#Why failures is dangerous if its worthless
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cosmicjoke · 9 months ago
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Okay, this is a bit of a call-out post, which I don't like to engage in, but some of the stuff that's been brought to my attention, that's apparently been being said about me and, by extension, people who share my views, isn't really something I can let stand.
So apparently there's some blogs going around vague posting about Levi fans who dare (oh the horror) to call Levi a good man and a hero, saying stuff like doing so is how one treads down the path toward Nazism, because it's a "denial" of Levi's faults, and if we don't condemn his violence as outright bad or wrong, then we're liable to start making excuses for and justifying all forms of violence.
Do I even need to lay out why this argument is absurd and absolutely childish at its core? I don't think so, but I will anyway.
One of the overarching and main themes of AoT is that we shouldn't flatly condemn people for their actions without first understanding the context of those actions. That nothing is ever so simple as being flatly right or wrong, good or bad. That there can be and are complicating factors that might lead to any, given person's actions or behavior.
Levi himself is a prime example of this, and we see the error of flatly condemning and writing him off as "bad" in the form of Jean's and Mikasa's judgmental and dismissive attitude toward him after seeing him engage in acts of violence, only to themselves be forced into similar acts moments later.
The stupidity inherent to uniformly condemning all violence as bad or wrong lies in its total failure to consider any mitigating circumstances that might have lead to the violence in the first place, and, ironically, it's THAT sort of basic and simplistic thinking that leads toward the kind of fanatical, ideological foundations of Nazism and other, similar movements. Nuanced thought, consideration, empathy and critical thinking are never the things that lead down that road. Moralistic and generalized view points are what do that. To call Levi a "morally grey" character is to fundamentally misunderstand that morality itself is a "grey" concept. There's no such thing a black and white morality. Almost nothing is always right and always wrong, including violence. Very few things, if anything, can be definitely categorized as right and wrong in and of itself. The argument that some things need to be wholly condemned or eradicated is, for example, the same sort of logic that people who advocate for censorship apply. All pornography is bad or wrong? Better to just flatly condemn and ban all of it, then. Oh my, you're going to let two men marry each other? What if someone wants to marry an animal next? Better just make gay marriage illegal then, I guess. Many Jews are bankers, and banking is a corrupt business that preys on people's vulnerabilities, thus, all Jews are really just money launders and loan sharks and need to be stopped. Killing and violence is always wrong, and so people who kill or commit acts of violence are always criminals and bad people with malicious intent or who reveal in other people's pain. See how that works? All generalizations like that lead to is mass persecution, either of a concept or of a person/group of people, without taking into consideration the actual complexity or nuanced reasoning for why something or someone might be a certain way or do a certain thing. That's what's dangerous.
To deny Levi is a good man or a hero because he commits acts of violence is to totaly deny and strip him of all the many aspects and characteristics of his personality that makes him who he actually is. Levi's violence doesn't define him. It isn't who he is. Rather, it's a product of the world he lives in and the circumstances of his upbringing and life. It doesn't signify the person he is at his core. It doesn't negate the immense compassion, kindness, empathy and sensitivity with which he regards and treats other people. It doesn't render his heroism worthless or questionable. It doesn't undermine his intentions or motivations. It doesn't rob his many sacrifices of their selflessness. That's why I say Levi is a good man. Not because he's on the "good guy side" or because he holds a certain set of ideological beliefs, but because of those inherent qualities which define him as a good man. Compassion, kindness, empathy, emotional intelligence, and a genuine desire to help others for others sake. He's a good person because he actually, truly cares about other people. Is that assessment of him supposed to somehow lead down the road to fanaticism? How absurd.
