figure standing too still in the narrow, shared drive between the nearby laundromat and florist’s shop for deliveries. A figure who disappeared as soon as the hunter glanced his way, leaving a vague impression of someone wearing red.

“Good,” Abe said, barely listening to what he was saying. “Uh, thanks for the list, I should…get on that now, for Carla.”

Jackson nodded and waved as he walked away, looking bemused and a little concerned for the hunter. Almost as soon as the hunter disappeared around the corner, the puppeteer jumped at the sudden presence of the man standing next to him.

“Don’t do that!” Jameson signed.

“Sorry,” Jackie said out of reflex, not that it ever stopped him from doing it. He was staring at where he last saw the hunter, the corner of his mouth turning down in a grimace. “Who was that guy?”

“Not sure,” Jameson said. “He was asking about another street performer, a singer, I think. Said someone was worried about him.”

“Just that?” Jackie asked, and Jameson shrugged. “…Okay. Let me know if you see him around again, maybe I can help him find what he’s looking for.”

Jameson paused, wondering if he was reading too much into Jackie’s expression and tone of voice, but the vigilante shook his head and picked up the folded stage.

“We should get back,” Jackie said. “I left Chase trying to convince Y/N to wear their collar and go for a walk.”

“Oh, that would be nice!” Jameson signed. “I certainly don’t want to miss that.”

“Great, then you can be the one to tell them about the leash law,” Jackie said, waiting for Jameson to pick up the rest of his materials before motioning for him to lead the way.

Behind Jameson, Jackie shot one more look at where he lost sight of the hunter. He’d have to ask Jameson a few more questions about what, exactly, the hunter had said, and maybe encourage him to set up his act somewhere on the other side of the city for a while. Better to have to get a ride from Chase than to risk running into that man again.

---

Red.

He was sure of it, the person watching him had been wearing red. He hadn’t been able to make out anything else in that split second, but did he really need to?

Google. That thing was watching him, had to be. Probably whatever magic kept him running also made it easier for him to get around without being noticed, or maybe it was a special feature whoever he was working for had added on.

The longer Abe thought about it, the surer he was, until by the time he returned to his office he was furious enough to punch the tin can man, consequences be damned. The fact that his walk around half the city failed to turn up the Host or seemingly anyone else who knew the guy, and he was not in the mood to find someone waiting outside of his office again.

A fact the young woman who looked up and saw him coming seemed well aware of, as the second she saw him she stopped leaning against the office door and rubbed the back of her neck with a heavily-tattooed arm.

“Sorry, think I’ve got the wrong place,” she muttered, already stepping aside to go around him.

Abe sighed and said, “Well, if you were looking for someone who knows what he’s doing, I think you might be right about that. Still willing to give it a shot, if you need help with something.”

She hesitated, giving him time to look her up and down. Short dark hair, young enough to be in her late teens or early twenties if he had to guess. Despite the cold weather, she was wearing a sleeveless top over her ripped jeans, which showed off the full spread of her tattoo sleeves. The ink on her dark skin was dominated by images of waves and schools of fish, to the point the sleeves would have looked just as at home on the arms of a sailor.

“I was told you could help with…finding something of mine,” she said, unable to completely hide her doubt.

“You know I’m a hunter, right? I don’t usually look for things.” Someone sent her here? Carla, maybe, he had asked her to keep an eye out for any potential cases, but of course his luck meant she would she show up now.

“I know, I wouldn’t be here at all if—” she stopped herself and took a breath. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I can’t go to anyone else because…It’s complicated.”

“I get that a lot,” Abe muttered. As much as he didn’t want to, he already knew where this was going. “We can talk about it in my office.”

She nodded, and it wasn’t until after he unlocked the door that Abe thought to say, “Right, sorry about the mess.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she said, not even blinking an eye at the state he’d left the place in this morning. Still, she waited until Abe sat behind his desk before she slowly sat down in the opposite chair, her arms pulled in tight around her. “Like I said, I need help getting back something—something very important to me. I know who has it, but I’m afraid if I try to get it back myself, he’ll…”

She swallowed, hard, and not for the first time Abe thought maybe he should try to keep tissues around here. Then again, she looked closer to being sick than actually crying.

“You know this guy?” Abe asked.

“I thought he was a friend, he thought we were something else,” she answered. “Still does. This is just a stunt to keep me from leaving, or maybe he’s just being vindictive, but either way I can’t risk getting it myself.”

“And this thing he stole would be…?” Abe asked. Kind of an important part of this, after all.

She swallowed again and hesitated, eyes searching him as though trying to find some clue whether she could tell him or not.

Abe returned the stare, before his eyes drifted back to the tattoos on her arm. Loves the ocean, a guy steals something so personal from her that she can barely speak of it, can’t take it to the police…and suddenly it became a story he’d heard too many times before, usually after it was too late to do anything about it.

“Your sealskin?” he asked, and her expression answered for her. A selkie, a seal who could remove their skin and pass for human. Without that skin, she couldn’t change back. “Let me guess, you’re not registered with the city.”

She shook her head. “Couldn’t afford it, and the job at the bar, they don’t really like…my kind. Not human...Are you going to report me?”

Report her, and by the time she was done dealing with the aftermath, wannabe boyfriend would have had enough time to hide the skin or sell it on the black market to the highest bidder, if he didn’t just shred it out of spite.

“Where’s he live?” Abe asked.

Meri, that was her name, was surprised when the hunter returned under an hour later. It helped that the guy lived only a ten-minute drive away, and Abe was lucky enough to find him at home and willing to share where he had hidden the skin, or at least he was after Abe may or may have taken the opportunity to work out some pent-up aggression.

If she noticed the hunter’s split knuckles, Meri immediately forgot them the second she saw the smooth, dark pelt he held up. Her eyes watered as she smiled for the first time since she got here, and Abe rocked back on his feet as she tackled him in a hug.

“Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you,” she said, repeating the words over and over again as she pressed her sealskin to her chest, and now she really was crying and Abe really, really needed to invest in a box of tissues.

“He’s going to report you, you know,” Abe said.

“I know,” she said. No matter how he went about getting the skin, they both knew that’s what the outcome of getting it back would be. A guy like that didn’t just stop, even if Abe left him with a few things to consider. “I was already planning on leaving the city, I just couldn’t go without this. I know someone who can help me get through the watch on the harbor, and from there…”

“Well, good luck with that, and here’s hoping you never have to see me again,” Abe said.

She smiled, and for a second Abe was afraid she might hug him again. Despite her size, that last hug had threatened to crack his spine. Instead, she settled for another round of thanks before walking out of his office, leaving him to sigh and hunt down some ice for his knuckles.

If only all of his cases were so easy to take care of, Abe thought to himself as he glanced at the clock. Looked like he had just enough time to get a nap in before nightfall, when he’d take a drive around a certain neighborhood. Spotting the doctor leaving his home or returning in the morning seemed like too much to hope for, but at least it would make a change from staring at the door to the clinic all night.

Both would be a little more bearable too, after that little reminder that he could at least get something right every now and then.

((End of Part 14. Thanks again for reading! Sorry that I haven’t been responding to the comments--it’s really, really hard not to spoil stuff! I have seen them though and it sounds like a longer part is okay, so that’s what I’ll do for tomorrow. Can’t wait for you all to see where that one goes. :)

Edit: And here’s the link to Part 15: Going for a Walk.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

[hobi-gang]

silver sequins | jhs

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 – Jung Hoseok has been in a bit of a bad mood ever since his girlfriend broke up with him. He’s been in a bad mood for precisely four months.

Jimin and Taehyung hatch a plan to take his mind off of things.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 – angst, fluff, crack

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 – jhs x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 – 16.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 – mentions of alcohol, more angst in this than anticipated oops

𝐚/𝐧 – wrote this for someone special uwu. enjoy!

Jung Hoseok has been an idol for a while now. As an idol, he knew that it was difficult getting into a relationship. There were several steps to getting and keeping a girlfriend as an idol. It involved meeting that person, loving that person, introducing that person to your friends and inevitably to your company, and signing legally binding contracts with that person. 

The process was admittedly stressful but in the end, Hoseok was just happy to have someone that loved him. He loved that person too. He gave them everything he could. He tried so hard and poured a lot of love and energy into the relationship he had with them only to break-up with them after five months.

"It's just too hard, Hobi. There are so many rules."

"Hobi, I want the world to know about us."

"Am I just a dirty secret to you?"

He wanted all the things she did too, he really did. He wanted to show them off to the world and publically declare his love for them but he just wasn't able to. It was in the contracts they signed. They both went into it knowing that but it turned out to be more difficult than they thought it would be.

He missed going to her apartment after work and cuddling up to her while watching movies. He missed the sneaky glances. He missed falling asleep with her in his arms. He missed it all. 

If they were still together, today would've been their nine-month anniversary. It had been four months of trying to get over his relationship with her but without her, everything felt so hard. His mood had been soured, it seemed, permanently. And it was evident to each and every one of his fellow group members.

"Again!" Hoseok yelled over the music.

Jimin exhaled noisily, flopping down onto the floor with a frown. "Hyung, please," the smaller boy whined, falling to his back on the floor, spreading out all his limbs, trying desperately to steady his breathing.

"Take five, hyung. We're tired," Taehyung groaned, rubbing his neck tiredly. Yoongi stalked over to the stereo and paused the music, catching Hoseok's glaring attention in the midst of it all.

"What are you doing?" Hoseok asked him with an annoyed look on his face, stalking over to the stereo where Yoongi stood. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at his younger friend, "That's enough. We were supposed to be finished an hour ago. We're tired and you need to pace yourself otherwise you're going to get sick, man. Look, we know you're going through a tough time, okay? It's affecting all of us but I refuse to enable this behavior any longer. We're going home. You're going home. You're gonna rest and then we'll reconvene tomorrow, okay?"

Hoseok looked over to Namjoon and Jin who gestured their agreements from the corner, leaning against the walls of the studio, drinking from their water bottles. He turned his attention Jungkook who was already helping Jimin and Taehyung with their cooldowns. Taehyung smiled up at him sheepishly as he stretched his legs which caused Hoseok to rolls his eyes.

"So what, this is pity? The only thing you should pity right now is our formation at the bridge–"

"Hoseok, stop it!" Yoongi shouted, his words echoing off the walls. The members looked on in astonishment, not expecting their lead rapper to raise his voice like that. "The formation is fine and you know it," his eyes bore into Hoseok's and the older member could see the anger and the pain in his eyes.

"Everyone, get up and go home," Yoongi said aloud to them all and he didn't need to look away from Hoseok's narrowed eyes to know that they were already gathering their belongings, ready to leave the practice studio that they'd been stuck in for hours.

"Hoseok," he told him softly, placing his hand on the younger boy's sweaty shoulder, "Go home. Rest."

If resting meant looking at photo albums of him and his ex then Hoseok would proudly tell his hyung that he rested very well indeed.

He swiped through each and every photo, reminiscing about all the good times they had together. As he went further into the album, he felt the longing in his chest grow immensely. He sighed, putting his glass of wine down on his bedside table. A ping resonated from his phone with a notification header sliding down over the screen.

Calendar: 9 Month Anniversary with Babygirl Moon. Would you like to share?

"Shit," he murmured to himself, swiping the notification away. Seeing her nickname on the screen made him crinkle his nose. He should've removed that reoccurring event from his calendar a long time ago but he just wasn't able to bring himself to do it. It'd been four months since they've been separated, he should have moved on at least by a little bit but he continued to cling onto the memories of her with that heavy ache in his chest, the longing... The hope.

With a few more swipes, he found his thumb hovering over the red button on his screen.

Delete 349 images from 'Babygirl Moon and Big Sun' album?

YES    |    NO

349 images including the picture he was using for his lock screen. It was from a date they'd had a while ago at a sushi bar in town. She'd begged him to take a photo and he'd refused simply because of the clauses in their contract. In fact, it was rare that they'd take pictures with both of their faces fully revealed. She compromised that night, taking his hand and lifting it into the bottom of the frame of her camera. She encouraged him to smile in a goofy voice, capturing his earnest reaction at the same time. She showed him the photo afterward and he liked the lighting and the composition of her hands in his, so he changed his lock screen.

His thumbing began to quiver over the red 'NO' on the screen and a dejected sigh escaped his lips, his thumb moving away from the 'NO', instead opting to press the power off button on his phone. Staring at the dark screen with a scrunched nose, he gently threw the mobile device across his bed and laid his head on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He understood that his emotions were a little... All over the place since the break-up, and he knew that it was affecting the other members.

Even before he signed the contract with his now ex-girlfriend, the boys warned him that it might affect his activity within the group and that it could prove detrimental in the long run. They also voiced their dislike about her in private, not that Hoseok really minded.

He knew that his ex-girlfriend could be outspoken and that she might've been a little aggressive, impatient, and rude at times, but he loved her all the same. Granted, they fought. A lot. She'd inadvertently let some insensitive words slip out about his appearance or his attitude every week or so but they'd always make up after their fights. After she'd grovel and kiss his jaw, nuzzling into his neck with a sigh, he'd forgive her, not wanting to hold a grudge against her for a minute longer.

Yes, he found someone. Yes, he loved what he had with that someone. Yes, that someone happened to make things messy at times but it was the other things that he liked to focus on more. The candid photos she'd take of him whenever she had the chance, sneaking a risky kiss in public, having fun at the local playgrounds at night time. Hoseok fell asleep that night with an ache in his chest, the continuous throb now a familiarity, and he wondered if he would ever find love again. 

"Okay, what about this one?" Hwasa asked you, thrusting a coat hanger with a red spaghetti strap dress into your hands. 

Wheein cooed, leaning forward from the edge of the bed and brushing her hands over the soft fabric. "Ooh, that'll look so cute on you," she grinned at you.

"Hm, I don't know," you pursed your lips, lifting the dress higher and spinning it around. "I don't think red's my color."

Hwasa rolled her eyes, "So if red, blue, and yellow aren't your colors then what is?" she asked you, taking the coat hanger from your hands. You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck and sighing. 

"Eonnie, you know I don't wear dresses. Can't I just wear something like some pants–"

Solar squealed, "Y/N, you gotta at least try it on! You have an amazing figure and you'd look incredible, trust me," she gave you a reassuring look, rubbing your arm comfortingly. With their encouragement, you sighed and retook the dress from Hwasa's hands. 

"This is peer pressuring, you know that right?" you told her with a playful glare.

"Peer pressure your butt into that bathroom, Y/N," Solar said to you, pushing you towards the bathroom. 

While your sister Hwasa was rummaging through her closet for another possible outfit for tonight's party, you emerged from the bathroom wearing the red spaghetti strap dress. "Woah," Moonbyul quipped, throwing her phone on to the bed, giving you her full attention. "Holy shit, that looks amazing," she told you, her jaw hanging low.

"I told you it'd look cute on you," Wheein added, putting her hands on your hips to spin you around.

"Do you think it'll work?" You asked them, stepping in front of the floor-length mirror, looking at yourself at different angles. "I mean, even if he just looks at me, that'd be enough," you laughed, putting your hands on your hips.

"Oh, he'll be looking at you alright. I think everyone will be," Moonbyul quipped.

You sighed longingly, "Well, what if he doesn't come?" You said aloud, playing with your hair. 

"Well," Hwasa huffed with her head in the closet, "I texted Namjoon about the party so we should be expecting all of them to come."

Moonbyul hummed and picked her phone back up to take a picture of you. 

"Oh, damn," Hwasa whistled upon seeing you in the red dress. There was a bunch of clothes pooled around her feet after she'd rummaged through her closet. "I mean, that dress looks amazing on you and all but I think I may have found something better," she winked, handing you another coat hanger.

You lifted the long-sleeved silver sequin dress into view. You were in awe, "I didn't even know you had this," you told your sister, turning the hanger around to examine the dress from all sides.

"If I remember correctly, I bought it last year but I haven't really found the time or place to wear it. Try it on, I think it'll look better on you anyway," she urged you, pushing you back into the bathroom.

After the door had closed behind you, Solar sighed. "I think we might have to get her some floaties for the party. She'll be drowning in drool before she even steps in the venue," she giggled, earning amused looks from her bandmates.

 Yoongi was busy texting Hoseok, the two of them throwing lyric ideas back and forth between one another for the song they were writing together. It'd been almost a month since the incident in the practice studio. They both had a private conversation with each other the next day where Hoseok finally confessed to Yoongi that he was struggling to let go of the past.

It was clear to all of the members that Hoseok was dealing with some issues but the fact that he had actually admitted it out loud, Yoongi felt that he was taking a step in the right direction and he was proud of him for having the strength to do so. Hoseok had since apologized to the members for taking his anger out on them and for being so upset and while they accepted his apology, it was evident to them that things with him were not nearly as normal as they used to be.

"Ah, hyung!" Jimin shouted, running down the corridor. Both Jin and Yoongi looked up to see the younger boy hurtling towards them, jumping next to them on the couch excitedly.

"Joonie-hyung told me that Mamamoo is hosting a private party after the awards ceremony tonight, we should go!" Jimin grinned widely, grabbing Jin's bicep and tugging on it.

"Aish, calm down, I'm eating," Jin responded with a tight-lipped smile, slapping the younger member on the thigh in an attempt to stop him from hopping up and down on the spot.

Yoongi gave Jimin a disappointed look, "And stop yelling. Why on earth are you so energetic?" Yoongi asked him, raising a brow in suspicion at the younger member.

"Uhhh, because it's a Mamamoo party? Doesn't Hobi-hyung like Moonbyul? Maybe he'd be in a better mood if he sees her there," Jimin suggested, bumping Jin's elbow with his own, bobbing his brows up and down. 

Jin gave the younger boy a quirked eyebrow, "They're just friends," he told him, shrugging the younger boy's hands off his arm.

Jimin rolled his eyes, "Well it's still a party, parties are notorious for their good vibes, hyung."

"Fine, whatever. But don't be surprised if he says he doesn't wanna go," Jin huffed, returning his attention back to his noodles.

Jimin patted his head and grinned, "I'll figure something out."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, leaving the room to find a more quiet space.

Taehyung and Jimin shared a knowing look with each other before bounding into Hoseok's apartment. Jimin's plan was to utilize Taehyung's signature puppy eyes to get his hyung to agree to go to the party with them which shouldn't be too hard seeing that Hoseok had a soft spot for Taehyung.

"Hyung! Where are you?" Taehyung shouted out as soon as he crossed the threshold.

"In here!" Hoseok yelled in response, his voice coming from his studio.

The young pair wandered through the apartment and found that the door to his studio was open. They both spotted their older friend leaning back in his chair, his attention focused on his computer screen.

"I thought we were meeting up at work, what's up?" Hoseok asked them, turning his chair to face them both.

Jimin pushed Taehyung forward, urging him to tell Hoseok the news instead of himself. Taehyung looked back at Jimin with a betrayed look in his eyes before turning back to his hyung, clearing his throat. "Um, so the Mamamoo girls are hosting a party tonight after the awards ceremony, we're all going..."

Hoseok looked at them expectantly, "Okay, and?" he questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh, well... Do you want to go with us? It could be fun," Taehyung asked him nervously, his hands fidgeting behind his back. "It's supposed to be idols only, so no managers and whatever. We could let loose, y'know?" Taehyung squeaked out, looking to Jimin for back-up.

"I don't know, guys..." Hoseok sighed, slumping down into his chair.

Jimin stepped forward, knowing that his plan to use Taehyung's puppy eyes was failing. He quickly threw an arm around Taehyung's shoulder, "Come on, hyung. How about we make a deal?" Jimin suggested, earning a considerate look from his elder.

"Go on..." Hoseok egged on.

Taehyung looked at Jimin with a smirk, "If we win an award tonight, you have to go with us to their party," Jimin said, smiling at the boy sitting in the chair.

Hoseok knew their win was guaranteed, a lot of their wins had been that way for the past few years. They'd worked hard for each and every one of them, their passion and their dedication to their craft garnering fruitful results almost every single time. Hoseok knew they were eager for him to join them at a fun event for the first time in a while so he caved in and said, "Fine. It's a deal."

Taehyung jumped and clapped his hands while hugging Jimin who was cheering loudly. Hoseok smiled at their reactions, chuckling at their outward displays of happiness. "Okay, okay, I'll see you guys at work later," he waved them off, turning his chair back to face his computer.