That's not to say Levi doesn't have flaws. Of course he does. He's a human being, and all human's are flawed. Nobody ever said Levi was a "perfect" hero, just that he is a hero. Understanding Levi's violence and where it comes from and why he engages in it doesn't mean we're excusing it or calling it "good". It's simply an attempt to understand and acknowledge one of the main themes of AoT, which is that a person committing a "bad act" doesn't in and of itself make them a "bad person", and that certain actions and behaviors that are deemed "bad" by society can and often do have reasonable and justifiable explanations at their root. Does Levi resort to violence too often and too easily? Sure. I've said that and acknowledged it on multiple occasions. I've dedicated entire, long-winded analysis posts to exploring the duality of Levi's compassionate and empathetic nature with the fact that he's one of the most violent characters in AoT. His knee-jerk reaction and response to most situations is to apply physical force of one kind or another. Levi is also an extremely emotional character, and is given at times to bouts of emotionally excessive response. When he kicks Eren and Jean after his conversation with Erwin. When he manhandles Historia for her initial, flat refusal to take the throne. When he kicks Eren's teeth in during the RtS arc, or on the airship in Liberio. When he tortures Zeke in the cart on the way to the capital. These are all instances of Levi giving in to his emotion and responding violently. And no, it's not good, but it also doesn't make Levi bad. It doesn't make his intentions malicious or cruel in nature. In all of these instances of violence on Levi's part, it's driven by an intense emotional response, generally in regard to some traumatic event. Levi learning Erwin might not be the good man he thought he was. Levi having to torture a man for specific information, only to have the point of it threatened by Historia's self-pity. Eren interfering with Levi's direct command during a situation in which time was severely limited in making a decision. Eren slaughtering countless innocent people. Zeke forcing Levi to kill more than two dozen of his own soldiers. All of the examples one could point to of Levi being "unnecessarily" violent, meaning in a way that didn't further some larger goal or cause, were all moments of emotional reaction linked either to trauma or urgency or both. Most of these responses from Levi, in fact, came about because he was upset about someone else getting hurt, or at the possibility of people getting hurt. They're rooted, at their core, in Levi's compassion for others. They're emotional responses triggered by Levi's empathy and care. He gets angry because he's scared or grief stricken over someone else' suffering. And that's my and other fans' only point. Levi's violence might be considered bad by some, but the underlying reasons for it almost always prove Levi's goodness. He responds so strongly because he cares. So to refuse to acknowledge the circumstances and context surrounding those acts of violence and to refuse to acknowledge the influence of his upbringing in his inclination to respond with violence is grossly unjust and unfair to who Levi is as a person. To pretend that his very nature can't be contradictory to his actions and behavior is to deny, not just Levi's complexity as a person, but the complexity of people overall. Because Levi's nature is, much of the time, contradictory to his actions, especially when one only looks at his actions in a vacuum instead of in context. He's a violent man who also holds more kindness and compassion in his heart for people than any other character in the story. That's a contradiction. But it's true, nonetheless. You can be a good person who does bad things, or things deemed wrong by others and society.
Levi doesn't enjoy violence, and anyone who says he does or tries to claim he does is flatly wrong. To say, just because Levi is good at violence, that must mean he's somehow born to it, or that it's in his nature to want to commit it, is equally unjust and unfair in the way it dismisses the circumstances of his life and upbringing. A person can be forced into doing something that goes against their core temperament and personality due to forces outside of their control, and acknowledging that about Levi and his violence isn't the same as claiming him to be a "perfect hero". He's not perfect, but he is a hero. He's a hero because he's inherently selfless and kind and empathetic toward other people and their suffering, because he's willing to do all he can to help other people, despite an upbringing which forced violence and a familiarity with violence into his life, despite a childhood and young adulthood filled with deprivation and poverty. He wasn't born with a violent temperament, he was raised in an environment that necessitated a reliance on violence in order to survive, and so we see that manifest in Levi as an adult. A reliance on violence to survive. Again, to not acknowledge that and the impact it had on Levi's behavior and actions is unjust and unfair to him as a person. A stupid oversimplification of not just Levi as a character, but of people in general, and of the concept of justifiable violence too. Pacifism is an ideal, but one which doesn't and can't always coexist with reality. To judge someone and condemn then for engaging in violence, no matter the circumstances surrounding that violence, when nature itself is predicated on violence, is absurd.
Context matters. Circumstances matter. Intent matters. Levi's violence was never ideological in its reasoning. He never committed acts of violence in service to some abstract school of thought or philosophy. He never killed anyone because he thought they represented or symbolized some great evil or threat to the world and needed to be eradicated as a result. Levi's acts of violence have always been practical in nature. Defense of himself and others against people directly threatening their well being. And further, Levi has never, not once, tried to impose his way of thinking or doing on a single, other person. He's always, always, allowed everyone to decide for themselves. To come to their own conclusions of what they believe is right and wrong, good or bad. He's always allowed everyone their own agency. He's never manipulated or badgered or bullied anyone into agreeing with him or tried to brainwash anyone into a certain set of ideological beliefs. He's only ever wanted and tried to ensure people the freedom to make those decisions for themselves, and he's only ever tried to protect people, more often than not at great cost to himself.