The pair of them walked out of his studio, bidding their farewells to him. "This is gonna be so much fun, man," Taehyung squealed once he was sure they were out of earshot, throwing a playful punch to Jimin's arm. 

"This is gonna be so great," Jimin grinned, laughing with him and leaving Hoseok's apartment.

"This is not... Going great," Jimin sighed, nursing his glass of champagne. Jin chuckled and nudged Jimin's arm, "What'd I tell you?"

"You told me he wouldn't wanna come but he's here. He's just not being the social butterfly he usually is," Jimin rolled his eyes, turning away from his older friend. 

Jin shrugged, "Eh. Same thing," he said to his younger friend with a victorious grin, gulping down his glass of champagne and placing it on the bar top before leaving to join Jungkook and Yoongi on the dancefloor.

The party was thriving and everyone was enjoying themselves in their respective groups, dancing under the flashing lights, and sharing drinks around their tables on all sides of the room. The music was good too, Jimin noted to himself, nodding his head to the beat. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok were sitting beside him at the bar, talking amongst each other, discussing their win for album of the year. Jimin looked away from them and spotted the hosts of the party, Mamamoo, on the dancefloor. 

That's where Hoseok would usually be in events like this, dancing in the center of the room like his life depended on it. He usually thrived in this kind of environment, catching everyone's attention and their applause but all he could do right now was nurse the same bottle of beer at the bar.

There was a girl in a long-sleeved silver sequin cocktail dress and she was awkwardly bobbing on the spot at the center of the dancefloor, trying to sway her shoulders to the beat. Jimin hadn't seen her before. Everyone at the party was an idol and being in the industry for as long as he had, he was able to name every person in the room except for her. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her shiny dress and that expression that screamed 'this is not my type of scene, please don't judge me'.

"Who's that?" Jimin said aloud, hoping that at least one of his bandmates could give him an answer.

"Oh, her? That's Hyejin's younger sister," Namjoon said to him loud enough so that he could hear over the throbbing music. 

"How do you know that? Also, you call Hwasa by her real name now?" Jimin snorted, turning to his hyung and finding the older boy's cheeks growing red, even in the darkness that swallowed their side of the room. 

Namjoon stuttered, "What? Uh, I mean Hwasa posted a picture of her on her Instagram page, didn't you see it? You saw it, right?" Namjoon nudged Taehyung's arm. 

"No," Taehyung laughed, "Don't drag me into your embarrassing conversation, hyung."

The older member groaned and told them to shut up, murmuring something about 'All I do is breathe and I get attacked', turning away from them and going back to his drink.

Jimin examined her from across the room, watching how Hwasa, Wheein, and Moonbyul were encasing the young girl in a circle and jumping around her, trying to include her in their dancing festivities. He saw her shy, sheepish smile under the flashing lights of the room and concluded that she looked rather cute. In fact, he saw the similarities between her and her older sister. Their tan skin, dark flowing shoulder-length hair, round faces, and gleaming smiles were practically the same. Though, somehow, she managed to be just a little bit shorter, which he found rather cute.

Taehyung found himself getting dragged away from the bar by the arm, clumsily trying to balance his glass in his hand to prevent it from being spilled, "Yah! What are you doing?" he questioned Jimin, straightening out his clothes.

"Dude, we gotta set Hobi-hyung up with Hwasa's sister!" Jimin leaned into Taehyung, nodding towards the young girl on the dance floor surrounded by the girls of Mamamoo. 

Taehyung raised his brows upon seeing her for the first time, "Oh damn, she's... She's actually pretty cute, bro."

"The plan was to get Hobi-hyung here so he could have fun but he still looks pretty damn miserable, I mean look at him," Jimin huffed, turning his attention back to his older group member. Hoseok sat at the bar with Namjoon by his side and Jimin noticed that Hoseok wasn't really talking at that point, only nodding along to what Namjoon was saying.

"We have to set him up with that girl," Jimin urged. Taehyung was putting the pieces together in his mind and he nodded along to Jimin's plan.

"Okay, um," Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck. "How do we do this?"

"You've got the answer in the palm of your hand, bro," Jimin pointed at Taehyung's drink.

Taehyung slumped his shoulders, "Really, bro?"

Jimin grinned widely and nodded enthusiastically.

"Eonnie, can we go home soon?" you shouted to your sister over the music, somehow managing to step on your own feet, making you wince at your own clumsiness. "I love this dress and all but it is... incredibly uncomfortable," you continued to rant to her.

"You still haven't talked to J-Hope. That was your plan, wasn't it?" Hwasa bumped her eyebrows up and down at you suggestively, a smirk adorning her face.

Your cheeks grew hot and you found yourself hitting her gently on the arm. "Oh my god, stop!" you hissed at her, mortified that she was talking about it in such an open space. "I've been watching him all night but he doesn't look like he's in the mood and I don't wanna burden him... Also, I just really wanna go home and eat my ramen."

Hwasa smiled and rolled her eyes at you, taking your hands into hers. "Just ten more minutes, and then we can go back home and eat all the ramen and chocolates we want. Please?" she begged you, putting on her puppy eyes and jutting out her bottom lip. You groaned at her desperate display and caved in, "Okay, fine! Just ten more minutes."

She smiled widely, bringing you in for a hug. "It's a party, sis! Come on, we're celebrating!" Hwasa cheered, grabbing your hand and raising it to bring you into a spin. You laughed with joy, letting her spin you around.

In a blur, you felt someone bump into you and you quickly felt something wet spreading all over your front. With a gasp, you turned to see Kim Taehyung looking down at you with an apologetic look. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he yelled, taking your hands into his. They were big and warm, completely encompassing yours with his sheer size.

You saw Yoongi and Jin coming from behind Taehyung, "Nice one, idiot," Jin snorted, punching Taehyung on the arm. "Shut up," he told his older friend, shrugging him off.

"It's fine, it's fine," you told him. "My sister–"

"Your sister's fine, come with me, let me clean you up," he told you apologetically, pleading to you with his eyes. "Please?"

You felt a hitch in your throat, his expression managing to take your breath away so easily. It was no wonder everyone described him as charming, it was all in his nature.

"O-okay," you said to him, allowing him to guide you away from the dancefloor. You looked back at your sister but she was engaged in a conversation with Solar and Jimin. Your sister was right there and... this was her party anyway so you should be fine.

"Again, I'm so sorry about that," Taehyung said to you once you'd both reached the bar. He was grabbing a bunch of napkins from the bar top and you saw him visibly contemplate whether or not to pat your front down. You took the napkins out of his hand with a sheepish smile, cleaning the front of your dress down on your own. 

You laughed nervously, "It's okay, really, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Stop apologizing, it was my fault for being a klutz," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a rueful look on his face. He stilled, patting his back pocket, retrieving his phone. "Oh– I really have to take this, do you mind?" he asked you, gesturing to his phone.

"Yeah, of course!" you stuttered, waving him off.

"Hyung," Taehyung looked behind you, "Can you keep her some company? I'll be back in a minute," he gently nudged you backward. You felt the backs of your thighs bumping into someone's knees, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Hm, what?" you heard a familiar voice behind you say aloud.

"Thanks!" Taehyung grinned, turning on his heel and leaving you with his friend.

You gasped upon feeling a hand on your hip, turning around and choking upon seeing who Taehyung had pushed you into. "Careful there," he said to you, his hand dropping from your hip.

It was– "J-Hope," you murmured, eyes wide at the mere proximity to him. Three things popped into your mind upon seeing him up close for the first time. 

1. Big. Broad. Man... Just, man

2. Hot... Like, holy shit, hot. Does his hair feel as soft as it looks? And why the hell does he smell so good?

3. J-Hope

"You're J-Hope," you said to him stupidly, pointing right at his face. 

He looked at you with a quirked brow, "Um, yes?"

You cringed at yourself and stepped away from him, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, that was really dumb of me. I'm just... I'm gonna leave you alone now," you told him regretfully, internally punching yourself for being so embarrassing to the one guy that you wanted to impress tonight. You collected a pile of napkins from the bar top and bowed to him, attempting to go back to your sister on the dancefloor.

He looked at you from head to toe, your curled dark hair sweeping against your shoulders, silver sequin dress reflecting all the colorful lights from around the room almost blinding him. He noticed how you looked so out of your element, the nervous look on your face, and your fidgeting hands catching his attention. When you turned away from him, his heart jumped in his chest, his instincts telling him to reach out to you.

Looking back, you saw that his arm was extended towards you, his hand wrapped around your wrist. The contact alone was enough to make you sweat.

"Don't worry about it. Take a seat, Taehyung should be back soon," he gave you a kind smile, letting go of your wrist. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but you were still reeling from your humiliating display from just moments ago. "A-are you sure? I can wait somewhere else if you want," you asked him unsurely, slowly stepping backward. 

Under the flashing lights, you could see his chest rumbling with a chuckle, "Come with me," he told you, hopping out of his stool. He took your hand in his and began to weave you through the crowd, earning a cluster of looks along the way. You felt your body begin to grow hotter the longer he had your hand in his, taking you through the masses and to the balcony. He slid the door open and a cool, relieving breeze washed over your bare legs. He gestured for you to step out first. With a surprised look on your face, you stepped past his open arm and out onto the balcony. 

You heard the door slide close behind you and you felt him take a stand beside you. Below you, the city was spread out in a beautiful exhibit of concrete jungles entwined with vines of brilliant lights. Looking up at him, you saw how it illuminated his features and the forlorn look on his face. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring and suffering from even more embarrassment.

He pulled out his phone and was avidly tapping away, "I hope you don't mind. It's just really noisy and hot in there. I'm texting Tae to let him know that you're out here with me." After a minute, he tucked his phone away into his pocket and leaned against the balcony.

One of your hands was grasping on to the edge of the balcony, the other still occupied with a handful of napkins, an awkward silence falling over the both of you. Finding the words to start a half-way decent conversation with him was proving to be harder than you thought it would be, the potential topics just whizzing past you in your mind.

This was not the kind of circumstance you thought you would meet your crush under. You pictured something more natural like casually bumping into him on the dancefloor or sitting next to him at the bar and ordering the same drink as him. Maybe then you would've been able to strike up a conversation like 'Oh, you like that drink too?' but now, you just couldn't find the words to speak to him.

First off, you were mortified for having acted like some lovesick fan right to his face, and second of all, you had basically been pushed upon him and that was not exactly the natural meeting that you had envisioned. If one thing was for sure, you've never felt like more of a burden than you do right now.

"So–"

"So–"

You both spoke at the same time. You glanced up at him, catching the stunned look on his face and laughing anxiously.

"Are you... enjoying the party?" you asked him quietly, tilting your head up to observe him.

He hummed warmly, "Yeah, it's... It's nice," he told you, looking down at you with a soft smile.

"That's good," you nodded dumbly, scratching the back of your head. You decided to busy yourself by putting the napkins to use, patting the front of your dress and thighs down.

"So," Hoseok asked, "What'd my good friend do to you?"

His bubbly cheeks were pushed up into a kind smile, his brown eyes shining with the lights of the city below him. You noted the way the light breeze swept his dark ash-blond hair along his forehead, making you bite your cheek at how effortlessly handsome he looked in this environment.

"Oh he, uh, spilled his drink on me," you laughed lightheartedly, abandoning the napkins on a nearby table once you'd sufficiently dried yourself.

"That's a shame," Hoseok murmured. "It's a pretty dress. It's a pity he had to go and do that," he eyed the front of your dress where the threads that tied your sequin dress together were stained a light brown. It wasn't very noticeable and you were silently thanking yourself for not wearing something that would've made it more obvious. The idea of wearing a white dress to tonight's event made you shiver in horror.

Under the intensity of his gaze, you looked away, silently praying that your cheeks weren't beet red. "It's my sister's dress," you informed him, "she's busy hosting the party right now."

"Ah, so you're Hwasa's sister?" he asked you, evidently observing your face and piecing the genetic puzzle pieces together, "It's just, you guys look pretty similar."

"Yeah, she's my sister," you hummed, bracing your arms against the balcony.

You cleared your throat, "Uh, congratulations on your win for album of the year, by the way! You must be pretty happy," you told him, sparing him a thumbs up and a shy grin. Really? A thumbs up?

He quietly chuckled, "Thanks. Congratulations to your sister as well. Best female group, that's big."

"Yeah, I'm so proud of them," you silently squealed, your feet lightly hopping on the ground. "They worked so hard," you boasted, "Not to say that the other groups didn't work hard as well, I mean–"

"No, no, I get you," Hoseok interrupted you, giving you a look like he understood what you meant. "I didn't catch your name by the way," he told you, looking at you expectantly.

"Oh," you laughed. "My name's Y/N," you extended a hand to him which he completely encompassed with his own, giving your hand a gentle shake.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I'm Hoseok. But I've got a feeling you already knew that," he said to you with a cheeky smile on his face.

You inwardly groaned and crossed your arms over your chest, "I was hoping you'd forget about that," you giggled nervously.

"How could I possibly forget the girl in the silver dress? You must've been so embarrassed," he told you, his tone dripping with sarcasm, his eyes glittering with mischief.

You whined, "Oh my god, please stop," you pleaded, slapping his arm playfully. His chest rumbled with laughter and you leaned down to rest your head against your arms on the balcony.

"I'm just kidding," he grinned widely, nudging his knee against your thigh and softly patting your back with his hand.

With the warmth of his hand on your body, you stilled. Lifting your head to look up at him from your braced position, you saw the way he was looking at you. His half-lidded eyes and the intense look that held them made your breath hitch in your throat. He opened his mouth but then closed it, removing his hand from your back.

He cleared his throat and turned to lean his back against the balcony, turning his attention to the party, observing the thrums of people through the glass door. "Your sister really knows how to throw a party," he said aloud, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hope you were having a good time in there before Tae spilled his drink on you," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You straightened yourself up, following his position and leaning your back against the balcony. "A little bit," you told him. "I was actually planning on leaving anyway, I have some delicious packets of ramen and chocolate waiting at home for me. I'd hate to leave them waiting," you joked, rubbing your sequin-covered arms for warmth.

He looked at you and saw the way you shivered from the breeze. He shrugged off his black embroidered blazer, leaving himself in his tight fitted white button-up shirt. He placed his hand on the small of your back to gently push you away from the balcony, wordlessly placing his warm piece of clothing over your shoulders.

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Oh, you don't have to–"

"No, it's okay," he assured you, smiling down at you and shoving his hands into his pockets.

You looked down at your feet, pinching the fabric of his blazer with your hands, shrouding it closer to you. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, almost taking your breath away. It was nice, and it totally matched him. It was a flowery, oaky scent with hints of some sort of spice that you couldn't quite put your finger on at the moment, his shy smile and well-fitting button-up being far too distracting for your liking. "Thanks," you told him shyly, moving to brush a sliver of hair away from your face.

Hoseok was going to say something to you again until he stilled, bringing his phone out of his pocket. He brought it up to his ear and his brows were knit together in confusion.

"Woah, slow down. Are you okay? Yeah, it's fine. No, really. Just get Jungkook to take you home, take some medicine, and hydrate yourself. Mhm, yup. Yeah, I'll tell her. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," he brought his phone down from his ear, ending the call and shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Do you need to go?" you asked him, getting ready to return his blazer.

"No, no. It's just Taehyung. He said he's feeling a little sick so he's gonna go home with Jungkook, he should be fine," he told you, looking down at his feet. 

"Oh, no," you frowned, saddened to hear about Taehyung's sudden illness. It was strange. He didn't seem sick at all when you saw him earlier.

"He also wants me to tell you that he's sorry for spilling his drink on you and that he'll pay to get your dress cleaned," Hoseok added. 

You shook your head, "Tell him not to worry about it, I can clean it at home," you insisted, playing with the hem of your dress. You looked down at your front, examining it. It shouldn't be too hard to clean a sequin dress, right? There was no need for all that fuss.

He smiled at you, "Um, do you wanna come to my place?" he asked you suddenly, causing you to whip your head around to look up at him. Did he really just say what you think he said?

His brows were pushed together, a wince becoming apparent on his face. "N-not like that, of course! I just mean... You look like you could take a break away from this party, and to be honest, so can I," he reiterated. Now it was his turn to be nervous. "I actually don't live that far away and I've got some ramen and chocolate. We could have something to eat and then, uh, come back later if it's... cool with you. You don't have to–"

"I'd love to," you responded, the eagerness evident in your voice. You'd hoped that you didn't sound extremely desperate, not wanting to scare him off but the look on his face assured you that you had nothing to worry about.

His eyes gleamed with relief, his mouth wide open in disbelief. "O-okay, cool. Yeah, cool, um... Let's get out of here," he chuckled, extending his hand out to you. You looked at his hand, bewildered. After pointing at his face and acting like some crazy fan, you hadn't imagined that you'd find yourself in this position. You internally tried to slow down your heart rate, afraid that he might hear just how loud it was even over the booming music. Taking in a deep breath, your hand slipped into his awaiting one.

After texting your sister saying that you were with Hoseok and she'd sent you a series of keyboard smashed texts and emojis, both you and Hoseok found yourselves walking side by side down the street. Since he lived close by, he suggested that you both walked and you agreed, finding the silence in the street to be comforting.

Looking up to the sky, you saw the way the tiny but brilliant lights were twinkling across the wide expanse of the night sky. Hoseok was doing the same thing, though he'd sneak a glance at you and note how ethereal you looked under the light of the moon. When you thought he wasn't looking, you'd do the same thing, looking up at him like he was your world.

"So, what do you do?" Hoseok asked, turning to look at you with a curious expression.

You were brought out of your daze. "I'm a chef," you hummed quietly, kicking your feet in front of you, hands buried in the pockets of his blazer.

"A chef that eats ramen packets, I like it," he teased you, bumping your arm with his elbow. 

"Ramen packets are a cultural staple for a reason, Hoseok," you retorted, returning his bump with your own elbow. He snorted, his head hanging low with a wide grin.

You talked about your job with him, discussing your favorite cuisines and ranting about your least favorite food combinations, he nodded along, listening to you intently. "There's this anime show, 'Shokugeki No Soma', it's about this elite culinary school and one of the main character's loves to experiment with all these different kinds of food and this dude really loves experimenting with squid. It's like a staple failure for him, particularly the peanut butter squid. So one day, I tried to make this grilled squid with a peanut butter sauce and I have to say that it is probably one of the worst things I've ever made," you laughed wholeheartedly, slapping your thigh in jest. He chuckled after hearing your story, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, squid is a pretty hard ingredient to work with, and I can't imagine peanut butter being the door to it's brightest future," he added, laughing along with you.

You giggled, "Right?"

After sharing a few more stories about hilarious food failures with him, you both ended up at his apartment. It was big, the tall ceilings only managing to emphasize that. You drank in the neutral tones and simplistic design, jaw hanging wide at just how clean and amazing his place looked. As soon as you stepped through the door, the first thing you noticed was the large living room area with floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the lively city below the hills. Beside the living room was the kitchen and on the opposite side of the room was a hallway leading to a bunch of other doors.

The next thing to catch your eye was a large Murakami mural on one of the walls of his living room just behind his sofa, the signature flowers all smiling at you with its boldly colored petals paired with its simple lines and dots. It was undeniably gorgeous and something you kind of expected before you even got there, but that didn't prepare you for its beauty at all.

"Wow," you murmured to yourself, taking it all in with an astonished look on your face. "Make yourself comfortable," Hoseok encouraged you, gesturing towards the sofa in the living room.

Upon sitting down, you quietly groaned, stretching your arms out. The relief on your legs was a true blessing. You'd practically been standing all night, doing your best to satiate your energetic's sisters partying needs though your lack of rhythm and naturally awkward state which must've made you quite the sight on the dancefloor. And you wanted to do it anyway, you were proud of your sister's work and you wanted to show her just how happy you were for her but if you knew you were gonna be standing for so long, you would've tried to figure a way out of there much sooner.

Hoseok returned with two bottles of water in his hands, passing one to you. "What kind of ramen do you like?" he asked you, taking a sip from his water.

"I'm gonna say pork," you nodded to him, taking a gulp from your water bottle.

He snickered, "Pork, huh? A girl after my own heart," he grinned, putting his bottle down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. You quickly stopped yourself from screaming into your hands at his playful words, was this boy ever gonna stop being so charming? You were going to be in trouble soon if you didn't find something to busy yourself with.

"May I raid your kitchen?" you asked him, a brazen look in your eyes. 

He laughed and gestured for you to follow him to the kitchen, which you quickly did. Once you stepped into it, you weren't surprised to find that it was just like the rest of his apartment. It was big, tall, clean, embracing the neutral tones. It was almost twice the size of yours and Hwasa's kitchen. Shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the back of the kitchen counter stool, you watched as he opened one of his tall cupboards, stepping on his tippy toes to reach for the ramen at the top shelf. "What– Why is the ramen all the way at the top?" you asked him, mouth hanging open in shock. "That's so height-ist of you."

"No, it's because Jimin keeps coming here and eating all of it before I even get to open the packaging," Hoseok snickered, placing two packets of pork flavored ramen on the kitchen island.

You hummed quietly to yourself, "Still sounds height-ist to me."

He smirked to himself, picking a medium-sized pot from the pot rack above the kitchen island. "So what do you put with your ramen noodles?" you asked him, leaning your arms on the countertop, propping your chin up in the palm of your hand.

"What do you mean?" he asked you, breaking the noodles out of their packets and placing them in the pot.

Your brows were scrunched in confusion, "What do you mean what do I mean? You put additional ingredients in your ramen, right?" you asked him, looking at him expectantly.

Hoseok shrugged carelessly, filling the pot with water. "Hoseok, please say sike," you pleaded with him but he continued to go about his business, not bothering to answer your question.

"Oh my god– Permission to raid your refrigerator?" you asked him, already hopping out of your seat. 

"Permission granted," Hoseok bowed to you jokingly. "Man, I should've known that letting a chef into my kitchen was gonna make me feel inadequate in the cooking department," he snorted, placing the pot onto the stove and igniting the flames.

"Don't think about it like that, you gotta be more positive!" you suggested cheerfully. "Think of it as though you're learning something new and exciting and life-changing," you grinned at him, opening the refrigerator. He looked at you with perplexity but agreed nonetheless, watching you rummage through his fridge. He was skeptical. At the party, he noted that you really seemed out of your element but as soon as you'd stepped into his kitchen, he watched as you quickly evolved from your timid, polite self to the confident, polite chef that you were right now.

"Aha!" you grinned triumphantly. Spotting the ingredients you wanted in the fridge, you went back and forth taking them out of their compartments and placing them on to the countertop.

Hoseok watched on with an amused expression, leaning back against the bench with his arms crossed over his chest, observing how you meticulously laid the ingredients out neatly in front of you. The bottle of soy sauce, mung bean sprouts, the wrapped package labeled 'pork belly', carrots, scallions, eggs, and capsicums looked extremely inviting to you. You glanced at Hoseok to gauge his reaction which was a mixture of impressed and humored.

"Salt and pepper?" you asked him, bringing him out of his daze. "The what? Oh, salt and pepper? Um," he opened the cupboard and summoned the salt and pepper grinders, placing them next to your neatly laid out rows of ingredients. 

"Oh, wait," you said to him, biting your lip nervously. "Uh, can you roll my sleeves up for me? I think my hand is sticky from the soy sauce," you asked him shyly, extending your arms out to him.

He smiled and wordlessly reached his hands out, the tips of his fingers softly working to neatly fold your sleeves. You held your breath while he worked on the fabric, his warm fingers brushing over your forearms which was definitely making the neurons in your system spontaneously combust.

"Okay, let's get to work," you smirked at him, eagerly anticipating the awaiting cooking session. "Let's get to work," Hoseok echoed your words with a smile, fetching some aprons from a nearby drawer. He pulled out his phone and started playing some music as the two of you got to work.

Cooking with him was fun, you thought to yourself. He showed off his impressive knife collection which made your jaw drop. They looked custom made and... really sharp, which made you squeal on the inside. A good, sharp knife set was enough to make any good chef drop to their knees and swoon. 

After he put the eggs in a separate pot and began boiling them, he washed the vegetables and watched how you diced and sliced away at the ingredients with ease, the knife dragging through the flesh of the vegetables like butter. As you went along, you explained to him why you chose this ingredient and that ingredient, continuing to guide your knife along the face of the chopping board.

You let him take over, handing him the knife. His hand glided over yours, taking the handle from beneath your palm, the contact causing your heart to skip a beat. You placed the cut of pork belly on the chopping board and suggested he trim off the excess fat and cut the pork into neat strips. He took your suggestion and followed through beautifully. Watching him work attentively with food was something you could get used to.

While he cut the pork, you took a turn at the eggs and the noodles. You strained the water into a bowl and quickly mixed in the seasoning packets and a few dashes of the soy sauce, leaving the noodles in the strainer. It took you less than a minute to peel both the eggs, gently pressing them and getting that gut feeling that they were cooked just right. 

Hoseok took the initiative to put the pork cutlet slices into a frying pan. He caught you looking at him and he gave you a proud smile, turning his attention back to the slices, flipping them over with his chopsticks. You bit your cheek and put your focus towards cutting the eggs in half, preparing them for presentation.

With a ladle, you evenly divided the soup mixture into two awaiting bowls, gently placing the noodles into the broth.

Atop the noodles, you placed the julienned carrots and capsicums, scallion slices, and mung bean sprouts. Hoseok warned you that he was coming up from behind you with the frying pan and he did you the courtesy of layering a couple of slices of the pork belly on one side of each of the noodle bowls. You placed the egg halves on the opposite side of the bowl and grabbed the salt and pepper grinders, speedily cracking the seasonings over the completed dish.

"Voila!" you cheered, handing him a clean pair of chopsticks. "God, I've been craving this all night," you murmured, tucking into your food with fervor.

Hoseok looked at the bowls in awe, a low whistle escaping his lips, "I had this in my kitchen the whole time?" he picked up the chopsticks, sliding his bowl closer to him.

He collected the sliced vegetables and the noodles between the utensils, bringing it to his mouth, closely followed by a slice of the pork belly and a portion of the soft-boiled egg. His eyes closed and he moaned at the flavors that developed in his mouth. The soft texture of the noodles paired with the sweet, fresh crunch of the vegetables was enough to make his knees weak. The pork and the egg complimented the dish perfectly.

While he ate, Hoseok was quietly watching you from the corner of his eye, slurping his noodles in silence. He saw the way you visibly savored each and every bite of your food, finding himself entranced with the way you licked your lips to collect the delicious dew that was the noodle broth. You glanced his way, smiling with strands of noodles trapped between your lips when you caught him looking at you. 

He chuckled at your humorous display, shaking his head at you and finishing off the remainder of his meal.

Hoseok admittedly felt a little foreign in the kitchen at first. He hadn't cooked a proper meal like that in a while. Since his ex preferred to order in or go to a restaurant, his kitchen had basically lost its purpose over the course of his relationship with her and consequentially, after the relationship. He'd gotten so used to just cooking ready-made meals or ordering food that he'd forgotten how good it felt to actually make something so fulfilling.

"Well, damn," he said to you, patting his stomach with a satisfied look on his face. "That was probably the best home-cooked ramen I've ever had," he confessed, earning him the sight of your blushed cheeks which he secretly relished. "But don't tell my mom I said that, she might kill me," he added.

"I promise," you assured him with a lighthearted giggle. "I could probably show you how to make the noodles from scratch, that's what I usually do if I have the time, otherwise I just use ramen packets."

Color him impressed. He looked at you with a wide grin and he was flushed at the prospect of seeing you again in the future, no matter the context. "If you teach me how to make noodles, I think it's only fair I give you something in return."

Your cheeks turned red, "Maybe you could teach me how to dance. Unlike my sister, I was born without rhythm," you laughed, pressing your hands to your face to try and hide the redness.

He struggled to suppress his smiling, his cheeks beginning to ache. "It's a deal."

The pair of you collected the dishes and you helped him to clean up the kitchen. As you wiped down the countertops and discarded the scraps, he washed the dishes and placed them on the drying rack. 

When you were both finished, you removed the apron and let out a sigh of relief. He eyed you curiously and asked, "Do you want a change of clothes? I can grab something more comfortable if you'd like."

"Ah, I think I've imposed on you enough–" you began to say before he raised his hand. 

"Just say yes," he smiled down at you kindly, waiting for your response.

"Y... Yes," you finally said to him, fidgeting with your hands.

Your feet silently padded against the floor, following him as he turned down the corridor. When he stepped into what you assumed was his room, you waited patiently at the door for him. He returned with a sweatshirt in one hand and sweatpants in the other, he pushed the clothes into your hands and he showed you where the bathroom was.

"W-wait!" you called out to him before he left. He turned around, looking at you expectantly.

"My, uh," your murmured, "Dress... Can you unzip it for me?"

Hoseok paused and he went to say something but thought against it, speechlessly returning to the bathroom door where you were waiting. You turned around for him and moved your hair away from your neck, exposing the tab to the zipper. You felt his warm breath fan out against your skin, undoubtedly making you shiver in his wake. You were silently hoping that he didn't see.

Behind you, you could hear him exhale a shaky breath as he gripped the tab and slowly pulled it down. As he pulled, the fabric spread over the width of your back, revealing your soft, tan skin to him. He let go of the zipper once it'd reached the small of your back, quickly looking up to the ceiling to avoid your gaze. 

Turning around, you saw him looking away from you which made you snort in laughter. Deliberately trying to fluster him wasn't your intention but you'd do it again if it meant you got to see him like this again. You gently pressed your hand against his chest so he was out of the way of the door. You closed it in front of his face and tried your best to suppress your giggles.

On the other side of the door, Hoseok was yet to remove his gaze from the ceiling. He felt trapped in this position, the only thing he could feel was the remaining warmth of your hand on his chest. He had not been in such an intimate position since... Her.

This wasn't the time to be thinking about her.

He shook himself out of his paralysis, moving swiftly to a more appropriate location. He didn't want to imagine the look on your face if you'd open the door to find him still standing outside waiting for you.

Hoseok waited patiently on the sofa, fiddling with the remote and turning on his Netflix.

Wow. If the ramen wasn't suggestive enough, then the Netflix one was gonna be the nail to his unintentionally suggestive coffin. Maybe he should change it to YouTube, he thought to himself before you stepped out of the shadows of the corridor.

As soon as he saw you, his breath hitched in his throat. The black sweatshirt he had lent to you was far too big, almost dwarfing your small form entirely. It ended just above your knees and you'd rolled the sleeves up to your wrists. The cuffs of his grey sweatpants were also rolled up, wrapped thickly against your shins. On the one hand, you felt that you looked a little silly but you were thankful for the drastic change in comfort. On the other hand, the only word on Hoseok's mind upon seeing his clothes on you was 'adorable'.

"Thanks for this," you quipped, spreading your arms out and doing a spin for him. Hoseok smirked and quietly laughed at your display, running a hand through his hair.

He cleared his throat and motioned you over to the sofa, "Does the chef have any recommendations?" he asked you in jest, looking at you in suspense. You giggled at his mention of 'chef', tucking a hair behind your ear shyly. 

"So ramen was the main course, and for desert... I think maybe a nature documentary is on the menu," you quirked an eyebrow at him, eager for his reaction to your suggestion. He smiled, leaning back into the soft cushioning of his sofa.

"Nature documentary it is," he echoed your words with a soft smirk. You smiled up at him gently, shifting further back and situating yourself into the cushions. He dimmed down the lights and grabbed a neatly folded pile of fluffy blankets from the opposite end of the couch, placing one of the fluffy fabrics over you before wrapping himself in his own blanket.

When the nature series had begun, you were less than a foot away from him, snuggling your warm blanket and animatedly sharing your thoughts on what you thought the best qualities were of each and every animal that came across the screen. He'd turn to look at you every time you started one of your mini speeches, listening intently to what you had to say.

After three episodes, Hoseok had managed to inch closer to you by jumping every time there was a particularly alarming cutscene of some predator in their natural habitat. It wasn't on purpose. In fact, he was contemplating changing the show but hearing your stifled giggles at the expense of his masculinity was totally worth it.

Another episode had passed and with his adrenaline coursing through his veins, anticipating the next frightening cutscene, Hoseok was nowhere near being sleepy but you had other ideas. You had unexpectedly slumped your head against his shoulder, softly snoring away. He almost jumped when you'd made contact, his survival instincts kicking in once a snake had appeared on the screen. 

He contemplated waking you up but decided against it, softening at the sight of how peaceful you looked. His head tilted to get a better look at your face, his eyes roving over each light freckle gracing your nose and cheeks, their parallel shapes being burned into his memory. The lights from the television screen danced across your sleeping form, the loose strands of hair on your face casting shadows upon your skin. You shifted in your sleep, subconsciously wetting your pouty lips before returning to your motionless state. He was amazed that the booming sound effects from the documentary went by you completely unfazed.

Hoseok took this opportunity to sweep back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. He hadn't done something like that in a while and he was sure that the simple action alone had just discombobulated everything inside his chest. It wasn't because he was in such an intimate space with just some girl, it was because he was in an intimate space with you. Granted, you weren't exactly awake so he stopped himself from staring at you any longer, knowing he'd live with the guilt of being some sort of pervert when his whole purpose of the night was to be a gentleman.

Resist the urge, damn it!

He couldn't exactly help himself though. Over the short course of the night, you had managed to make an impact on him. You'd been thrust upon him so abruptly after Taehyung had spilled his drink on you, and though the scale of the action was so small, it had felt so life-changing. So far you'd displayed your talent for cooking, your love for nature and you'd proved to him that you could match his wit when you were in a comfortable space.

Plus she's the Hwasa's sister, Hoseok thought to himself, she's already used to the lifestyle of being in the proximity of an idol. That is definitely a plus.

He decided that when morning comes, he would ask if you would like to join him for coffee or lunch, excited at the prospect of getting to see you again in the future.

Silently grabbing the remote beside him, he changed the program to something more sleep-friendly. Hoseok flipped through the suggestions and finally decided to change it to Frozen. He clicked on it and nodded off to sleep with a kind, talented, pretty girl on his shoulder. Hoseok felt like he was on top of the world.

You woke up to a loud pinging noise, squinting at the white lights that attacked your vision when you'd fully gained your consciousness. You'd quickly come to realize that you were not in your own room. In fact, the reason for that uncomfortable ache in your neck was because you'd been using Hoseok's thigh as a pillow. With widened eyes, you suddenly felt the weight of his arm on your side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist. 

He looked so tranquil in his sleep, his mouth slightly agape and quiet snores escaping in sync with the rise and fall of his chest. You couldn't believe that you'd fallen asleep on him. He was still in his clothes from the night before, his button-up and black slacks creased all the way to hell, which meant he probably felt too awkward to try and shift you off of him and stayed there so he wouldn't wake you.

Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you groaned to yourself, lifting your head off of his lap. The source of the ping was coming from a phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa. When you picked it up you realized that while it was the same model, it was definitely not your phone. You were about to put it back down until the screen flashed back to life, revealing a notification that made your heart stop.

Calendar: 10 Month Anniversary with Babygirl Moon. Would you like to share?

Holy shit. Jung Hoseok has a girlfriend?

You were mortified beyond belief. You'd just fallen asleep on top of some girl's boyfriend. To make matters worse, his lock screen image was of himself but at the bottom of the image, you could clearly see him holding someone's smaller, feminine hand. If you were in that person's position, you definitely would've been pissed to find how close you and Hoseok had become over the course of the night. But, surely Hoseok would've told you if he was in a relationship... Right? You should've at least spotted some of the signs but there were no physical indications anywhere in the apartment. Where were the spare slippers at the front door? Where was the spare toothbrush in the bathroom? Where was the feminine touch?

The lack of signs didn't exactly eliminate the idea that he had a whole ass girlfriend out there just vibing. That girl was probably 100% oblivious to the fact that some practical stranger was trying to cozy up to her boyfriend, being all intimate and flirtatious with him. The thought of it alone made you cringe with guilt. He was just being a gentleman the whole night. Did he feel sorry for you because you'd humiliated yourself when you saw him for the first time? That must've been it...

Trying to withhold the tears that were threatening to spill over, you moved quietly to avoid waking him up. Moving silently around the apartment, you collected your belongings. The last thing to do was grab your dress which you'd left neatly folded in the bathroom. When you got there, you considered putting it back on so you could take off Hoseok's incredibly comfortable clothes but you'd never be able to zip the dress up on your own.

You didn't want to wake him up to do it for you, no, you wanted to leave without a trace. It was embarrassing for you to think that you could've had something special with him when it was now clear that he had something special with someone else.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw just how idiotic you looked. There were dried dribble marks on the corners of your mouth and one of the tails of your winged liner was smudged away from sleep. Your hair was neat for the most part, save for the back part which had hair sticking out in every direction. Gosh, you didn't know what you would have done if he'd woken up first to see you like this. Quickly cleaning yourself up with the help of some water and the grace of God, you determined that you looked semi-presentable.

You sent a text to Hwasa to pick you up at Hoseok's apartment, in return you received an excess of all kinds of emojis, they appeared to mostly be winky faces and different colored hearts which helped to lift your spirits a little bit. The only thing to do now was to get ready to escape this nightmare you'd found yourself in. You couldn't bear to be there a second longer. The longer you thought about it, the more it made your heart sink. You could've sworn that you felt a connection with him but after knowing he had a girlfriend, you saw your memories of the previous night through a different lens.

Maybe he was just doing everything for you out of kindness, you could see now that you were just some obligation for him.

Shaking away the tear-jerking thoughts, you stepped into the foyer. Pressing your hand to the front door, you struggled to tug your heels back on in silence, dropping your dress and your phone from its weak grip in your underarm, making the items land on the floor with a sharp thwack. 

It seemed that the noise was loud enough to wake up the host, your eyes spotting his fluffy hair emerging over the arm of the sofa. He sat up slightly, reaching out his arms and stretching his neck with a loud yawn. If you weren't so preoccupied, you would've felt compelled to giggle at how cute he looked.

He turned to the source of the noise that woke him up, eyeing you in your awkward position. With one leg raised in the air and one of your fingers tugging on the heel loop of your difficult heels, you just knew you looked silly. As soon as he saw you, he spared you a lazy chuckle and a soft wave of his hand. "Good morning," he said to you, his raspy morning voice sending shivers down your spine. 

"Gosh, what time is it? Do you have somewhere to be? I can take you there if you want–" he rubbed his eyes tiredly, but you decided that you wouldn't let him finish his sentence, his kindness only managing to inadvertently humiliate you further.

"Hoseok, my sister's coming to pick me up," you told him abruptly, lifting your head up high.

He raised his eyebrows at you, surprised at your tone. "Oh, o-okay," he responded lightly, his shoulders drooping a little.

"Thank you for taking care of me last night, I really enjoyed your company. I'll have your clothes cleaned and sent back to you," you pointed at the sweatshirt and sweatpants that he'd lent to you, "And I would like to reimburse you for the food that I ate. I also hope that you and your girlfriend have a wonderful 10 month anniversary," you bowed to him, using all your strength tug on your heel. You bent down and picked up your sequin dress and phone.

"Wait!" Hoseok called out to you, stumbling off of the sofa and tripping up over his own feet, almost smacking his face on the floor. He was trying to absorb all the information that you'd just laid on him, his mind crossing over every detail. Enjoyed his company? Clean and return his clothes? Reimburse him for his food? He couldn't believe it. Before he could speak, he was interrupted by the ping of his phone. He quickly grabbed the device to silence it and his heart sank in his chest upon seeing the calendar reminder flashing on his screen, accentuated by his lock screen image which was of him holding his ex-girlfriend's hand.

He just knew right then and there that you'd seen it. 

I also hope that you and your girlfriend have a wonderful 10 month anniversary.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Y/N, this isn't what it looks like!" he implored, rushing to get to his feet but he ended up slipping again, the culprit being the blanket you were sleeping with last night.

You ignored his pleading, giving him one final bow. "Goodbye, Hoseok."

You slipped past his front door, closing it behind you.

"No," he murmured, kicking the blanket away and running to the front door. "No, no, no," he repeated to himself, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. Ripping his door open, he saw the doors to the elevator closing. Running out, he reached it just in time for the barricades to close right in front of his face. He repeatedly pressed the button but to no avail. Looking to the top of the elevator entrance, he saw the numbers above it declining, indicating that you were already descending to the ground floor.

"Shit!" Hoseok said to himself, sprinting for the stairs. He'd hadn't run this fast since the relays at the ISAC's, his lungs burning by the time he'd reached the bottom. He spotted you at the gateway to the apartment complex, sliding into a black car with a saddened look on your face. By the time he'd reached the outside gates, it was too late. He watched pathetically as the car sped away along with you in it.