He's the very definition of a hero, and to accuse people who call him that of exhibiting the kind of ideological thinking that leads to Nazism is not only absurd, but a massive insult, both to Levi's character and to the intelligence of his fans. As if they're incapable of understanding the nature of violence because they differentiate between acts of violence by applying critical thought to outside factors and mitigating circumstances. I guess our justice system is similarly incapable of understanding the nature of violence too, then, because it also dares to weigh outside factors and mitigating circumstances when judging a person's "crimes" or "guilt". It isn't the people who apply nuanced thought and consideration to Levi's actions who are susceptible to fanaticism, it's the people making those sorts of accusations who are, in exposing their total inability to divorce themselves from their black and white view of reality.
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wintersoldierbmb · 2 years ago
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the part of my will i feel like writing
december 30 2022
3am
cant even remember the last time i logged into this page
i haven’t wrote down a single one of my problems. i have been using my old ways to cope with the pain i have been enduring  for the last few months - drugs, alcohol, & self-harm
something in me is so hurt now than it ever has been before. every single day is the same cycle of crying, cutting, getting high, drinking until it hurts to even smell the bottle... 
i have never felt so worthless in my entire life. i feel like a dirty rag, wringed and set out to dry.
my friends don’t love me anymore and i always feel alone. i smoke every day just to distract myself from how unappreciated i feel. i get drunk and cry my tears, sobbing silently for hours, to eventually fall asleep to wake up and do the same thing over again. i deserve this suffering, and i know that this is my own fault for trying to fit myself in places where i don’t belong. all i ever wanted to do was be good, but i make mistakes and bad choices that set me back more every time. i bully, neglect, and abuse myself every day in order to remember what problems i have that need to be fixed, but i can never fix them. i feel pitiful for being a grown ass man having to come and humiliate myself on here just to stop from putting myself in danger.
my birthday was the 23rd. i turned 19 (too old to be in this position) and it was the first birthday in years that i didn’t cry(i cried the next day). my feelings have been so hurt since. i miss my mama very much and it’s hard to call her without breaking down. i feel so bad for ruining my parents’ lives. i miss my grandparents very much and i hate that i can never feel the same around them because of what a terrible son i am.
i hate that my mother has to bear the cross that is having me as her child. i pray every day that my life is taken from me so that my family and “friends” can have some relief that i am gone. i don’t matter enough to anyone to where me going missing would bring them some great fortune, but i know for a fact that everyone who has had a part in taking care of me will experience some relief followed by my death. i really have no way to put this without making it sound as selfish as it does, so if it does sound selfish, so be it. all i know to do at the moment is write my truth so i can at least say i talked about it. this is the type of depression that is hard to understand, so i could care less about judgement, or what my depression “sounds like”.
i’m too much of a coward to fully commit suicide. it takes too long to prepare for, it hurts, and it’s scary. not to mention its a one-way pass to hell. that’s why i haven’t killed myself. so instead, i’m going to work my way around it. the drugs and alcohol are keeping me on a slow and steady decline, and one of these days a little will end up being too much and i’ll overdose and die. this is all i want at the moment. when i die, i want everything that i own to be given to my mother directly. i don’t care what happens to my things or my money as long as my family gets it. when i die, tell my best friends Keith and Jackson that i love them very much, and i’m sorry i wasn’t a better friend to them. if you two ever get the chance to read this personally, i just want you both to know you guys meant everything to me the whole time, even if i don’t mean anything to y’all. when i die, tell my siblings to be the opposite of me. don’t be a failure, like your brother is. don’t fall into addiction in any form, and don’t let THINGS control your life or how you feel about it. don’t let STUFF tell you how much you are valued, because stuff means nothing compared to your heart. i love you all very much, all my sisters and both of my brothers. as for the rest of my family, i love you all more than words can say, and i hope you all know that whatever happens to me after tonight was already supposed to happen. if i do anything to myself at all just know i am doing it for the best. i don’t want anyone to feel sad about my passing. please don’t have a funeral procession for me, i just want to be forgotten forever. i know how unrealistic that sounds, but whatever. i don’t know if this is going to be the last thing i ever say to anyone, so i am writing my all down on this post. Lord knows i want to die more than anything right now.