Hoseok stopped himself from trying to chase after the car down the narrow street, his hands angrily fisting in his hair, the burn of his scalp doing nothing to ebb the thumping in his chest. Right now, the only thing he felt like doing was bang his head against a brick wall. How could he be so dense?

If anything was gonna motivate him to do delete those stupid calendar reminders and those images of him and his ex, watching you drive away was gonna do it. Fixing his mistake was of the utmost paramount right now. 

"Hyung!" Jimin cheered upon seeing Hoseok enter their room.

"Ah, I hope you had fun last night, hyung," Taehyung winked, nudging Jimin with his elbow.

"What?" Hoseok furrowed his brows, looking at the pair of mischievous boys sitting before him in speculation.

Jimin smiled proudly, shuffling on the sofa to make space for Hoseok to sit down between him and Taehyung. "Hyung! We're the ones who set you up with that pretty girl up."

Hoseok sat down between them, surprised at hearing that the events of last night were the result of Jimin and Taehyung's plan.

"Mhm, I spilled my drink on her on purpose then left her with you," Taehyung said, waggling his eyebrows at his hyung. "We heard you left the party with her. What was she like and what'd you guys do? Come on, tell us!" 

Hoseok stayed silent, wringing his hands in his lap. He was happy to know that the boys were trying their best for him but his recent loss was still reeling in his mind, the dismayed expression evident on his face.

"Hyung?" Jimin asked, his tone laced with worry, his gentle eyes roving over his older friend's face. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed and let out a shaky breath. "I had a great time with her, like an amazing time but... I fucked it up because I'm such an idiot."

Taehyung frowned at his disconcerting words. "What happened?"

He explained the events of last night. 

Taking you out to the balcony and having that pleasant conversation with you.

Asking you to come to his place.

Cooking ramen together.

Lending you his clothes, noting how adorable you looked.

Falling asleep together while watching the nature documentary together. Hoseok purposefully left out the part where he changed the program to a Disney movie.

"I don't see what's wrong," Jimin commented, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, me too," Taehyung added, sharing a confused look.

Hoseok hesitated to tell them what initially went wrong but decided that if he told them, maybe they could offer up a solution to his problem.

"I think you guys know that I've been struggling to get over my relationship with my ex," Hoseok began, clearing his throat. "It's been five months since we've been separated and it's been hard for me to move on from her, y'know? I put a lot of love and energy into my relationship with her so for it to end so suddenly, it hasn't exactly been easy for me to just 'get over it'. Because of that, I haven't had the heart change my lock screen, which is a photo of me holding her hand and I still had a monthly reminder of my anniversary on my phone's calendar," he admitted to them, hanging his head down low.

"When I woke up this morning, she had all of her things and she was getting ready to leave. She told me that she 'hoped I'd have a wonderful 10 month anniversary with my girlfriend'. That's when I knew she saw the anniversary reminder on my phone," he sniffled, swiping his fingers under his eyes to remove the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. "It just really sucks because I had a really good time with her. It was the best I'd felt in a long time and I feel like we had a connection last night but I think she might hate me now. So, yeah, I'm an idiot."

Jimin and Taehyung looked at each other, sharing a look of sorrow and shock.

"I don't know what to do," Hoseok told them, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. He buried his head in his hands, groaning pathetically.

"Hyung, it's gonna be fine," Taehyung rubbed his back reassuringly. 

Jimin hummed quietly, "You should go and find Joonie-hyung. If anyone has some sort of connection with her, it's gotta be him. Dude is so whipped for her big sister it's almost embarrassing."

Hwasa. That's right. Hoseok lifted his head out of his hands, feeling like a light bulb was hovering above his head. He pulled Jimin and Taehyung into a hug, thanking them both for their help.

When he left the room, the pair of them sighed in content, feeling a little closer to their hyung for the first time in a long time. "He'll be fine," Taehyung said to Jimin, bringing his feet up to rest in the smaller boy's lap. "Yeah," Jimin concurred, excited at the prospect of their hyung getting back to his old self. 

As soon as Hoseok opened the door to the living room, he felt Jungkook whizzing right past him, slamming the door shut behind him to barricade himself in Tae and Jimin's room. "Come here you little brat!" Seokjin shouted, chasing after the maknae with a scowl on his face. Ignoring their loud tirade and the sleeping Yoongi on the living room sofa, Hoseok made a beeline to Namjoon's room.

He opened the door quietly and found that his bandmate was having a hushed conversation on the phone. Stepping forward, he could hear him clearly. "Baby, you don't understand! Yes, I'll talk to him... I know you're upset, but you have to hear me out," he heard Namjoon sighing into his phone.

"Is that Hwasa?" Hoseok asked him, not really caring for the nature of his call.

Namjoon turned around and looked at him with a bewildered expression, "What? Dude, how long have you been standing there?" he asked him. 

"Long enough," Hoseok mumbled, stepping forward and snatching the phone out of Namjoon's hands. Before he was able to protest, Hoseok was already turning his back to him, bringing the phone to his ears.

"Ooh, when I see him I'm gonna kill him. You know that, right? I can't believe he would make my sister cry like that. It broke my damn heart seeing that, Joonie."

After hearing that he'd made Y/N cry, Hoseok winced, feeling a tinge of pain flourishing in his chest. Putting her threats to the side, he spoke up. "Hwasa?"

There was a pause. "Is this you, Hoseok?"

"... Yeah."

Upon hearing that it was the subject of her call with Namjoon, she really jumped off. "What the hell is wrong with you, Jung Hoseok? Huh? Why on earth would you take my sister home with you if had a girlfriend? You have a lot of nerve doing that to my sister. When I see you–"

"It was a misunderstanding!"

"Interrupt me again and I'll become your worst nightmare, do you understand me?" Baffled by her dark choice of words, Hoseok was going to respond with a 'Yes' until she cut him off again. "Don't answer that. Now, as I was saying, when I see you again, I'm gonna rip you a new one and choke slam you so hard that your ancestors will feel it."

"Hwasa, I can explain everything."

"She really liked you, you know that right?"

Hoseok choked upon hearing the abrupt news and her usage of the past tense. 'Liked'. "W-well–"

"God, she's baking up a damn storm in there, I feel like the atmosphere is gonna be 20% flour by the time she's done,"

He was confused that she'd add such a strange detail to her argument.

"She bakes when she's sad, Hoseok."

Oh.

"And by the looks of the triple-tiered cakes and the muffins taking over our apartment, it wouldn't take a genius to know that, yeah, she's pretty bummed out."

Hoseok had never felt so bad in his entire life. He was scolding himself internally. If only he just had the strength to just delete those stupid reminders earlier, this all could've been avoided.

"Hwasa, could you send me your address? I'd really like to talk to her in person."

He could hear her scoffing on the other side of the line. "Ha! Yeah, as if I'd do that. You probably just wanna make sure she doesn't blab to the public about your girlfriend. Well, guess what? She's actually a considerate human being so rest assured, you have nothing to worry about."

She had ended the call with him, the monotonous tone filling his ears. "Hello? Hwasa?"

Hoseok cursed, looking at the end call screen on the phone. He looked to Namjoon who'd been watching him the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Joon, you have to help me," Hoseok pleaded, his whole appearance screaming desperation. Namjoon softened at the sight of him, stepping forward to swing an arm around his shoulder.

"I heard about what happened, I tried to explain it to her but she was too busy ranting about you," Namjoon told him, patting his back comfortingly.

"I messed up big time and I really need to explain myself to her in person. I really like her, man," Hoseok murmured quietly. "I've never felt this way about someone before."

Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "I'll help you out, don't worry."

Despite his bandmate's encouraging words, Hoseok was worried as hell. He double-checked the apartment number in his note's app. His knuckles rapped against the door and he waited nervously for a few seconds for the door to open, which it did, revealing a shocked Hwasa. She slammed the door in his face and he winced, hanging his head down low.

A few more seconds passed and he could hear her screaming from the other side of the door.

"You gave him my address!? Damn it, Joonie!"

The shouting continued for another minute, Hoseok awkwardly dawdling in the hallway outside her apartment.

Suddenly, the door opened. Hwasa stepped forward, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him inside. Hoseok was about to protest but was cut off by the slam of the door behind him. He only had a second to observe their apartment before Hwasa started hitting him on the arm.

"Yah!" Hoseok cried out, rubbing his arm to soothe the pain. 

"I can't believe you," Hwasa seethed, glaring at him.

Hoseok stuttered, asking her, "I-is she here?" 

"No. Now explain yourself, Jung Hoseok," she demanded of him, crossing her arms over her chest with an enraged look in her eyes.

And so he did. He spent five minutes explaining to her how he genuinely enjoyed his time with her sister, talking about how you saw the evidence of his struggles in getting over his ex-girlfriend, mistakenly believing it to be something that it wasn't. He finished off his explanation, looking at her expectantly.

While she silently to take in all of his information, he took the opportunity to look all around their apartment. It was very homely and warm. The living room, where Hoseok and Hwasa sat, was amazing. He saw the family photos scattered around the walls, the vibrant flowers on the coffee table giving the monotone room a pop of color. Hoseok turned his head to see the kitchen which was littered with baked goods of all kinds. Though the sight of the colorful tiered cakes, muffins, and cupcakes was mouthwatering, knowing the reason behind their creation was crushing his soul. 

"It smells amazing in here." Hoseok quipped in an attempt to fill the silence.

"It's the cinnamon," she murmured, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. I see what the issue was but I see another one here," she told him. "I simply refuse to let my sister be some kind rebound for you."

Hoseok launched out of his seat, "Rebound? Of course, she's not a rebound!" he insisted, his face flushed.

"You must've broken up with that girl recently to still have those calendar reminders on your phone," she rolled her eyes at him. Hoseok sat back down slowly, anxiously running a hand through his hair.

"Actually," he began saying, "We broke up five months ago."

Hwasa's jaw dropped. "FIVE MONTHS!?" she shouted. She took off one of her slippers and threw at him, outraged at his confession. 

"You know that makes it worse, right?" she told him, leaning back in her chair with that disapproving look seemingly stuck on her face.

Hoseok exhaled noisily, burying his head in his hands. "I know how it sounds," he told her. "I really do, I know I was stupid. But Hwasa, please. I just need a second chance."

He looked at her expectantly, his eyes wide and glossy with sadness. She softened at his desperate display, sighing and rubbing her temples. 

"Let me tell you something about my sister, Jung Hoseok. My sister is a kind, sweet, and intelligent woman. She's passionate beyond belief and she'll talk your ear off if you let her. I love her more than anything in the world, do you understand?"

Hoseok nodded rapidly, his soft hair bouncing around his head.

"Okay, good. She's on the roof," Hwasa said to him, keeping a trained eye on him. Hoseok shot out of his chair, bowing to her. "Thank you," he told her earnestly, turning to go to the door but she grabbed him by the shoulder, making him face her. 

Hwasa tugged on his shirt so he was leaning forward enough so her mouth was at height with his ear. "If you do some stupid shit that makes my sister cry again, I will shatter your world. M'kay?" she told him, patting his shoulder softly with a confident smirk. He gulped, standing back to his full height. Even though Hwasa was substantially shorter than him and had the face of an angel, she managed to shake him to the core, effectively making him frightened of her.

"Erm, understood," Hoseok gulped, bowing one last time before stepping out the door.

Hwasa flopped back onto the sofa with a groan, "Ugh, men."

His journey to the roof of the apartment building took longer than he expected. Hoseok opted to take the stairs so he had time to think of how he wanted to word out his apology, wanting it to be nothing short of mind-bending and spectacular, or at least good enough that you'd want to share some more ramen with him in the future.

Meanwhile, you were busy tending to the communal garden, pruning the fruits and vegetables diligently. The sun was beating down on you in all your denim overall glory, your sunhat doing a great job of protecting your face from the harsh rays. You were collecting some ripe vegetables from the garden, brushing the dirt and debris away with your gloved hands, placing them gently into the woven basket next to your feet.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Taking off your gloves, you took out your phone and saw three notifications. Two of them were texts and the other was from the Weverse app.

[BTS Weverse] j-hope shared a moment with you!

Message from Queen Wheein: Good afternoon babe, did I leave my tweezers in your room yesterday? lemme know asap, thx ^_^

Message from Hyejin-eonnieee: good luck xxx

While your sister's text was quite strange and vague and Wheein's inquiry managing to make you chuckle, your curiosity got the better of you, your thumb opting to tap on the Weverse notification. The app sprung to life and the screen loaded for a second before showing you a picture from Hoseok's story. To your surprise, it was a photo of the ramen you'd both cooked the night before, captioned with a small 'best ramen I've had in a long time' at the top right in bold text.

You couldn't recall seeing him take a photo of the meal the night before, making you scratch your head. What was equally confusing was why he even posted the photo. Was he just trying to rub salt in the wound?

With a scowl, you turned your phone off and went back to the task at hand, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

Picking up a small spool of twine and scissors from your basket, you pulled on the string, cutting it off when it was about the length of your hand. You wrapped the string around the mung bean sprouts, tying it off and pulling the sprouts from the roots leaving you with a neat little bundle.

"Hey," someone spoke up behind you, alarming you. You shrieked and fell back onto your butt, groaning at the suddenness, accidentally knocking over your basket at the same time. "Oh, shit– I'm so sorry, are you okay?" the voice said again, the familiarity making your stomach sink. Suddenly, Hwasa's text made sense.

You pushed back the brim of your sun hat to see Hoseok kneeling beside you, his hand on your back. 

"Oh my god, why– what are you doing here?" you asked him, rushing to take a stand, brushing the dust off of your backside.

Hoseok dropped his hand away from your back, visibly hesitating to speak. "I... Uh, shit," he scrunched his nose, running his hand through his hand. "I wanted to apologize to you," he blurted out.

"Apologize for what? I was the one that was overstepping the boundaries," you told him. "But, it would've been nice, y'know, if you told me that you had a girlfriend," you shrugged, turning your back to him, bending down to place your vegetables back into your basket. 

"Y/N, I don't have a girlfriend," he told you, kneeling back down to help you gather the vegetables. Hoseok realized that they all looked familiar. In the basket were the exact same vegetables you'd both eaten the night before with your ramen noodles. The carrots, capsicum, scallions, and the bundle of mung bean sprouts looking ridiculously tempting. 

You paused your movements, hand hovering over the red capsicum on the ground. "B-but..." you murmured, eyes connecting with his. 

"I know you saw the picture and the anniversary reminder," Hoseok said to you, his hand grabbing hold of the handle of the basket. "And, yes, I did have a girlfriend but we broke up five months ago," he bit his lip, looking slightly abashed. "I've been in a pretty low place ever since the relationship so I haven't exactly had the strength to update a lot of basic things in my life, like my calendar..."

"And your lock screen?" You asked him quietly, looking up at him sympathetically.

"And my lock screen," he added, a sad smile on his face. "It's been rough. I haven't been putting as much effort into my work as I should've been and I could feel myself growing tired with the things that usually made me happy," he said, that little voice in the back of his mind scolding him for sharing more details than he ought to.

"I was a little reluctant to go to that party last night but then I met you and you flipped my world inside out. A-and I don't know if it was you that made things seem brighter or if it was the sparkly dress of yours," he chuckled to himself, "But if it's all the same to you, I'd really, really, like to see you again in the near future. I'm hoping that I'm not the only one that felt that connection last night, but if I am then I completely understand if this is making you uncomfortable and... I'll leave if you want me to–"

"No!" you shouted, grabbing his arm, effectively anchoring him to the spot. "Wait, don't go please, I'm sorry," you apologized to him, dropping your hand from his arm. 

"Sorry for what?" he asked you quietly, his brows knit together. He slowly reached towards you, taking your hand in his. "Don't be sorry. I was the idiot and I can't believe it took me this long to realize that much better things existed in the world," he said to you, his eyes boring into yours.

The words you wanted to say were stuck in your mouth, his intense gaze making your knees weak. And to think that he had a girlfriend this whole time... You couldn't believe that the man you had liked for so long was saying all these breathtaking words. If two things were for sure, it was that Jung Hoseok was single and you were embarrassed yet again for being so quick to your judgment.

"It was wrong of me to be so presumptuous," you bit your lip anxiously. 

A lighthearted scoff escaped his lips, "Trust me, it wasn't. I know what it looked like and I can tell you that I would've done the same thing," he said to you, his thumbs lightly running over your knuckles, his gentle gestures making your heart flutter. His reassurance made you melt into his touch, your head tilting to look up to gaze at him warmingly.

He cleared his throat, "But, um, just for future reference, I would never flirt with another girl if I was in a relationship... Just saying," he grinned widely at your giggles, gripping your hand just a little tighter.

"So that really was flirting," you said to him, eyeing the way his thumb gently caressed the skin on the back of your hand. "I thought I was just imagining that."

"So was I, to be honest," he told you, "But then your sister told me you had a crush on me, it was all the reassurance I needed. It also makes my day, like, a thousand times better," he grinned, his other hand coming up to rub your arm.

Your eyes widened, jaw hanging low. Son of a... "Oh my god," you cringed, grabbing the brim of your sun hat to bring it over your face. "Please just let me die," you groaned pathetically, letting go of his hand and squatting down so he couldn't see you.

You could hear his laughter from above. He knelt down beside you, rubbing your back softly. "If it makes it you feel any better, I think I have a crush on you too."

While it made your heart jump in your chest, you were still upset. "You're just saying that so I don't kill my sister," you frowned, distracting yourself by fidgeting the handle of the woven basket.

"Maybe," he grinned mischievously. 

"I, uh, noticed that the vegetables in this little basket of yours has the same ingredients we used last night," he told you, gesturing to the basket in your hands.

"Yeah, I was gonna wash them and send them to you," you told him, eyes roving over the colorful vegetables in the basket.

He snickered, "Wow, you really weren't kidding when you said you were gonna reimburse me," His hand was still roving in soft circles on your denim-clad back.

"I was gonna do it after the clothes finished drying," you gestured towards the clothing line that was on the opposite side of the large roof. Clipped to the rope were his sweatshirt, sweatpants, and your silver sequin dress.

Hoseok's eyes widened upon spotting the clothes. "Oh, damn," he murmured. "Um, well you can keep them if you want. They look better on you anyway," he smiled down at you, the wind making his hair flutter against his forehead. You stared at him in amazement, his smooth words clenching your heart. 

"I wasn't kidding when I said I'd really like to see you again, by the way," he went back to the subject at hand, chuckling nervously and averting his gaze. 

"I'd like that too," you smiled up at him.

"Oh, thank god," he murmured quietly, looking back at you, his face beaming with joy. He stood up, extending his hand out to you for the taking. He pulled you up and smiled at you, his bubbly cheeks shining from the bright sun. 

"Yah!"

The both of you looked to the entrance of the roof, spotting an angry looking Hwasa.

"Clean up the kitchen, dummy. Those cupcakes are everywhere," she told you with an infuriated tone, hands on her hips, and her foot tapping on the ground.

"You be quiet, you lost your scolding privileges when you told Hoseok that I liked him," you narrowed your eyes at her, letting go of Hoseok's hand to point an accusing finger at your sister.

She rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "Wha– well, someone had to say it!" she argued.

"Um, no they didn't!" you bit back.

"Clean up your cupcakes or I'm telling dad," Hwasa concluded, turning on her heel and retreating back into the building. You gasped, upset that you didn't have a chance to voice your distaste for her use of the parent card. 

You looked back to Hoseok who had an amused look on his face. "Sorry about that," you apologized to him, looking down at your feet.

"Don't worry about it, I've got an older sister too so I know how it feels... She clowns me whenever she gets the chance," he confessed to you, making you laugh in the process.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he looked to you with an optimistic look in his eyes. You saw that his fingers by his side were reaching out to you. You smiled to yourself, taking his hand in yours.

"Yeah," you grinned at him, pulling him to the entrance of the building.

His grip on your hand tightened, stepping forward to be by your side. "What does the chef recommend?" he chuckled.

"Hmm, coffee with a side of foolishness," you suggested, doubling over with laughter.

"And maybe some hand-holding for dessert?" he raised his eyebrows at you, looking hopeful as ever.

You hummed thoughtfully, "That can be the main course. For dessert, maybe you can teach me how to dance?"