ultimately i just want to die to be in heaven with my Lord. i am very faithful to my relationship with God and i know that i don’t deserve any of the fruits of living freely on earth. i have disappointed God and i make Him angrier at me every day. i have disappointed all of my friends and family, and i’ve made a fool of myself my entire life just trying to be normal. today i accept my problems and i only plan on handling them by any means necessary.
i am not going to end my life tonight, or tomorrow. i don’t know whether i will or i won’t. assuming anyone cares about what happens to me, i don’t want anyone to feel bad or think that my safety is at risk. i am fine. i am only doing what i know to do, and i apologize.
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fictionadventurer · 2 years ago
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"No man is a failure who has friends" is a common message in Capra films (it's used word-for-word in It's a Wonderful Life and You Can't Take It With You, and very similar sentiments are expressed in Meet John Doe), and it troubles me. He always uses it in a context where he means to say that being rich isn't what makes you a success, but it comes dangerously close to saying that popularity determines your worth. Of course we all know that's not true. Very good men are often very unpopular because of their principles, and plenty of innocent, decent people are unjustly disliked, or just don't have anyone around willing to befriend them. Friendship is a two-way street and people often don't reciprocate. Often, the bad men of the world gain the most popularity.
But looking at the films as a whole, of course Capra doesn't mean to say that you're a failure if you're unpopular. In context, he's not saying that George's life only has value because he has friends. His life would have been worth living even if he'd come back to jail time in a town that hated him, because the good things in life are good and worthwhile no matter how much bad surrounds them. But George needed to know that his friends are a treasure far greater than all of Potter's power and money. He had none of the worldly markers of success, but when he was at his lowest, he had people willing to rally to his aid. In this context, no man is a failure who has friends because friends help lift you out of failure. It's a message to treasure community more than the wealth one gains through their own power.
I think it's fascinating that, before George goes to the bridge, Potter is the one who gives him the correct solution: "Why don't you go to that rabble that you care so much about?" He says it snidely, sarcastically, mocking George for giving up his hopes and dreams for people who will turn against him now that he's failed them. In his despair, George feels that Potter's right--he's failed his community and they're going to hate him for it. He thinks he has no friends to turn to. He's spent so long helping other people that he doesn't consider that he could be worth helping. But when he returns with his new appreciation for life, he gets to see how wrong he was. People were grateful for the chance to help a man who'd done so much for them. He wasn't a failure in the eyes of his community--he was a friend.
Every time a Capra film says "No man is a failure who has friends", it's 1000% aimed at the Potters of the world. They view people as cattle, gladly trampling them in the dirt on their way to success. The people like George, who care about their neighbors and give up their dreams for the sake of others may look like losers compared to the big, rich, successful men, but it's those rich men who've lost everything because they stand alone at the top, looking down at a world of people they despise, instead of down on the ground sharing fellowship with the common men. George made the difficult, selfless choices for the sake of his neighbors, and the community appreciated it. Potter is respected and feared because he chose to value power and money, but George is loved because he chose to love. It's a metaphor, a morality play, contrasting the path of greed with the path of love. The line itself can be troubling, but taken in context, its meaning can be understood. It's not a message meant to trample the downtrodden and friendless, but to lift them up by reminding them of important truths. People matter more than power and wealth. You don't have to accomplish everything on your own. Despair is a liar when it says you're worthless. You matter to the people around you. It's a hopeful, heartening message for the common man, and It's a Wonderful Life is Capra's greatest film because it has the most context to make his actual meaning clear.