Hoseok was smiling ear to ear, swinging your hand in tandem with his. "It's a deal."

Fin.

[chaotic-neutral-toga]

i’ve spent the entire time since my last post on this and holy fuck i want to fall into a coma

um okay i just thought up a zodiac based story plot thing and uyvbuhyb

okay so there’s this god-like thing but not exactly gods, i guess the “souls” of concepts, maybe?? so like those ones are infinite, not really but like they are, it’s confusing on purpose, but the zodiac are one of a kind each, Thing is they’re kinda destructive. Some do it because they can/want to, some do it because they don’t understand what’s wrong with it (they weren’t really ‘disciplined” or “taught”, so morality is kinda lost on them), and some are more kind, but still dangerous. In classic story fashion, they get sent down to the human world to become accustomed to morals, ethics, and just having a more grounded life. anyway characters

Pisces is autistic (yes im projecting a little) and destruction was the her way of stimming (other than snuggling in a hug with someone). When she gets to Earth, she does things that are “weird” to humans, since out of all of the zodiacs, she has the hardest time grasping the concept of the human world besides stuff she already knew(water and other stuff her sign rules). She’s fairly kind and compassionate, but has no tolerance for liars or anyone that gets on her bad side, which is a side even Aries sweats over. She likes puns (once they’re explained to her), and never understands innuendos or dirty jokes unless they’re really obvious. [Colors for her design: Mauve, Lilac, Violet, Sea Green. Closest Relationships: Virgo and Taurus. Human Name: Clementine.] Panromantic Demisexual

Aries is a bit reckless/destructive, to the point of idiotic sometimes, but he really does have the best intentions with most things he does. You can’t really blame someone for not knowing what they shouldn't do when they were never taught they had limits or boundaries that could be pushed. He can be bossy at times, but it’s usually because he knows his fellow Zodiacs well, and he can tell when they need someone to tell them what to do before they end up arguing over different ideas. Fire is the element he rules over, therefore it was one of the few human concepts he knew, so he took a quick liking to smores; it’s a sweet thing made over fire, what’s not to love? When he’s not riled up over something, he’s just a really passionate and affectionate friend. He identifies as an Androgynous Trigender, sometimes feeling like a boy, sometimes a girl, and sometimes agender, while preferring to use he/him pronouns. [Colors for his design: Red why the fuck does he only get 1 color wtf is this inequality. Closest Relationships: Libra and Leo. Human Name: Everett.] Aromantic Asexual(will kiss the homies uwu)

Taurus is pretty calm, but they can and will destroy you(verbally). They speak their mind and try their best to be honest, even if the truth is painful or undesirable. When dealing with problems, he keeps a straight face(facade or not), but lets his emotions out when it’s over (aka pouting as Cancer give them calming head pats). Because they’re one of the only ones who took to cooking (and one of the quickest to become relatively easily-adjusted to Earth), at times, they tend to be in a sort of parental role when interacting with the others. They can get frustrated with too much stress (aka more calming head pats), but they can usually work through it well enough. When it comes to love, he becomes flustered surprisingly easy, though this is technically hypothetical, as they haven’t encountered any romantic situations yet. Upon coming to Earth, Taurus discovered he’s allergic to reptiles, especially snakes, which makes his friendship with Scorpio, who will not give up his precious boop noodle, a bit rocky. He uses he/they pronouns. [Colors for his design: Green, Pink. Closest Relationships: Scorpio and Cancer. Human Name: Beau, pronounced Bo.] Gay

Gemini was probably the most optimistic of the bunch when they were first sent to Earth; she isn’t reckless, but she does live for the thrill. She has fun watching drama as long as it’s just harmless bickering, and she’ll stop any serious fights. She's a bit slow at reading the air sometimes, which is one of the few things that make her feel insecure. Even if she comes off as prideful or uncaring, she truly does treasure all her friends, and would move mountains for them. She is an ADHD Lesbian, so she has the awful pun of GA(Y)DHD. [Colors for her design: Light-Green, Yellow. Closest Relationships: Sagittarius and Aquarius. Human Name: Mikaela.] Lesbian

Virgo has a somewhat obvious crush on Pisces- not everyone knows, but it’s not rocket science for the observant ones- and Pisces thinks he’s just being a really great friend.(Virgo: I am stoic and distant and won’t open my heart to anyone. Pisces: Hi! Virgo: FUCK-). It’s easy for him to stress or obsess over something, and not give himself any room for imperfection. He’s one of the less outwardly destructive zodiacs, but internally, he tries to do too much and puts too much pressure on himself, which is never a good thing to do. Sometimes due to stress, he’ll isolate himself for a bit, but he gets very touch-starved very easily.. which makes it even more confusing how the snugly Pisces doesn't notice his feelings. [Colors for his design: Grey, Beige, Pale-Yellow. Closest Relationships: Pisces and Cancer. Human Name: Ezra.] get em boys, we found a Hetero

Libra is a quiet one, usually collecting information from afar before interjecting. He likes being helpful since he’s aware that he sometimes overthinks interaction. Asking him questions can be confusing, as he usually answers with simple “yes”’s and “no”’s. He enjoys reading fairytales; no real reason, he just likes them. He has Sensory Processing Disorder, which simultaneously makes him the dad and the baby of the group. [Colors for his design: Pink, Green. Closest Relationships: Aries and Sagittarius. Human Name: Libra, which is luckily an actual greek name.] Bi

Leo is a rowdy girl to say the least. She’s loves just horsing around with her friends, usually in the manner of play-fighting and tackle hugs. If you didn’t guess, she’s one of the more destructive Zodiacs, even on Earth. She denies ever doing things when confronted, though it doesn’t work most of the time (”Whaaat, I didn’t break that vase, that was Aries, right bro?” “Hey, don’t pin this on me!” “BRO-”). She is extremely loyal to the people she cares for, which could cross into naivety if she chose the wrong person as her friend. While she definitely isn't the motherly type, if one of her friends really needs to be comforted, she’ll sit them on her lap and stroke their head(she stronk owo). Though normally upbeat, she becomes somber in grim-looking situations, to the point of pessimistic. [Colors for her design: Gold, Yellow, Orange. Closest Relationships: Aquarius and Gemini. Human Name: Amaterasu.] Demiromantic Asexual

Scorpio has a pet boop noodle(baby ball python) that he almost stole before Taurus payed for it, which is when they discovered Taurus is allergic. They’re an overall cold and distant person, but they’re not completely shut-off; they just have a hard time warming up to people. Because of this, he holds grudges for a long time when his carefully-placed trust is betrayed. He seems to sometimes just appear and disappear during discussions with anyone noticing until he suddenly speaks up or they want to talk to him(spoiler alert: he’s just quiet). He’s very cute and peaceful when sleeping. [Colors for his design: Scarlet, Red, Rust. Closest Relationships: Taurus and Cancer. Human Name: Phoenix.] Arospike Aceflux

Cancer is very much a big sister to most, if not all, the Zodiacs. She has a caring air about her and can adjust to suit the boundaries of her friends. She herself is quite sensitive- though no one’s ever seen her like that- and she never wants her friends to feel that way. Besides that, she takes great interest in human pleasantries, such as sweet food, cameras, and lullabies. While she prefers to be the mediator during fights, if someone, say, insulted her friend and wouldn’t back off, she would lash back with a stone cold fury; the shock value alone gives her an advantage in those situations. [Colors for her design: White again with only one color wtf im adding my own, Pale-Orange, Various Yellows. Closest Relationships: Capricorn and Taurus. Human Name: June.] Questioning Asexual

Sagittarius is one of those aggressively positive people, saying what they want with no filter. They don’t take any shit from anyone, no matter who they are. She’s very free-spirited, but she’s not unguided; she knows what she wants and when she wants it. She’s never really hurt by anything, brushing and laughing things off almost immediately. She can get quite impatient, to the point of childishly whining. I’d bet 50 bucks that she was the first Zodiac to “discover” alcohol. [Colors for her design: Blue, Deep Purples, Browns. Closest Relationships: Gemini and Aries. Human Name: Nova.] Butch Grey-Aromantic Homosexual/Femmesexual

Aquarius is an analytical and selfless individual. They approach solutions to situations practically and objectively, even if their heart tells them otherwise. They keep their emotions bottled up most of the time, and if they’re doing something, there’s a high chance they’re doing it for someone else. Before, that was okay, since it was just the Zodiacs; but on Earth, it makes her a bit of a doormat. She’s one of the more morally-misguided Zodiacs, and she can’t really identify when something is criminal. She has a hard time remembering that she can’t say things like “human pleasantries” or call people insignificant compared to herself. They like being alone a lot, but they’re not antisocial. [Colors for her design: Light-Blue, Silver. Closest Relationships: Leo and Sagittarius. Human Name: Aqua no she did not try.] Aromantic Asexual(will not kiss the homies u~u)

Capricorn is pretty much “i’m surrounded by idiots”, but they’re his idiots and he knows he loves them. He doesn't look anything special, but he can and will throw you across the room if you fuck with him or his idiots, especially when he’s tired. He is peak sarcastic bitch and has pretty solid bullshit detector. If one of the Zodiacs is asleep where they shouldn’t be or they’re just leaving somewhere, he usually hoists them over his shoulder. He’s generally reserved but the Hug Pile™, or really extreme amounts of platonic affection in general, make him really soft; half because he’s surprised that they honestly care for him that much. [Colors for his design: Brown, Black, Grey, Yellow, Yellow-Orange. Closest Relationships: Taurus and Cancer. Human Name: Kai.] Aromantic Asexual(will be kissed by the homies owo)

holy fukcing shit is that it. am i finally fucking done. oh sweet jesus im crying this took me so fucking long

sorry if anyone was worried about me, i’m fine. Art, drabbles, and headcanons for this are allowed, but please link this post and/or tag me(or just send it in asks). i’ll try to be productive on this, tho itll probably be in the form of mini scenarios and incorrect quotes.

Here are the songs that kept me from kms while i made this: Lost One’s Weeping by Neru, Namine Ritsu-Error by kyaami, Yukune Ruko-I Don’t Wanna Know by Narcissus, Nakakapagpabagabag by Dasu, Madness of Duke Venomania Eng Sub by IkuSuperbia, v flower-Close to You by kyaami, My Nocturnal Serenade by YOHIO, Len’s Growl-Ghost Rule by Teto Chan!, Fukase English-Never Gonna Give You Up, Fukase English-Your Reality.

pls feed me validation on this i tried so hard my brain hurts

[princessanneftw]

Inside Princess Anne's lifelong love affair with horses

As the Princess Royal approaches her 70th birthday, those who know her recount the most enduring relationship of her life

By Eleanore Kelly for the Telegraph

The Princess Royal has spent a lifetime with horses. Like her siblings, she started riding at the age of three. But what makes her remarkable is the success she achieved as a competitor. Aged 21 she was crowned European Eventing Champion at Burghley. She was riding Doublet, a horse bred by the Queen, for polo, and gifted to the Princess.

At the 1975 European Eventing Championships, she finished second on Goodwill, another horse owned by the Queen and her mount at the Montreal Olympics in 1976, where she became the first member of the British royal family to compete at an Olympic Games. She rode winners in horse racing too, notably in the Grand Military Steeplechase at Sandown over jumps, and the Diamond Stakes on the flat at Ascot. No wonder she won BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year award in 1971 - the first ever event rider to carry off the trophy.

There were always ponies around during her childhood. Both her parents rode regularly, as did her older brother, Prince Charles, who developed a keen interest in polo and was considered a gifted player.

In those days polo was a men-only game, so not something his sister would have pursued, but she was a member of the Pony Club where she would have tried most equestrian disciplines with other young enthusiasts. Perhaps the attraction to eventing was the camaraderie that is always synonymous with a risk sport; horses are no respecter of titles.

When she became more serious about eventing, her parents arranged for training with Alison Oliver, wife of international show jumper Alan Oliver, who was based near Windsor. She is widely credited for propelling the Princess on the road to international equestrian stardom.

Lucinda Green, one of Princess Anne’s eventing peers, describes her as the pin-up of their era. Lucinda was a fellow team member at the Montreal Olympics and remembers the Princess having a crashing fall halfway around the cross-country course and suffering concussion. She remounted and finished the course but to this day cannot remember the rest of the jumps.

“She was extremely brave and good enough to get on the British team on two very different horses. Goodwill, her horse in Montreal, was not easy. He was big and had no brakes - I definitely wouldn’t have ridden him,” says Green.

With animals so often comes heartbreak, which even Princesses cannot escape. Her partnership with Doublet, a diminutive chestnut with the heart of a lion, ended in tragedy. The pair were destined for the Munich Olympics when the horse who had defined her career shattered a hind leg in an accident at Windsor and had to be put down.

At a time where security at sports events was minimal, The Princess was hounded by the media. “I always admired the way she coped with the press. That added the most unbelievable pressure on top of trying to do her sporting best. Tough for her but she put our sport on the map and kept it in the spotlight,” observes Green.

In 1985, she was persuaded to ride in a charity horse race at Epsom (home of the Derby). By this stage she’d hung up her eventing boots and had two young children. Yet she was always game for the challenge, if it involved horses.

Horse racing requires a very different technique from eventing, so she approached trainer David Nicholson for help. Known as “The Duke” because of his imposing personality, he suggested she come to his Cotswold yard, little expecting she would turn up almost every day for several years to ride out.

His wife Dinah became familiar with the Princess, as she would join them in the kitchen for breakfast after exercising the horses. “She was so dedicated and determined, driving 40 minutes every morning and arriving at 7.15am on the dot, so she could tack up her horse before riding out on the gallops. Then she would have breakfast with us and sometimes there would be a jockey - Richard Dunwoody or Peter Scudamore. The conversation would mostly be about horses. After breakfast, she would set off for a busy day of royal duties.”

Even if she had a royal engagement in London that went on late into the night, she would still get up after a few hours sleep to drive to the yard in Stow-on-the Wold. Acquaintances say her security detail looked permanently exhausted from keeping up with her.

After the charity race, in which she finished a respectable fourth, she asked Nicholson if she could continue riding out at his yard. It seemed the attraction was as much about the camaraderie of yard life as it was the actual race riding. “She became very fond of the people in racing and was always very natural with the stable lads, who liked her.”

There was a horse she was very fond of too, called Cnoc Na Cuille. He was a big winner for her in her career as a jump jockey (including the Grand Military) but soon after finishing third at Warwick, he dropped dead, probably from a heart attack.

“The Princess was not one for showing emotion but she was clearly very upset about it,” says Dinah. Soon after this she gave up race riding, although she has bred a few race horses herself at her home, Gatcombe Park in Gloucestershire.

For 37 years, thanks to the Princess, Gatcombe has hosted eventing competitions, including the prestigious Festival of Eventing. The cross-country course is designed by her former husband Captain Mark Phillips, an Olympic medallist and four-time Badminton winner (once the golden boy of British eventing), and the Director is their son Peter Phillips.

Princess Anne’s daughter, Zara Tindall, a former European and World Champion event rider and silver medalist in the London 2012 Olympics, regularly competes there and the Princess hands out the prizes.

Tindall has even more eventing accolades than her mother and, like her, she was voted BBC Sports Personality of the Year (in 2006). Her mother has always been hugely supportive of her children’s interest in horses. Every Christmas, the Princess would drive the children’s ponies up to Balmoral* (think they mean Sandringham?) herself in a horsebox so they could all ride.

There is also a strong equine theme to the Princess Royal’s charity work. She’s President of World Horse Welfare and the Riding for the Disabled Association (RDA) as well as Patron of the Pony Club and the Injured Jockeys Fund (IJF). She was President of the International Federation of Equestrian Sports (FEI) from 1986 to 1994, a role she took over from her father, Prince Philip.

Roly Owers, CEO of World Horse Welfare, describes the Princess as having a deep love of horses, devoting a huge amount of time to all aspects of horse welfare. Former champion jockey John Francombe describes her as the best after-dinner speaker he has ever heard, with a great sense of humour, persuading well-oiled guests to open their wallets for charity and even persuading them to adopt horses themselves.

Rehoming unwanted horses is a large part of the World Horse Welfare’s work and the Princess is a rehomer herself. “On one of her visits to our rescue centres, she met a Welsh Cob called Annie and asked if she could have her. I believe she still rides her today.”

“She has always had a clear opinion but understands horses better than anyone,” says Owers. That once got her into trouble, at the 2013 World Horse Welfare conference when one of the topics was the European Horse Meat scandal. “She made a comment about the value of horses that was translated as ‘Princess Anne eats horse meat’ by certain journalists.”

What the Princess had actually said was: "Should we be considering a real market for horsemeat and would that reduce the number of welfare cases, if there was a real value in the horsemeat sector? I chuck that out for what it's worth because I think it needs a debate."

As Owers remembers, “it was unfortunately the first time we filmed the conference and broadcast it live, so you can imagine it created 48 hours of hysteria.” Though whether the Princess actually sits down to pony steak for Sunday lunch is not known.

Caroline Ward of the RDA remarks on her extraordinary empathy. “She understands the challenges our participants face and what they get out of the experience of riding horses. She will talk to them about their ponies and what it means to them to spend time with horses.

“These riders, many of whom find communication and mobility so difficult, will always open up to her. They are bound by this common interest and love of horses. She will also chat to the volunteers, to make them feel all the more special.”

Ward recalls the time Princess Anne helped a rider load her difficult horse into the horse box. “She came to our RDA National Championships at Hartpury College. She saw this struggle and despite not being dressed to get stuck in, she clearly couldn’t walk by without offering assistance. Well, this horse took one look at her and realised this was someone who meant business, and walked straight into the horsebox.”

Ex-jockey and racing journalist Brough Scott has known the Princess for many years through sport and her support of the IJF. “At charity events, rather than entertaining the fat cats, she is happiest talking to the ex-jockeys, many of whom are in a wheelchair. One really likes her for that, even though she is not trying to be liked.”

To be a successful rider, you have to build a relationship of trust and mutual understanding with your horse. That means controlling your fear and emotions. Eventing, a combination of the three disciplines of dressage, cross-country and show jumping, is perhaps the truest test of all-round horsemanship, demanding both accuracy and courage. It is only for the bravest of the brave, says Scott.

“Princess Anne wasn’t simply a Royal who rode, she was an athlete who achieved great things in her eventing career and rode courses that would have terrified most people. That must have given her self-confidence and fulfillment.”

In her public duties too, the Princess Royal has given her all, incidentally personifying the characteristics necessary for a fine horsewoman: discipline, dedication and courage. Are they a matter of her breeding and upbringing, or do we have her love of horses to thank for that?

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 10- Year 1: May

(ao3 link)

“Professor?” Anakin tentatively pushed the door open, he’d been in Professor Palaptine’s office a handful of times this year, but it was still a little unsettling to see jars of eyes and toes dotted around the room.

“Anakin, my child,” Palaptine smiled turning from where he was browsing the spines of old texts in the corner of the room, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well,” Suddenly he wondered if this had been a good idea after all, but his professor was still smiling at him, waiting for an answer so Anakin just walked further into the room letting the door fall behind him, “I guess I wanted to say thanks, for saving me from Win- the kidnapper,” He figured it was always best to start with a heavy dose of flattery, “I bet you could have won,” Palpatine sat down behind his desk gingerly, likely he was still feeling a twinge or two of pain.

“I believe you’ve already thanked me, my boy,” He smiled and waved towards the ornate chair across from him. Anakin scrambled to do as he was asked and he was rewarded with a soft chuckle, “I appreciate such kind words, but you should never underestimate your adversaries,” He seemed to speak from experience, but it was hard for Anakin to imagine such a sweet professor ever having too many opponents, “Now, I believe you’ve really come for another map,” Anakin’s eyes widened and he leaned forwards on his chair.

“How did you know?” He gasped and then rather excitedly continued, “Do you have another?”

“I’m afraid not,”Anakin felt himself frown, perhaps he’d permanently lost the most important item he’d ever been given, besides his wand of course.

“Great, and I doubt the Headmaster’s keen on returning it,” Anakin grumbled.

“Never fear,” Palpatine just reached towards the drawer on his desk, “There’s no real loss, perhaps combining our efforts, we can make a new one,” Anakin leaned forward curiously as Palpatine spread out a piece of parchment on his desk. It was blank which was disappointing, but Palpatine just pulled his wand out and tapped gently in the center.