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desired-victim · 3 years ago
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Helloo! I wanted to request hisoka with corruption kink. Just write however you want to lolol i dont mind any freaky🏃
Ha *wipes sweat off forehead* I hope this hard work pays off. I put every ounce of effort in writing this 😮‍💨. I didn’t do any bullet points on this one but it does have about four thousand words! Please ignore the possible grammar mistakes, I do have trouble writing dialogue. I worked on yours all night long and I’m exhausted. My fingers sure are. I kept your request deeply in mind. You can see poor, little (Y/N)’s innocence melt right off her like ice cream ;). Anyway, here’s your request, my love 💕
I wanted to honor the divine feminine so you will see my appreciation for the female body below 👇
💕TW: The content below contains: degradation, domination kink, submission kink, dub con, threat of forced anal intercourse, pure smut, corruption kink, possible bad grammar, loss of virginity, dirty talk, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, corruption of innocence, Oh, and Hisoka is a TW itself.
Enjoy…
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He’s tall.
God, he is so tall. Such long, strong legs - slender yet thick with muscle. Despite being erotically pleasant, his legs weren’t the best part of him. The best part of him was what your eyes followed. From his shins, to his knees, to his thighs, to his hips, to that beautifully sculpted torso of his, to his neck, and then you reached his eyes.
Those eyes. Those sharp, golden eyes of his.
His eyes unsettled most people. It was as though they could pierce your very soul, and see how weak and worthless you truly are. He's a predator - always keen, always aware, and always watching for a reason for you to be his next target.
Hisoka… how did you get those eyes?
She wondered how she caught his attention. He was the type of man to overlook girls like her. A blushing, doe eyed dolt, who could barely speak to strangers without stuttering a storm.
Why? Why would someone like Hisoka find her worthy of even being near him? Of being in his bed, of being by his side, of being between his legs. He is so very special, and I'm…
“My Little Slice, you look delightful when your down there~”
His voice shook her out of her thoughts. She looked at his teasing gaze and meekly lowered her sight to his lips. There, she saw them curl up into a grin. She tensed up and covered her naked chest with her arms. Just then, she realized how unbelievably exposed she was to his scrutiny.
“Oh, nervous now~,” he laughed out, sitting up from the headboard and closer to her face, “isn’t that sweet…”
More red than ever, she turned her face from Hisoka and leaned back. Instead of letting her move away, his hand wrapped around her wrist and thrusted her towards him. She yelped out as her cheek pressed against his hard chest, her face embarrassingly hotter than his cool skin. His chest rumbled as he let out a chuckle.
She put her hands against his chest and attempted to pull away, but his arm wrapped itself around her. She struggled to shove herself away and her efforts were all for nothing; he hadn’t moved an inch.
Perhaps it was foolish to pursue a 200th floor fighter. Where was her older brother to protect her now? He had lectured her beforehand about the dangerous people here and she laughed him off and teased him about being some sort of guard dog. Now, she needed him more than ever. She had never been in a situation like this before.
“No boys allowed, Y/N!” he usually shouted out, a vein practically popping out of his forehead. It almost seemed like he loved saying that as it was repeated over and over throughout her life.
All she wanted to do was explore a place she never ventured to. To seek the thrill that felt so curious and good, yet hidden like the inside of a flower that hasn't bloomed yet. A buzzing heartbeat that formed when she laid alone at night and gently ran her fingers up her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and shivers.
Please help me, B/N…
Her struggles came to an end as she huffed, breathlessly. Hisoka’s hand trailed down her shoulders to her waist and to her hips. His hand was met with the pleasant plumpness of her bottom. She squeaked out in shock as his hand roughly squeezed her ass and kneaded it like dough. A loud crack reverated across the room as he slapped it, leaving a red blur behind. She gasped and her face converted into an embarrassed cringe. Frustrated tears pricked in her eyes as her fingernails dug deeply into his skin.
Once again, she attempted to wiggle away. Instead of his arm wrapping around her shoulders once again, she was swept over and under him. He was hovering over her and there was no way to escape. Her previous attempts at fighting back were a failure, and she no longer wanted to fight, only to flee.
Her eyes shot out towards Hisoka’s face only to find him smiling down at her. His warm breath fanning her face and his hips between her thighs.
The glint in his eyes shook her to the core. His facial expression was teasing and playful, but his eyes told a completely different story. She’s seen that look on his face before. The same expression on his face as he killed his opponents. He looked like an apex predator who was about to break the neck of his prey with his jaws.
“You’ve never been fucked before, haven’t you?” he asked, his finger trailing down her cheek, rubbing off a tear she hadn’t noticed fell.