“If you know how to make them, why not make more,” Anakin looked up curiously, “You could sell them and make money,” Palpatine only smiled and shook his head.

“It’s dangerous for everyone to have such knowledge of the castle,” He explained, “Plus, nothing truly comes without cost, you must learn this,” And Palpatine tapped his wand to the side of his head pulling out a strand of silver, a memory or a thought perhaps and dropped it onto the page, it seemed to dissolve into the very paper and it formed shimmery silver lines for the castle walls.

“Woah!” Anakin picked it up and turned it every which way, “It’s an exact match, besides the color! But, where’s the people? We should be there,” He set the map back down and pointed at Palpatine’s office.

“As I said, my boy,” Palpatine just smoothed the map back out and smiled at the boy, “Nothing comes without a little sacrifice. I sacrificed a memory of walking through the castle halls,” Anakin frowned, he didn’t know he was asking his professor to give something like a memory up for him and then it dawned on him what likely Palpatine was insinuating.

“I have to give up a memory?” Anakin hesitated, “What if it’s something I want to remember?” It would likely have to be from his year at Hogwarts since the map was inherently part of the school, and despite the transgressions that befell him, he didn’t exactly want to forget anything.

“Correct, you’re a very bright boy,” Palpatine nodded towards the paper, “Don’t fret, it’s easiest to pick a simple memory, something you needn’t miss. Something unmemorable will do as long as it holds impressions of your fellow students and professors,” Anakin considered his options. His first thought was a Quidditch match, but he quite liked those and didn’t really want to forget about them, but one of his classes seemed too small.

“What about a dinner in the great hall,” Anakin asked and Palpatine nodded.

“That would be a wonderful choice Anakin,” He picked up his wand and Anakin did the same, “Just think about the memory you chose very hard and channel its energy towards the tip of your wand,” Anakin moved to copy Palpatine’s pose, “And say, memoria recepta!”

“Memoria Recepta!” Anakin called, slowly he drew his wand away from his head, a silver string following his movement. It was an odd feeling to remove a memory, it reminded him of peeling the glue off his fingers in school only to feel such a thing in the mind was entirely different. He admired it in the air, following his wand like a magnet, it was beautiful as he felt a person's memories should be.

Finally, he let it fall from the tip of his wand. It hit the parchment and feathered out. As the silver thought dissolved impressions of people began to pop up around the map. He looked and sure enough he and Palpatine had appeared in the office just as they should.

“Excellent, my child!” Palpatine praised him, he tapped his wand to the map, “Mischief Managed,” It faded back just as the original had, “Now see to it that you don’t lose it again, I may have plenty of memories to spare at my age, but you don’t have quite as many,” Anakin laughed gleefully, taking the parchment from Palpatine’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t worry I’d really rather not lose this again!”

***

Cody burst through the Great Hall doors with the glowing enthusiasm that only held one true reasoning. Usually, his two best friends were quick on the uptake to his excitement, but when he shoved himself between Breha and Bail to position himself across from them, neither seemed to even notice.

“Good morning, Cody.” Despite her greeting, Satine had the disposition that it was anything but good. 

Deciding to lean towards the air of cheerfulness, Cody beamed, “That, it is, Satine. That it is.”

“What’s got you so peppy?” Kenobi yawned, though regardless of the bags under his eyes and the slouch in his posture, Cody could tell he was at least trying to take the bait.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He pointed at the jersey he donned every post-Quidditch Sunday. 

Both sets of blue eyes scrutinized him and then the jersey a couple of times before Satine’s eyes widened suddenly and Kenobi dropped his fork, “Oh no.”

Now, it was Cody’s turn to be shocked, “Don’t tell me you missed it?”

Seriously, leave it to him to find the two people in all of Hogwarts that didn’t care much for Quidditch. Had he turned to any other student in the castle, he’d receive the shared hype that he so passionately felt.

“We were up studying all night!” Kenobi hastily explained, “Truthfully, I don’t even think we left the library until Qui-Gon quite literally sought us out and sent us to bed.”

“We’ve really gotten behind with the pending investigations and increased patrols.” She added, “I’m not even sure how we missed it.”

“Me neither.” Kenobi sagged a bit and fixed him with a sullen stare, “I’m sorry, mate.”

“I feel awful.” Satine rubbed her tired eyes and then frowned, “Some friends we are.”

Cody frowned and tilted his head at the two before it dawned on him and he barked out a laugh, “You know it was Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, right?”

Just as they had before, the two prefects had to double-take for a second; this time taking in the vibrancy of the entire great hall before slouching forward in shared relief.

“Oh, thank God.” Satine breathed and then flared at Cody, “Why, pray tell, didn’t you start with that? I thought we missed a match that matter-“

She winced as she finally caught Breha and Bail’s sharp stares.

“Mattered to Gryffindor.” She quickly amended and avoided their gazes as she turned back to Cody, “Who won?

“First of all, all Quidditch matters to Gryffindor. Because had Slytherin not pulled back in a surprise upset, they’d be a laughing stock.”

Breha, who was easily Hufflepuff’s one and only star player, grunted something under her breath about cheating Slytherin and Cody gave her a sympathetic look.

“Hey, don’t think I missed that killer head block you made. Not sure how that didn’t knock your lights out completely, but if not for you it would have been a bloodbath.”

That seemed to placate the Hufflepuff even if only slightly and she played with her French toast on her plate, “Honestly, knowing Ventress, that was probably her intent.”

“Slytherin is playing meaner than usual this year.” Kenobi agreed and Satine seemed to stiffen at that.

“Which will make their defeat for the cup all the sweeter.” Cody clenched his fist triumphantly, “Now that we’ve got Anakin back, there’s no stopping us against you nerds.”

Kenobi nodded,”I’m sure Anakin will appreciate the distraction from recent events.”

“And you two will too!” He encouraged and stuffed some eggs into his mouth, “Which is why I’m going to break down the entire match for you. Play by play.”

“I think I’ll sit this one out.” Breha said as she pushed to her feet, “As much as I’d love to relive such an upset, I have patrol. There’s always next year, I suppose.”

Bail smiled and nodded at them before dutifully following his girlfriend.

“It’s amazing we have other friends.” Satine commented with a smirk, “We are quite insufferable.”

Cody shrugged, “If they can’t take the heat, they better stay out of the kitchen. Anyway, let’s first start with how lop-sided Hufflepuff’s lineup is…”

***

The Ravenclaw table was louder than usual and Satine tried to turn away from them so she could continue reading out of the massive tome she’d dragged down from the library. So much of the year was being spent on misadventures and uncovering crime and she felt that if she wasted even a single moment outside of school work or prefect business, she was going to fall behind in her studies. O.W.L.s were just a month away and she was determined to pass with the highest grades possible. She may not be competitive on a level that Cody was, but there was always something so satisfying about seeing how she measured up at the end of the year.

“Satine!” Aayla Secura sat down with a thump in Ben’s usual spot, which did give her enough of an excuse to let her eyes stray from the text if only for a moment, “Come on, it’s a Quidditch day! You can study after the game,” She gave a half hearted attempt to tug the book away from her, but it was weighty enough that it hardly budged.

“Oh right,” Satine gazed around the room, noticing the Ravenclaw team wearing their Quidditch jumpers discussing tactics in whispers and the Gryffindor team egging on the Fett twins as they tried to see how many pieces of bacon they could fit in their mouths at once.

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Kenobi’s been glum all week,” She joked as she pointed to where he stuck out like a sore thumb, one spec of blue in the sea of Gryffindor red. Aayla frowned, “He better be over there gathering intel and not spilling our secrets.”

“I really doubt he’s over there for either,” Stass squeezed in between Aayla and Satine. She scrunched her nose up at the book in front of her, “What even is this? Is this written in Latin?”

“No,” Satine rolled her eyes, “It’s just old,” She turned to look at Ben, he was sitting a few seats away from Anakin, likely not trying to crowd him, but he definitely looked concerned. She wanted to chalk it up to the fact that Anakin had only recently been let out of counseling, but as if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked at her with a sort of concerned, questioning look.

“Oooh! He caught you staring!” Aayla cackled.

“He’s coming over,” Stass stood, pulling Aayla up with her, “Guess we’ll leave you two, alone.”

“No need for your dramatics,” Satine rolled her eyes and didn’t mention that she often felt like they were alone when they locked eyes.

Satine stood and met him halfway between the house tables, before turning and walking with him out of the great hall. If something was bothering him this severely, she’d rather like to speak to him without the audience of the entire student body. Though in the hallway was a similarly concerned looking Qui-Gon Jinn and Satine pulled gently on Ben’s arm to slow him to a stop.

“I’m missing something here, what is it?” She looked between the two of them.

“Well, Anakin could be in danger,” Ben pointed out.

“Is in constant danger,” Qui-Gon amended.

“You don’t think the suspect would be brave enough to try something at the match, do you?” Satine caught on quickly, “They’d be outed rather quickly.”

“He likely didn’t think that his kidnapping plot would be uncovered,” Ben countered, “I’m worried he’ll be desperate enough to try.”

“So what do you need me to do?” Satine asked, “I assume Qui-Gon will be watching Professor Windu from close quarters?” Qui-Gon nodded, but didn’t get a chance to speak on the matter.

“If you helped Qui-Gon keep an eye on things I’d really appreciate it,” Ben looked at her with grateful eyes and she had to nod to break through the trance they put her under.

“Of course, as long as you pay enough attention to not fall out of the sky again,” She chastised and he looked offended, but Qui-Gon laughed.

“Well my students,” He pushed them gently moving their little group outside, “I suppose Satine and I should go select our good vantage points.”

***

Obi-Wan was already pushing his way past his teammates the moment he saw Anakin peer into their locker room with nervous eyes. Even if he hadn’t almost expected something like this, he was getting used to spotting Anakin’s messy hair from halfway across the school.

“We’re still having a meeting here!” Was called after him, but frankly he couldn’t bring himself to care about such trivial matters like Quidditch. If Cody was going to steamroll them, then it would happen, as it had many times before.

“Anakin, what is it?” He whispered frantically the moment he was out from under the soundproof charm, “Did something happen?”

“You don’t have to treat me like a child!” Anakin complained, though it was hard not to when Anakin was yet to be close to any sort of growth spurt, “I just. What happens if he tries to attack me? He could enchant my broom like Krell did to you, or get a bludger to follow me around, or do that chain magic and drag me off my broom-” Obi-Wan put both his hands up.

“Anakin, calm down,” Though it was hypocritical given how Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped having the same concerns the whole morning, “We’ve got Satine and Qui-Gon in the stands keeping an eye out, if Windu so much as moves Qui-Gon will be there. As for the field, I’ll be up there and if I see something go wrong… well, you’re more important to me than the match, alright?” Anakin nodded, but still didn’t look very convinced, still Obi-Wan started to walk him back to the Gryffindor locker room.

“I don’t even want to play,” It was said so quietly Obi-Wan was sure it wasn’t meant for him to hear.

“If you’re really that concerned, I can talk to Cody,” Obi-Wan suggested, but Anakin shook his head. He wasn’t sure then what else he could do to fix the problem. Anakin just brushed through the entrance to the Gryffindor locker room without another word. Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, before sticking his own head inside.

It was practically the same as the Ravenclaw team’s except rather obviously the color. Cody was giving more of a pep talk than a tactics meeting, but stopped near instantly when he realized he was being watched.

“Oi! Coming to spy Kenobi?” Cody spun on him faster than he’d expected, but rather than indulging his friend’s competitive spirit he fixed Cody with his firmest glare.

“A word, Captain Quidditch?” He swept a hand towards the field and Cody eyed him with a rather ridiculous amount of scrutiny before nodding to Caleb Dume to take over, “Was that show really necessary?” Obi-Wan complained as they walked a little ways away for some better privacy.

“Had to let my team know I’m not trying to swap secrets with the enemy,” Cody pointed out with a grin, “Which I’m not if that’s what you’re here for,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Cody, I’ve been one of your best friends since first year, they’re aware,” He reminded him, “I’m here about Anakin,” Cody’s easy smile fell into a troubled frown.

“Is everything ok?” He asked and Obi-Wan gave a hesitant shrug.

“He’s afraid somethings going to happen at the match,” He explained, “I’ve got Qui-Gon and Satine planted in the stands-”

“So you think somethings going to happen?” Cody looked more concerned at the thought.

“I’d rather be prepared,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I’m going to try to keep an eye on Anakin from my end of the field. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate as captain-”

“I’ll have none of that,” Cody interrupted, “A good captain- no, a good teammate looks out for his mates. I’ll keep an eye out,” Though Obi-Wan wanted to thank him for it, he knew Cody wasn’t much for such things.

“Go easy on him,” He said instead, before moving to head back towards the Ravenclaw section, “And good luck.”

“You’re the one who’ll need the luck, Kenobi!”

***

Anakin was flinching at everything. Had he not been high up in the air it would have been less of a problem, but at this rate he was going to be the cause of his own fall rather than anything Windu might try. He’d missed nearly every shot he’d taken and he half expected that Cody would have taken him out of the game already, but his captain only glanced at him occasionally and focused on calling things out to his fellow chasers.

He was determined at the very least to make some sort of redeeming shot, though he was sure Cody wouldn’t kick him off the team for this, even if just as a favor to Obi-Wan. He scanned the field and looked for an opening. The chasers were fighting for the Quaffle in the middle of the field, which meant targeting his mentor was out of the question, and he really couldn’t get a clear shot on the enemy team. Ravenclaw’s seeker was hovering a little too close to the Gryffindor hoops for Anakin’s liking. In fact, he seemed to be drifting to the left steadily. Anakin frowned, he wasn’t an expert on seekers, but it seemed like a weird position for them to be in. If they weren’t very lucky they could even get pelted with the quaffle or accidentally cause a foul.

Then he saw the glimmer of gold, about 2 feet away from the Ravenclaw seeker and Anakin realized what was going on. Frantically, he turned to look for a bludger, but panicked as one was already pelting straight towards him. He hit it hard, eyes closed, and flinched at the sound of sudden cheering.

He slowly opened his eyes. Blue and Silver confetti was raining down on the field. The Ravenclaw seeker was holding up the golden snitch with pride and the rest of the Ravenclaws were cheering with a feriosity. Anakin felt guilt well up inside, he couldn’t even look at the rest of his team, just descended from the air like a bullet.

They may have lost, and it was a rather sour defeat, but Anakin was ready more than ever to catch Windu in the act. Even if only to allow himself to exist with a little more piece of mind.

***

Upon hearing of Anakin’s reasoning for being so afraid during their Quidditch match, Obi-Wan instantly knew where to take that information. His own fears dissolved as he entered Qui-Gon’s office without knocking- a clear indication that he was too focused to worry over decorum. This wasn’t lost on his favorite professor and mentor as he looked up to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze with equal parts concern and curiosity. 

“Obi-Wan, what do I extend the-”

“-Something must be done about Windu.”

Any calm disposition dropped from Qui-Gon instantly, “What happened?”

“Nothing. Yet.” Obi-Wan was sure to emphasize this with great intensity, “And seeing as I don’t want to allow another step of misfortune to bestow him and I don’t believe you do either, I think we must take matters in our own hands as clearly the Headmaster is not going to.” He said, raising his chin as he said it to deflect any possible argument, though none came.

“I see.” Qui-Gon leaned his chin on folded hands as he considered this, “I still cannot see Mace doing such a thing.”

“Clearly, it’s someone from within the castle.” Obi-Wan insisted, “A powerful wizard, at that. Who else could torture and maintain the Zillo Beast for all this time? Plus, we can round up all the evidence in the world and it still doesn’t stop the fact that for as long as we let this person go-”

“-You mistake my comment as a dispute. I, too, hold your belief that we can no longer ignore Anakin’s theory. After all, he is still the only person to spend extensive time with this mysterious foe.”

Obi-Wan released a sigh, feeling his shoulders relax from gripping onto tension he didn’t even realize had built up since his conversation with Anakin.

“I’m sorry, Qui-Gon.” He took a seat across from him, folding his robe beneath him, “It’s possible I am also still riled up from his kidnapping.”

“Perhaps you could also use counseling.” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully.

Obi-Wan shook his head adamantly, “Let’s please focus on Anakin, for now. He’s the one who endured such a traumatic experience. I’d just really like to be proactive in preventing the next one.”

“I would too.” Qui-Gon admitted and then smiled, “But we all need a little help every now and then.”

“Which is why I came to you.” Obi-Wan asserted. “I could never stop an evil wizard on my own.”

“You're stronger than you believe, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon smiled, but moved to stand, “However, I was not solely referring to you. I think we could benefit from having a second set of eyes, particularly a set with ample amounts of experience detecting dark magic.”

Obi-Wan had naturally (and wrongfully) assumed that Qui-Gon meant Headmaster Yoda. In spite of his small stature, the little green wizard was the only one amongst them to have fought a sith in his lifetime. However, they walked swiftly past the entrance to the headmaster’s office and onwards. He guessed it would be too simple to involve the most powerful wizard in the school. 

Then again, Yoda was quite close with Windu. Surely, Yoda couldn’t be involved. Right?

“What would he want with Anakin, anyway?” Obi-Wan asked finally. “He’s just a boy.”

When he received no answer- not even a spew of philosophical theories that he’d come accustomed to- he looked up and over at his mentor. His face was set in a focused frown and his eyes were staring straight ahead as though he intended on piercing whatever crossed him.

Whatever it was, Obi-Wan had already deduced it wasn’t good, but the thought still plagued him.

After all, Anakin had mentioned that his kidnapper drew blood from him. To what purpose could that fulfil?

His second suspicion had been Professor Dooku’s office, which of course, was where they ended up. Dooku was easily the second strongest wizard in the entire school- only second to Yoda, himself, and had spent many years as an Auror and then professor. Not to mention, as head of Ravenclaw house, it did seem pertinent that he at least be a little involved if they were to come up with a plan. 

His door was already cracked open and the traces of dim lighting echoed off the pale stone walls that lined the small corridor that would eventually lead into the main room. While Obi-Wan would never enter Dooku’s office without knocking, Qui-Gon held no such qualms of doing so and marched ahead without hesitance. 

Upon entering and reaching the end of the small corridor, they immediately noticed they were interrupting something. Specifically, an unpleasant meeting at that. Obi-Wan could have guessed this solely by the only other person in the room being Asajj Ventress, but there was also the clear displeasure that was written over every one of Dooku’s hardened features. 

“I strongly advise you to hesitate before making such a frivolous mistake again, Miss Ventress.” He said thickly, “Lest there be stricter consequences.”

“My sincerest apologies, Professor.”

Even more shocking, Ventress actually looked guilty at his words and sagged her shoulders a bit. This display of vulnerability did not lessen the discontent of his stare.

It was only then that Qui-Gon decided to knock. Though there was no door or frame to do so, which resulted in the borderline comedic display of Qui-Gon gently tapping his knuckles against a marble bust. 

“Qui-Gon! Obi-Wan!” If Dooku cared much for having his meeting interrupted, he didn’t give any indication of this. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He seemed to perk up at their intrusion rather than recoil. Perhaps it was Qui-Gon’s being there, because while he never felt disliked by Professor Dooku, he never imagined seeing him so pleasant at his arrival.

“Dooku!” Qui-Gon smiled jovially and took two long steps forward to lean over the desk and grasped his welcoming hand in a firm shake. “So sorry to barge in without notice.”

“Oh, posh.” Dooku waved his other hand dismissively and then side-eyed Ventress, “I was just finishing up.”

Ventress turned her head sharply to the side before taking that as her cue to leave, but on her way out, was sure to purposefully shove past Obi-Wan with enough force to send him to the side.

“So, that’s where Skywalker learned to take a hit.” She taunted before storming the rest of the way out of the office. 

“That’ll be 5 points from Slytherin for that display.” Dooku called after her with indifference before turning back to Qui-Gon, “So, how may I be of service?”

Qui-Gon paused by giving Obi-Wan a silent look to ask if he was alright and then sighed, “As always, I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Surely, we’ve had some good times.” Dooku jested dryly, “I reckon I’ve had a good laugh while reeling you in from your latest conspiracy theories.”

“And you may have to draw me back from another.” Qui-Gon winced, “Because I have strong enough reason to suspect that Mace might not be completely forward with his intentions these days.”

Dooku raised his eyebrows and stroked his snowy beard thoughtfully, “Is that so?”

“Anakin has firmly stated on multiple occasions that he believes his captor, the Zillo Beast imprisoner, is Mace Windu.” Qui-Gon kept his voice low, “And as much as I do not want to believe that a colleague and friend could be behind this, what other choice do we have when someone is clearly targeting the boy and we have been unable to protect him?”

Dooku flickered his dark eyes to Obi-Wan, considering him for the first time during their exchange, “And you share these thoughts, Obi-Wan?”

“I share the belief that it’s possible.” He said, trying not to sound stupid in front of his head of house. Despite knowing that any friend of Qui-Gon’s should be trustworthy, there was always something intimidating about Dooku. “And that Anakin deserves to have his fears investigated properly.”

“I agree.” Dooku said, “Perhaps keeping a firmer eye on Windu could be useful. It’s only a matter of time before a monster such as this feels the need to strike again. I’m sure he’s quite bitter that he failed the first few times.”

He then tightened his fingers in a fist, “Anakin, thankfully… Is a very slippery little boy.”

“And powerful.” Qui-Gon said with a nod, “Which is why my other beliefs still stand.”

“In due time, Qui-Gon Jinn.” Dooku sighed, “For now, I believe it is wise that we construct a specific plan on when to perform this stakeout.”

“Every night, I’d think.” Obi-Wan interjected to his own surprise. “Otherwise, we’re not going to know when to catch him in the act.”

“Anakin should be there.” Qui-Gon said. 

“Involving the boy could be dangerous.” Dooku said.

“It’s already dangerous, Dooku.” Qui-Gon shook his head, “Besides, if you think he’s not going to go right ahead and do it anyway, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“I suppose you have a point there,” He said tightly. “Figuring out this attacker's motives with the boy would likely prove to be unpredictable.”

“It has to be the workings of the Sith.” Qui-Gon said quietly. “Who else would be so adept at working in the shadows? It’s the prophecy, I tell you.”

“What prophecy?” Obi-Wan asked eagerly. 

“You know I share your interest in the fixations of the future.” Dooku ignored him and stood to polish the long golden sword with a ruby hilt that hung beside the bookshelf in front of him, “But a true Sith would never act unless the opportunity presented itself. You would not be able to properly supervise Anakin should you want to draw him out.”

“I cannot risk that. He will be my primary responsibility,” Qui-Gon said with placating hands raised slightly. However, this gesture  didn’t seem to relax Dooku in the slightest. 

“Very well.” He practically forced out, “That is how it will be done then. I will observe the tunnels to ensure no one gets in. If there’s one sith temple beneath Hogwarts, surely there are other hidden nooks and crannies.”

“I appreciate your help, Dooku.” Qui-Gon said kindly, “I know we don’t always agree, but your guidance and insight has always been valuable to me.”

“You’re a good man, Qui-Gon.” Dooku said firmly, “Our main priority is to keep our children safe.”

“And what of me?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You have enough to worry about.” Qui-Gon said.

“OWL’s are approaching, young man.” Dooku added.

“I am fully capable of doing both.” He said indignantly.

“Capable, perhaps, but also unnecessary.” Qui-Gon said sternly, “You will not be tagging along when you have enough duties to tend to. In fact, you should be heading to bed now, last I checked.”

He looked between the two of them like he was begging between two parents, but then remembered he wouldn’t even be doing that with his own parents. Also, while the wisest, both wizards were increasingly more stubborn with age.

“Fine. I won’t tag along.”

But he would possibly start his own investigation.  

***

Anakin was never really that fond of waiting games. He considered himself much more of a man of action. However, he knew that to catch Mace Windu in the act, waiting around would be the only way. He hadn’t revealed himself at the Quidditch match and although Anakin was happy to have made it out alive, he knew this meant that Windu was trying to hide again. This time though, he had real back up. He and Qui-Gon had spent plenty of time in the halls after hours, trying to catch him sneaking around. Professor Dooku was helping out too, he took watch over the tunnels very seriously, in fact, Anakin hadn’t seen him around for a few nights. Rex, while discouraged from tagging along, had his back when it came to charms classes, glaring rather purposely at Windu every time he looked over to them. Still, the night was quiet and Anakin was bored.

“How long is this going to take?” He complained under his breath, and though he hadn’t been expecting Qui-Gon to answer the professor looked over at him in amusement.

“We’ve barely been at it three days, Anakin,” He reminded him, “Mace tends to keep to himself, so it’s not surprising we haven’t seen him leave his office yet. In due time, evil will be revealed,” Whether that was a one off comment or another casually quoted prophecy, Anakin just shrugged.

“Obi-Wan said you wouldn’t let him come,” He asked, not wanting to lapse back into silence.

“He’s in his fifth year,” Qui-Gon pointed out, “He needs to focus on his O.W.L.s.”

“In case you forgot, Obi-Wan’s pretty much the smartest guy in the school,” Anakin grumbled, “I’m pretty sure he could get straight O’s in his sleep,” Qui-Gon smiled rather fondly at the statement.

“Maybe so, but he still needs some time to study,” Anakin didn’t quite agree, plus Obi-Wan had been involved in this investigation from the start. He wondered how long it would take before the prefect showed up of his own accord, but maybe he respected Qui-Gon too much to break the rule. He found his mentor hard to read.

Anakin was about to come up with another possible topic of conversation, when they heard the creaking of an opening door. Qui-Gon quickly put a finger to his lips and a hand on Anakin’s shoulder as a quiet request to stay put. Qui-Gon himself stood up and walked around the corner like he hadn’t been planted there for the past few hours.

“Mace! Lovely to see you this evening,” Though he couldn’t see the exchange from around the corner, Anakin could imagine it. No doubt Mace was unhappy to have been caught so quickly in whatever he’d been attempting to do. It did make Anakin think, how were they to truly catch him in the act if they couldn’t even subdue him fully in the forest. Still, this time at least they were at the school where surely they’d be able to find more wizards if needed.

“Qui-Gon, you’re out rather late this evening,” Mace spoke it as a question, though Anakin wasn’t sure Qui-Gon ever actually slept.

“I see Qui-Gon’s planning to talk his way through this investigation,” The deep tone from behind him made him jump, but as he turned around it was only Dooku looking as stony faced as ever.

“Well, Windu hardly ever comes out of his office,” Anakin pointed out after getting over his initial fear, “We need to make the most of what we can,” He had to resist the urge to peer around the corner, “Plus, if he can get close enough, he can tag him with a tracker,” Anakin showed Dooku the small sticky piece of parchment that Qui-Gon had whipped up for them.

“Perhaps,” Dooku answered simply, “I’ve only come to let him know the tunnels are secured for the evening, tell him when he gets back from fraternizing,” Dooku let a heavy hand sit on Anakin’s shoulders. Through his shirt he felt the cold of a ring and suddenly felt his body buzz with adrenaline. He looked over very slowly at the hand, there was a heavy looking ornate ring, one that looked eerily familiar.

“Where are you going?” Anakin managed to ask, “I thought you were supposed to monitor the tunnels.”

“Prior engagement,” Dooku answered stiffly, “It’s not the business of a first year,” But perhaps it was his business, because as Dooku removed his hand and walked back the way he came, Anakin realized that Mace Windu had never worn a ring, he wasn’t much one for such material things, but Dooku seemed to think much the opposite by his office alone.

Dooku had been at the Christmas party when he’d been poisoned and Dooku had known enough about the Zillo Beast to help stop it. Dooku had never shown any particular favoritism or lack thereof like Windu had, but he certainly had been at all the right places at all the right times. Still, it felt like it was quite a leap to take, especially since Qui-Gon had trusted him with their plans, or perhaps Dooku had tricked them into trusting him so he could continue to weasel his way out of their suspicions.

Anakin ran.

He pulled out his map, tapping it until he could track Dooku’s footsteps. He stayed back, not wanting to be caught prematurely, until Dooku entered his office. Anakin crept forward enough to listen and looked through the keyhole. Dooku reached into a silver ornate vase, grabbing a handful of dust and stepped into the fireplace. He tossed it down without a moment's pause and called for the Ministry of Magic.

Anakin practically fell into his office the moment the professor disappeared. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste, he only knew he needed to follow Dooku. If he was right about this, who knew what sorts of things he was out doing. Thinking faster than he normally would have, he grabbed some poor students' homework and flipped it over.

‘Followed Dooku, Ministry of Magic, he’s the bad guy!’

And he stuck the tracker Qui-Gon had given him to the corner of the page. He hoped it would be sufficient, but he didn’t have time to consider anything else. He grabbed a handful of powder and tried to copy how he’d done this with Qui-Gon for winter break.

“Ministry of Magic!”

***

With the lifting of student curfews so that everyone could have more time to study, it was fairly easy for Obi-Wan and Satine to remain unnoticed by professors and ghosts at such a late time of night, especially since they were currently positioned in their usual seats in the library. When the prying eyes of younger students passed and everyone tended to their own business, Obi-Wan finally felt safe enough to pull out the roll of parchment he’d been saving. He left it rolled beside him. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re doing this in the library.” He said.

“Not really. This is where we usually are.” She shrugged and he tried not to notice for the millionth time that evening that she wasn’t dressed in her usual Hogwarts uniform, but a comfortable t-shirt and jeans. Briefly, he felt out of place for dressing so formally to study, but she hadn’t commented on it. 

He leaned in, keeping his voice at whisper-level, “Qui-Gon doesn’t know we’re doing this so I wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible.”

She matched him and whether she did so to tease or to genuinely emulate him remained to be seen, “I figured as much.”

He sighed and paged through one of the books he’d laid out for them, “They want to see if they can catch Windu in the act, but Dooku isn’t so sure that’s possible.”

“And neither are you from the sounds of it.” She commented.

“How do you know?” He asked, defensively. He’d intended on building up to his reasoning, but was always jarred to have himself so easily read.

“Because otherwise, you wouldn’t feel the need to be doing this.” She gestured to the books all around them. “And really, how would one catch Windu being a Sith lord in the act? If he goes off on some senseless monologue?”

He shushed her, which enacted a reasonably annoyed look, but he couldn’t help his paranoia, “Wizards don’t usually go around throwing the term “Sith” hither and yon. It’s hardly ever spoken of, actually.” 

���I’ve noticed.” She said, “Though I’m not sure what denying that a dark part of history ever happened is going to do for anyone. How are we supposed to prepare if they truly are coming back as legend states?”

“Some say it’s legend, others say it’s prophecy.” He said in a low voice, “And until this year, I’m not sure which side I would have fell on or if I’d have a strong opinion at all, but with the combined events of this year, I would be a fool to deny that it very well could be happening in our own school.”

“Well, is it not fabled that Salazar Slytherin was a Sith?” She asked. “That makes Hogwarts’ history embedded in it.”

Obi-Wan paused as he considered this, “I wonder if that means there are relics within the school that could be hidden in plain sight as Sith heirlooms.”

“To channel dark magic, you mean.” She bobbed her head as she thought this over, “Kinda odd since Windu is such a minimalist with his office. There’s barely anything in it at all aside from the replica of the Sword of Gryffindor that hangs on the wall.”

“Godric Gryffindor was many things, but a Sith, he was not.” Obi-Wan pointed to a picture of Gryffindor, himself, using the glimmering sword of Gryffindor to ward off several Sith, who’s sword glimmered a rustic yellow color in this printed book.

“Let me see that,” She didn’t wait for his answer as she slid the book closer to her to read the text aloud, “The Sith saber is forged in an enchanted gold with a red hilt. Only when the Sith lord has struck down their desired foe does the blade glimmer a permanent red.” 

“Aurors apparently used to wield blue or green ones of the same make.” He said excitedly, “Without the blood-requirement of course. This was until everyone realized using wands was less barbaric and easier.”

Obi-Wan would not admit to picturing himself swinging around a glowing blue or green sword of his own. He never glorified violence, but it was truly something special to behold when presented to the right wizard.

“Well, I imagine they wouldn’t really have to use such medieval methods anymore now that the Sith have been gone for as long as they have.” She noted, “I feel as though I have seen one of these before, though.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward. The picture in the book wasn’t exactly a diagram by any measure. All it provided was the fuzzy-looking outline of a warrior with an even less descriptive depiction of the blade they swung. However, even as he was taking another glance, he remembered where.

“Professor Dooku has one in his office.” He said, “Amongst many different trinkets he’s collected over the years from his time as an Auror.”

To prove his point, Obi-Wan stood up in search of the yearbook from the previous year and added it to their collection of long volumes to peruse through. He paged through until he got to the Ravenclaw segment of the book. Under normal circumstances, Satine might point at their moving portraits and either complain about her yearbook photo turned out or tease Obi-Wan for how serious he looked in his. Instead, he turned the book back to her when they got to Dooku’s section, which was a portrait of him leaning on the desk of his office. 

He pointed at the bookshelf and she frowned and shook her head, “I don’t see a sword, Ben.”

He twisted the book back around and examined the entire image, taking in every single trinket and item exposed to them and leaned back, “You’re right.”

He got up and tried for a few other yearbooks and still, to no avail. Instead of the sword he’d recognized, there was a plain silver scabbard in its place.

“Maybe it’s just not in the frame? Or perhaps you’re mistaken.”

“Or maybe he didn’t have it yet.” He cocked his head to the side, “Still, he hasn’t been an Auror for well over 30 years. How would he come to possess something like that now?”

The question hung between them for a long moment, each clearly following the same hauntingly suspicious line of thinking before Obi-Wan shook his head, “It’s got to be a coincidence. Dooku was teaching during our confrontation with the phantom in the woods. He can’t be in two places at once.”

Satine blinked and her frown deepened, “Except… He wasn’t teaching the entire time?”

Obi-Wan’s nerves spiked, “What do you mean?”

“DADA was interrupted that day.” As she was saying it, he could hear the rising anxiety in her voice that matched the thrum of his quickened heartbeats, “Ventress came in with a note from Palpatine and Dooku said it was urgent and told us to study amongst ourselves.”

“Palpatine came alone to save Anakin.” Obi-Wan said slowly, “So, where did Dooku go?”

“He was at the Christmas party.” Satine answered instead, “When Anakin was poisoned.” 

Obi-Wan’s mouth felt incurably dry, his mind connecting dots that seemed to appear from thin air and it seemed the same level of panic was seeping through Satine from just across the table, “And on Halloween, he knew exactly how to stop the beast.”

“But he didn’t check out the book. Windu did.” She grasped for reason, which was unfortunate since either outcome was equally terrifying to be considered true.

“Why would you need to look up a book on Zillo Beasts when you already know how to handle one?”

“You mean,” She gnawed on her lower lip, “If you were already holding one captive.”

His head was full of lead as he nodded slowly at her. As a head of house, Professor Dooku shared all the same clearances and responsibilities as Windu. The only difference was that he distanced himself considerably from Anakin and kept himself impressively neutral. Because maybe, it wasn’t a passionate attack at all. 

“But… Why?” Obi-Wan found himself asking, even if he wasn’t sure he even wanted such answers. How could someone Qui-Gon trusted so desperately be the person behind all of this? It didn’t make sense after all this time for him to fall dark. Or maybe, he didn’t want it to make sense.

Then again, his hesitance to accept Qui-Gon’s plan to have Anakin at his side was making an increasing amount of sense. 

“I don’t think we have time to consider that.” Satine said urgently, “You said you and Qui-Gon discussed the plan with Dooku.”

“And Dooku said he was going to be guarding the tunnels. I highly doubt that’s true. He must be planning something.” He smacked his forehead, “We’ve got to find them.”

“But how?” She asked. “We have no idea where in the castle they even are.”

He glanced towards the rolled piece of parchment on the table and gave her a curious look. “Ready to put your enchantment skills to the test?” 

***

“This thing is hideous!” Satine complained as Obi-Wan unrolled the scroll, “Were you blindfolded when you drew it?”

“It was initially meant as a sketch to try and better understand the tunnels.” He hissed, “Not some grandiose work by Picasso.”

“And the color choice was necessary, how?” She implored by pointing to the crayon-etched scribbles that were supposed to mark down each house’s common areas. Even Obi-Wan had to concede that he didn’t pick the most flattering versions of blue, red, green and yellow.

“I didn’t want it to be bland. Now, are you quite finished insulting my artistic abilities?” He asked, “We’ve sort of got more pressing matters.”

“If you say so,” Though he didn’t miss her giving the map another concerned glance, “We’ll need to work at the exact same time if this is going to remotely work. And you did not do us many favors by drawing this so haphazard.”

“It wasn’t meant for anyone outside of myself.”

“You should know by now that there is little you can keep from me.” She sighed, but extended her wand towards the paper and fixed him with a cautionary glance, “Ready?”

They started with the homunculus charm, which required the both of them to pour forth a great deal of individualized focus, especially since this was not a charm taught to them thus far. Sometimes, it paid to read outside the realms of their required assignments. Or for Obi-Wan and Satine, that meant reading just about every single book they could get their hands on.

When his eyes flickered open, where there had once been blank spots, there were now various little ugly named smudges.

“Don’t say anything,” He rolled his eyes, predicting Satine’s annoyance with ease. Sure enough, she had also rolled her eyes.

“I think it speaks for itself.” She said instead, but leaned forward across the table to try and figure out where Qui-Gon and Anakin, or worse, Dooku, was. “How are we supposed to identify what any of these landmarks are when they are just blobs of colorful scribble?”

“I can tell what they are, thank you very much.” He scanned the map as quickly as he could to desperately try to find Anakin and Qui-Gon, who he desperately hoped were separate from Dooku. 

“Qui-Gon’s with Windu near the green house.” He frowned, “Where the hell is Anakin?”

Satine stood closer to him, her chin brushing against his shoulder as she peered as close as she could, “There! He’s moving…”

“Towards Dooku’s office.” Obi-Wan panicked, “And Dooku is moving there too. We’ve got to stop him.”

“Should we get Qui-Gon?” She immediately picked up stride and followed straight behind him as he dashed out of the library and through some eager first years that were very confused by the sudden energy burst from their esteemed prefects. Obi-Wan didn’t have the presence of mind to care about anything aside from saving Anakin.

“No time!” He called over his shoulder while he ran ahead.

Though he didn’t love the concept of admitting Satine was right about his map, he had to admit it was a bit dodgy to follow in a pinch. Then again, reading anything was difficult while running with the full weight of your mentee’s life weighing on your shoulders (again). Luckily, he essentially had the non-secretive parts of the school memorized entirely. 

“We’ll have to take a shortcut!” Satine cut through his thoughts with the accuracy of someone who may know him a little too well at this point in their friendship, “Or else we’ll never make it.”

Thinking quick, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the main entrance of the castle, knowing from extensive research during Anakin’s kidnapping that the closest means to Ravenclaw tower (and Dooku’s office by default) was through the tunnel that began behind one of the tapestries donning the walls.

However, they were surprised to find that none other than a very sweaty Cody Fett was emerging from the large doors- broomstick slung over his shoulder.

“Cody?” Satine beat him to his incredulousness, which allowed him time to tear the tapestry off the wall, “What are you doing?”

“Practicing for Quidditch!” Cody beamed. 

“You're supposed to be using the lack of curfew for studying,” She put her hands on her hips. “And Quidditch is over!”

“Satine!” Obi-Wan gestured towards the now-open entrance, pleading for her to do this at a different time and she immediately turned on her heels to follow him.

“First of all,” Cody began hotly as he followed them wordlessly down the dark alleyway, “Quidditch is never over! Let’s get that straight right now. Secondly, THIS DOESN’T LOOK LIKE STUDYING TO ME!” He began to shout as he picked up into a full sprint after them, still not quite asking what they were doing.

“Dooku’s the bad guy and we’ve got to stop him! That reason enough for you?” Obi-Wan countered. 

“Actually… Yes.” 

***

It had been easier than he had expected to find Dooku once he tumbled out of the fireplace. The ministry was empty save for a line of sooty footprints leading towards what seemed to be a lift. He brushed himself off, drew his wand and inspected the lift. Instead of numbers at the top there were letters and odd symbols, but the one it was currently stopped on was ‘M’ which gave him not much else to go on, except for which button to hit when the lift finally made its way back up to him.