Her face scrunched up at his vulgar language.
“No, I’ve never been f-“ she paused, hesitating before quickly spitting out, “no, ive never been f… fucked before.” Another tear came out of her eye. She never cursed - She wasn’t allowed to.
Hisoka giggled, his smile twisting even further. He looked down at her precious expression and felt his arousal rise.
“You're utterly adorable, you know that? I almost feel a little bad about this. Almost. But you wanted to play, and don’t be a spoiled brat when the other player is better at the game than you.” He mocked, his sardonic gaze on her. It made her want to shrink into the mattress and never come out.
“Now, now,” he said, sitting up, “I’ll make it as comfortable as I can.”
He spread her thighs and examined her high waisted shorts. He grabbed the zipper at the top and unzipped it. Down and down it went, until her underwear was revealed to him.
“After all, the first cut into the cake has to be perfect.”
Her shorts were suddenly off her and on the ground. She was only in her underwear now, more exposed than ever. Most naked she’d been since that time she went to the beach. She’d gotten sunburnt that day. At least then she had a top, now her whole body was on display to him.
Hisoka hummed as he tugged his own bottoms off, revealing the thick length of his cock. His cock looked magnificent combined with the rest of his body. That sexy v-cut of his looked like two arrows directing me to look at his big dick, so large it almost dangled under its own weight. It held its own though, refusing to droop over.
How is that thing going to fit inside of me? she thought.
He spread her legs wide open and examined the thin material of her underwear as the form of her vulva showed through. The flimsy material was practically invisible.
Hisoka’s big hands grabbed her behind her knees, pushing her legs up while also spreading them even further. The bed squeaked out as Hisoka crawled on his knees over to her, placing himself over her.
Hisoka’s claws clenched themselves around her legs, indenting the soft flesh, “You have such a soft, innocent face,” he said, his face hovering over menacingly. “But I know a hungry little whore lies beneath the surface… let me feed that little whore~❤️.”
Hisoka let go of one of her legs and let it fall against the bed. Her loose leg was between his two thighs and her other leg was still being held. The top half of her body was still on the bed. Hisoka’s strength was maintained as he carried half of her body weight into the air.
He’s so strong… of course he is, that’s to be expected of a top floor fighter.
The bed let out a groan as Hisoka pushed himself onto her covered cunt, rubbing his dick between her labia majora. His cock stroked the sensitive heat over and over again, he could feel her hotness tightening and then softening as her pussy throbbed to the beat of her heartbeat. The head of his cock stroked her hard clit over and over again, the little bump riddled with sensitive nerves. Her underwear was sopping as her pussy leaked out sweet nectar. The tip of Hisoka’s cock was also leaking with precum, mixing in with her own sweetness and creating an erotic cocktail.
“Yes, don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop - I want to cum so bad. Please let me cum, please!”
Hisoka let out a breathy laugh. “If you want to cum so bad, you need to beg for it. Only good girls get to cum. Are you a good girl~?”
“Yes! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl, Hisoka!”
“Aw, you're so cute when you beg. But I don’t think you're a good girl. No, I think you're a naughty, little slut. Little sluts only get to cum when they're being fucked.”
The sensitive head of Hisoka’s cock pulsated with pleasure as he rubbed it against the soaked underwear. If he kept doing it, he was going to cum way too fast. He couldn’t let that happen. Not before he stretched her virgin pussy with his cock. He’d be damned if he let himself orgasm before biting into her innocence.
His nails dug into her thigh as he pushed himself further into her, making sure there wasn’t an inch of space between their heats. He was going to blow and If he didn’t stop, he wasn’t gonna see that shocked expression of hers when came in her for the first time. The longer he waited, the better.
(Y/N)’s pussy clenched and her breathing sped up. She was going to cum.
I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to-
Hisoka pulled back.
“No!” She yelled, kicking her leg in frustration. She let out another yell as her leg didn’t even move an inch in Hisoka’s grip. His grip was too strong. There was no way she could force her way to freedom.
“I was so close!” she shouted, a tear threatening to fall from her eyes. “Why did you stop! I felt so good!”
Hisoka threw his head back and let out a loud, sadistic laugh.