He stepped inside and hit the button, expecting a descent... Not to be rocketed backwards. He got knocked to the ground, wand skittering out of reach. It stopped suddenly and Anakin tried to push himself up when suddenly the lift dropped like a stone. He wasn’t too sorry he had been on the ground when it did because he managed not to be knocked around too much at the shaky descent. Then it stopped once more and the doors swished open. Anakin took very little time grabbing his wand from where it was precariously perched over a gap in the floor and stepped out on the cold black flooring. He took a minute to collect himself, wizards really must not have the kind of safety standards that most muggles did. He decided to stuff his wand back into his robe, not wanting to lose it as he looked around.

It was rather dark down here, and it was giving him an odd sense of deja vu. He could no longer see Dooku’s footprints, so either he’d cleaned himself up during the ride, or they blended right into the floor. He felt some sort of presence behind him, but all that was to his back was the wall. He took a cautious few steps forward and when nothing happened and no one jumped out at him he continued onward.

The hallway was lined with doors, but they had no doorknobs. He tried his hand at opening one, but no matter which way he pushed or pulled it held fast. At least, he figured, that gave him less of a chance of getting lost. The whole thing was uncomfortably familiar as he walked carefully along. There was little else to stray him from a straight path and he felt it was the correct way to go anyways.

Then he saw it: the door at the end of the hallway, and he was reminded of a few of his dreams. They were hard to remember beyond fragments, but he recognized it as the one he was always reaching towards before falling back to the Zillo Beast chamber. Though the unlikeliness of that happening while he was awake was minimal, he still held his breath as he reached his hand out to grasp the doorknob. Nothing happened except for a whoosh of cold air that blew past him as he pulled it open.

The door closed behind him, leaving him in a space with 12 doors, which formed a rather impossible circle around the door he just entered from. Anakin didn’t have much of a clue where to go from here, having never gotten here before in his dreams and not seeing any footprints on the ground. So, he did what any young Gryffindor would do and approached one at random. He turned the handle, locked. He moved to the next, this one did open and he moved through the door cautiously.

It looked to be a classroom, not unlike the ones at Hogwarts, but the blackboards were unreadable with symbols he’d never seen before etched onto them. Each desk helped form a semi-circle, with the same odd symbols written in nearly the same way on every single one. At the center of the room was a large metal tub. Though he likely shouldn’t have approached it, it was all so strange he felt inclined too. They looked to be odd fish, swimming around in something that seemed just a little too thick to be water. He leaned forward to get a better look.

Brains. Wrinkly and pink swam around with some sort of tendrils. They seemed not to see as they bumped into each other, their membranes squishing from another.

“Oh gross!” Anakin yelled and he moved swiftly in the nick of time as one of the tendrils lashed out right where he’d once been standing. Anakin held his breath as the slimy pink appendage slid around the edge of the tank, searching for the disturbance, before slowly falling back into the not-water with a plunk.

He stayed frozen for a few minutes before he slowly turned to leave and select a new door that would hopefully take him to a much less disgusting room, but the door he’d entered in was gone. He gasped in panic, which in turn made the brains in the tank splash around trying to catch the intruder, but he wasn’t planning on letting them. Another door was at the front of the classroom and he launched himself towards it, hands over his head in case they could reach him at a distance. He didn’t even think to check what was on the other side.

He was floating. Hair rising at the lack of gravity and he did remember this feeling from when he used to do it by accident. In fact, he wondered if he had done it by accident before looking around.

This room seemed infinite. Twinkling lights going on forever in each direction, stars, he had to assume as his eyes caught on the scale replica of the planet earth. In fact, all the planets were present, and orbiting around the brightest light in the room was the sun. Anakin tried to take a step and ended up flipping completely over, floating over the sun, so close he could almost feel that it was giving off enough heat to singe his eyebrows off. The next door came into sight shortly after and he barely managed to catch the door frame and lower himself enough to open it for himself. He tried not to think about what would have happened if he’d just kept going.

The next room looked like the potions storage, nothing really unique when you considered the brain room, and the room that was outer space. This room though was loud as there was a rather wide display of clocks. Everything from cuckoo clocks to hour glasses lined every wall and shelf in sight. The whole room seemed to shutter every second as if there was a clock resting in the very walls, which was rather plausible given everything else he’d just witnessed. Anakin took a moment to catch his breath and look around. The next door was just to the left past a shelf with a rather handsome series of pocket watches. It seemed too easy, but Anakin couldn’t complain.

That door led into a room that could have been a warehouse. Tall shelves lined with oddly glowing spheres. This room seemed to whisper to him and he felt his feet moving down the center aisle before he could fully register it. It felt like there was something here that was his, that he’d been missing and if he just could touch it he’d feel complete.

What stopped him dead in his tracks though, was the flash of a purple spell that hit him at full force.

“You’re rather lucky that you’re wanted alive,” Dooku’s voice echoed around the room and Anakin worked hard to shake off the low level stunning charm, “Because I really ought to kill you for interfering in my work,” He managed to sit up though, his legs still felt frozen and his heart caught in his throat as Dooku glared down at him.

“It was you! This whole time,” Anakin managed as his teeth unstuck themselves, “Not Windu!”

“You were quick to suspect Mace,” Dooku’s wand twitched, “It was so easy to go along with,” Anakin glared, trying and failing to stand.

“But why?” Anakin growled, “I never did anything to you.”

“Not everything is about you, Skywalker,” Dooku explained like this was any old school lecture, “There are things bigger than you in the works,” He looked down at Anakin with distaste, “much bigger.”

“And? Clearly I am involved since you tried to murder me multiple times,” Anakin pointed out, “What’s stopping you now anyways?” Dooku’s nostrils flared at the annoyance and he pressed the tip of his wand very purposely into Anakin’s forehead.

“Nothing. Nothing is stopping me from ending you right now,” He warned, “Your involvement is unfortunate, but it is foretold,” Dooku flicked his wand up, a gesture to stand and Anakin was prodded as they moved further into the room. Despite the danger, Anakin could still feel that call, that something in here was meant for him and with each step they seemed to get closer to it. Until they approached a row of orbs and Anakin was certain it was here and right above them. 

And Dooku was reaching for it.

Except, he didn’t. The orb Dooku reached towards was the one next to his. He grabbed it tightly, body tense as if he expected something to happen, but nothing did. Dooku gently pulled the orb down, rubbing it a little to wipe off the dust.

“What are these?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask. Dooku looked at him in mild annoyance, but it seemed being a professor didn’t wear off so easily.

“These are prophecies,” He explained, “They’re recorded in books, yes, but they’re stored here for their chosen one to find them,” Anakin glanced at the orb that started to glow as he drew nearer to it.

“So that one’s yours?” He pointed towards the dusty dull prophecy in Dooku’s hands, he wondered then, if Dooku’s looked liked it was glowing to him.

“Yes, this is the prophecy of how to thwart death,” He held it up for Anakin to see, “With this, and your eventual sacrifice, I’ll be able to steal back what death has stolen from me.”

“So what? You want to be young again?” Anakin couldn’t really see the point, but Dooku was getting up there in years, maybe he’d feel the same when he was older.

“No you insolent child,” Dooku tried rubbing the prophecy again, “Death stole away my sister and I will save her, even at the cost of the lives of others.”

“Oh,” Anakin could kind of understand that. He didn’t have much family, but should anything happen to his mum he’d probably do anything to get her back.

“So perhaps you understand,” Dooku nodded, “It’s prophesied that you must die. I find the waste of human life distasteful, but when the situation calls for it, I’ll do what I must.”

“So what was the point of the Zillo Beast,” Anakin cut in.

“The Beast itself was another avenue for another means,” He answered cryptically, “But the sword in the temple was meant for you,” Anakin shuddered at the sensation of ghost chains wrapped around his wrists, “And when the beast broke loose the plan had to-”

Anakin frowned and tried to think of why Dooku had stopped speaking. He’d been so previously animated in the midst of his speech while holding the dim orb that it was strange for there to be nothing but silence. He almost wanted to challenge the recently proclaimed Sith lord, but didn’t because it seemed the voices that spoke to Anakin were finally loud enough for Dooku to bear and see.

To his upper left, just within reach, the orb that called to Anakin illuminated a loud electric blue that spoke to Anakin without words, but with feelings. It called to him like sirens singing their alluring song to draw in their prey. It was telling him to reach out, to grasp his future in his hands, to accept what so few could even dream of.

But how could any of that be real? Anakin held no true understanding of this place, but knew it was not meant for nobodies like him. It was for heroes and great conquerors of history. How could someone who knew so little become anything to anyone?

Still, he closed his hand around the orb and the moment he made contact, words poured from him in a voice that was not his own.

“Anakin!” He was vaguely aware of Obi-Wan’s voice and presence, but didn’t dare move as he spoke and felt the great prophecy wash over him. This tucked away room in the Ministry of Magic faded into nothingness and instead, he was on a white plain of existence where it all seemed to make sense.

***

It only took seeing the glowing orb in Anakin’s hand for Obi-Wan to understand why the boy seemed to enter a mysterious trance. It was unfortunate timing, of course, because Dooku, who seemed to see this as his ample opportunity to strike Anakin down, was firing bursts of light at them, nearly landing a blow if it were not for Cody throwing Anakin over his shoulder with ease.

“What’s wrong with him?” He yelled.

“It’s a prophecy!” Satine and Obi-Wan shouted at the same time all the while sending their own retaliation back at Dooku, “Stupefy!”

“Silly children,” Dooku taunted, “Do you truly believe you actually have what it takes to resist the unyielding power of the dark side?”

“It can’t be that strong,” Obi-Wan said, “We’re not the ones fighting children in this scenario.”

“Easy now, Kenobi,” Dooku’s attacks seemed almost effortless. Almost. Obi-Wan could spot the sweat beginning to glisten at his temples. He didn’t want to fail again. “Your family would benefit greatly when the Sith take back what’s rightfully theirs.”

His eyes were forced to shift to Satine, who was thus far the closest to hitting him, “I cannot say the same for you, Ms. Kryze.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a part of whatever world you’re conjuring anyway.” She argued.

“That goes second for me.” Cody used the hand that was not holding Anakin in place to cover for her.

They all danced like this for a minute, parrying and attacking while defending the other, all the while essentially playing hide and seek through the never ending lines of shelved prophecy orbs. Obi-Wan knew it would not be able to go on forever. They needed an escape plan since beating Dooku head-on was simply not feasible, especially not with Anakin presently unconscious.

Unfortunately, it never came as Anakin began seizing up and skittering off of Cody’s back and onto the floor with a thud that made Obi-Wan’s heart leap in his chest. While Cody and Satine immediately prepared themselves to defend Obi-Wan as he slid to the floor alongside Anakin, he really tried not to think about how horrible this was looking for them.

“Anakin, get up.” Obi-Wan begged as he shook him slightly, but the boy was limp in his arms. When he looked at his hand, it was clear he still gripped the glowing orb tightly. Even if it went against any divination class he ever took, he reached out and touched the orb, thus essentially sharing Anakin’s vision.

Without volition, he repeated the words that harmoniously flowed through him.

In the ashes of hypocrisy…  the lords of the Sith return,

Opposed only by a Boy born when two worlds cross.

 Granted with power his enemies cannot learn,

The Hero will bring balance at the hand of great loss.

Muggles and wizards join in one common goal,

To foil the Father of Revolution’s blood-driven lie.

At the most desperate hour a betrayal will cut whole,

And for the Hero to live, the Father must die.

When Obi-Wan came to, he half-expected to already be dead by the onslaught of Dooku’s wrath, but found that not only was he alive, but being essentially cradled in Satine’s lap as she looked down at him in a mix of horror and confusion. She’d been patting him on the cheeks, obviously, trying to bring him back to a state of wakefulness. 

He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed by it, because before he knew it, she was yanking him to his feet so fast that it caused a headrush.

“Where’s-” And once again his thoughts were interrupted and this time by the sight of none other than Qui-Gon Jinn warding off Professor Dooku, not even bothering to look back at them as he stood confidently against his mentor. Obi-Wan’s heart briefly hurt for him, but he couldn’t allow it to last long, since he just realized that Anakin had also snapped out of his state of ambiguous consciousness. 

“Run!” Qui-Gon ordered.

One more look at the venom that poured from the dark wizard across the way caused each of them to listen.

***

Qui-Gon Jinn fully believed in the prophetic abilities of their ancestors. It was not a belief shared by many and was simultaneously misunderstood by most. He knew what even some of his friends thought of this interest in premonitions. They thought he simply kept his head in the clouds and looked for every literal meaning of the prophecies of old and new. They assumed he was starry eyed and wanted to know the future for his own self-gain. While, yes, he was fascinated by the brilliant minds of the past and how they were open to such premonitions, he was never narcissistic enough to believe he could control the fates to his own self-gain. In fact, he did not want to under any circumstance. Such an obsession led to darkness.

One had to remain in the present, consider the past, and be mindful of the future. 

That was a lesson taught to him by his mentor.

The very same mentor who saved his life on multiple occasions, usually from his own shortcomings, and sagely shared his pastime of analyzing prophecy with him. 

And yet, here they stood, magical currents clashing evidently not for the first time- once again after he’d tried to kill children. He supposed it was the cruelest form of irony in a sense. Here he had even come to see blips of the future and while vague, resonated with him profoundly. He’d shared whatever he could with Dooku, including his belief that the chosen one was approaching. After all, he’d been seeing him long before in brief dreams- always surrounded by the feeling of absolute balance. 

It was an experience that Dooku had been very interested in since it began a few years back. He’d warned Qui-Gon on countless occasions that the chosen one’s appearance would yield forth a darkness that would leave scars beyond repair. Qui-Gon didn’t realize he’d meant like this.

“I’ve taught you well, Qui-Gon.” He remarked, “It does not have to end in unnecessary bloodshed.”

“I agree.” Qui-Gon gritted, “Lower your wand.”

He chuckled as if Qui-Gon had merely bested him at a game of chess and not as though they were currently out for each other’s necks. “You and I both know I cannot do that. That boy stands in the way of everything I’ve worked hard to create.”

“And what is that?” Qui-Gon fired back, intensifying the force of his attack, slightly dominating the violet beam that erupted from Dooku’s wand.

As quickly as he’d gained the advantage in their tug of war, he hastily lost it when Dooku flared with an emotion he’d never seen before from his former mentor. So much so, the purple lightning bled into a violent red. 

“Peace… Justice… Revolution.”

“Peace and justice for whom? Purebloods? The Sith?” Qui-Gon needed to buy the kids time for their escape. There were normally many powerful wizards in the Ministry of Magic, but at such a late hour, it was only occupied by overnight guards and they would be of little use to this present situation. Who they really needed, was Yoda.

Qui-Gon knew he was not powerful enough to best Dooku in a straight duel. He could only hold him off for long-enough to allow the kids to get safely back to the castle. And then what? He was unsure.

“Your lack of foresight disappoints me, my young protégé.” He said in what Qui-Gon could now see was mock-pity. He avoided the urge to kick himself for not seeing it sooner, “Corruption lines the walls of your precious ministry and Hogwarts too. It will be their downfall in the end.”

“And yet, you’ve blinded yourself into believing you could stop fate?” Qui-Gon smiled, “Anakin is the chosen one and he will save us all. You heard it.”

“To what end, Qui-Gon?” Dooku shoved forward, pushing Qui-Gon to the point where he could feel his feet sliding backwards against the smooth floor. He clenched his teeth and tried to use every ounce of his strength to not make an easy end of it. 

He was so strained in his defense, he could not articulate a response, but Dooku didn’t wait for one anyway, “When have you ever known the heroes from legend to ever survive beyond their great purpose in life?”

He refused to accept that, even if the evidence of the past said otherwise. It was clear to him now, in the midst of the onslaught that rang his muscles and mind drained, that his former mentor and friend had fallen beyond the point of saving. And there was once a time that Qui-Gon believed anyone capable of redemption.

“Anakin will. I’ll see to that.”

“Now, who’s trying to belay fate?” Dooku’s smile was so foreign on his face that Qui-Gon almost didn’t recognize him. “Let go and join us. Open your eyes to the hypocrisy overlooked by your Minister of Magic, by Yoda, by the world.”

“I will never join you, my friend,” Qui-Gon swallowed and tightened his grip, well aware that the green fuse of light that burst from his wand was weakening the more intense their bonded beams got at the center, “I’m deeply sorry that it’s come to this.”

“No more sorry than I, Qui-Gon Jinn.” And for just a minutia of a moment, the older man seemed sincere, “Together, we would have been unbreakable.”

What wasn’t unbreakable were the thousands of glass orbs that lined every shelf that surrounded them. This, while not entirely lost on Qui-Gon and more or less simply on the backburner of his thoughts, became impeccably obvious when all at once, the orbs rose from their positions on the shelves and began flinging towards Dooku, shattering on the ground as one narrowly missed him. 

Others did not miss, and broke the Sith’s focus. Glass shattered everywhere, but before Qui-Gon could so much as blink and process how this was happening, the shelves beside them started to dramatically cave in all the while the orbs were pelting Dooku at an increasingly fast pace.

“What the-” Dooku immediately directed his wandwork to deflect the glass hurtling towards him.

As Qui-Gon ran, retreating down the way he’d originally come, he was joined soon by Anakin and then Obi-Wan, Satine, and Cody, who all continued to fire backwards as they ran like spitfire machines. Each looked quite smug for committing extensive vandalism. 

“I told you to run!” He yelled over the mass destruction all around them, “Not destroy the Ministry of Magic.”

“You didn’t say where to run.” Obi-Wan laughed.

“I thought that was obvious.” He said and turned to the laughing Anakin, who was still cradling the glowing orb that had chosen him to fit the grand prophecy, “And why do I feel like this was partially your idea?

“What gave it away?”

“I’m the one who set the shelves to fall!” Cody bragged triumphantly.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Satine added. 

Dooku, finally understanding what was happening, began to fire back and it was in no time that the orbs were rewired to follow them as he thundered their way.

“Grab hands!” He shouted and without hesitance, the children followed his lead. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and they stopped in one place. Despite the swirl of emotions that begged way for release, he forced himself to a steady calm and successfully transported them out of sight just as the bookshelf to their left was about to collapse against them entirely.

They all tumbled onto the floor of his office in a pile of limbs, each trying to scramble to their feet. Anakin, despite the record breaking amount of near-death experiences he’d tacked up this year, was the first to pop up.

“That… Was TOTALLY AWESOME!” Anakin cheered and then immediately went into repeating the events of the night as if all present company hadn’t also lived it, “You two were all like pew pew pew… Buzz… And we came in with the crashing shelves and the shattering glass! And then he was all AH! Then the orbs came back at us and you whipped us through time and space!”

Regardless of his own weariness and his knowledge that he wouldn’t be sleeping properly for a long time, Qui-Gon couldn’t help the authentic laugh that bubbled up from a hidden spot in his chest, “Something tells me that won’t be the last adventure you experience here, Anakin.”

“I sure hope not!” He cheered, “That was way cooler than anything I’ve ever seen on TV.”

Satine seemed to internally debate this while Obi-Wan just looked intrigued by the mention of television. Cody could only laugh along with him. Qui-Gon felt himself mentally retreat, both from exhaustion and concern. What would become of Anakin now that it’s been confirmed that he is, indeed, the chosen one?

“I suppose this means we’re out a DADA professor.” Satine said.

“That’s your takeaway from all of this? More school?” Cody groaned.

“Qui-Gon, when you were dueling Dooku… He asked you to join “us” when asking you to drop rank.”

“Ridiculous of him to think Qui-Gon would ever,” Satine rolled her eyes.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Satine,” Qui-Gon smiled sadly, “But it takes constant diligence to reject darkness, for once you even consider that path, you cannot turn back.”

“That’s awfully cheery.” Cody muttered.

“What I mean to ask,” Obi-Wan interjected again, “Is who is Dooku working with?”

“The Sith have always had followers creeping in the shadows.” Qui-Gon said, “Though it should always be considered that typically, Sith lords traveled in pairs of two- no more, no less.”

“And they’re all going to keep coming after me?” Anakin asked in a small voice that was much less excited than previously.

Qui-Gon turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Darkness will always try to battle the light, Anakin, but you are not alone. I think we made that clear tonight.”

Qui-Gon waved the little note he’d found near Dooku’s fireplace- the one Anakin had scrawled out to indicate that he was following Dooku to the ministry of magic. 

Anakin looked between all of them with bright eyes and puffed his chest out, “I can do it. I’ll grow up to be big and strong and I’ll stop Dooku!”

Qui-Gon didn’t doubt that for one second. However, he just prayed that just this once, the hero got to live to see the happy ending.