“Haha, you're so cute when you're feisty! I’m glad I’m the first who gets to fuck you.”
He let go of her leg after getting over his giggling attack. She found herself embarrassed as she blew out strings of her own hair out of her own mouth.
As she was pulling strings of hair out of her mouth, she was suddenly pulled back onto the bed by Hisoka’s hands around her hips. She gulped as she saw Hisoka’s face hovering over her crotch.
The part of her underwear that directly covered over her cunt was a darker shade than the rest of her underwear from when they grounded against each other like animals in heat.
She watched nervously as he adjusted his position. She let out a whole body shiver as both of his thumbs opened her lips like a little book.
Hisoka licked the side of her cunt - not directly stimulating her but gently teasing her. While not directly pleasuring her, the motion relaxed her from her last intense session. A little between-the-main-courses snack, if you will.
She sat up on her elbows and watched as Hisoka lapped at both sides of her lips. She felt a swell of affection begin to grow in her chest as she watched Hisoka’s cheek press itself onto the inside of her thigh. She realized how bold she’s gotten since they began to play with each other. In such a short while, Hisoka had corrupted her - denting that once-perfect surface with his perverted nature. To think ten minutes ago she was so shy she could barely even curse. In such a short time, she’d cursed more than she had in a year. A pang of guilt filled her as she thought about how her older brother would react. But he wasn’t here, and he never had to know.
In her own thoughts, she didn’t notice Hisoka’s face twist into a mischievous smile. Her eyes widened in terror as she felt his tongue on her covered asshole.
“Hisoka!” She shouted out.
How can someone be so vulgar?
“Oh, I’m sorry, my Little Slice~. I just love it when your sweet, angelic face turns into one of horror. It turn me on so badly~❤️”
Hisoka only smiled and slid his tongue upwards towards her pussy. He pushed the tip of his tongue against the entrance of her vagina and wiggled it there. If it wasn’t for her underwear, his tongue would have been inside her pussy.
The nerves around her hole were ablaze and her legs were shaking - with fear, excitement or pleasure? Perhaps all three, she did not know. All she wanted was to be pounded by him; she didn’t care how big and thick he was (from what she saw earlier, his cock had to be as thick as her forearm). Though she was unexperienced and naive to the acts of sex, this feeling was primal and indispensable. She needed it, she needed it like a runner needs water.
His tongue dragged itself from her entrance to her clit.
“Yes, yes,” she moaned out and spread her legs wider without an ounce of shame.
It was overwhelming in the best way possible. It was the most electrifying thing she’d ever experienced and she never wanted it to end. She wanted to be there forever - in that limbo of titillation and erotic reality that was unlike anything she could recreate with her imagination.
Hisoka rapidly moved his tongue against her clit. She squealed out loud and attempted to move her hips but his hands grabbed her hips and pushed them to the bed and continued to flick her covered clit with his tongue.
She lifted herself up to her elbows and looked down at him. A hint of fear aroused in her as she made direct eye contact with him. She was so caught up in her own pleasure she didn’t realize how deeply she was looking into his eyes.
As she continued to lock her eyes with his, her pussy began to relax, getting ready to tighten and cum on his tongue. Her heavy breathing paused and she caught that expression in her eyes.
Then her panties were ripped in half and her bare cunt was revealed to him. In a split second, his entire tongue was inside of her.
She screamed as her virgin cunny squeezed itself around his long, wicked tongue. Hisoka laughed out and wiggled his tongue - messaging and caressing her inner walls as she cummed.
The wetness of her aroused cunt seeped out and dripped down to her asshole, to which Hisoka slurped up and continued his assault on her cunny again. He did this over and over again until I couldn’t handle it anymore. My hands tried to push him away but he didn’t even budge. It wasn’t until my legs began to kick out in panic did he pull away.
“Ah, ah,” she panted, body completely limp. Hisoka observed her body. Her soft stomach was gleaming with sweat and the inside of her thighs were also gleaming.
“You might be the sweetest candy I’ve had since I first tried Bungee Gum all those years ago. I knew the moment I popped it into my mouth it would never leave me, marking me with its sweet syrupy taste just like a Scarlet Letter. Would it be a bold thing to say that you're just like Bungee Gum? You get so pink when you're played with. The pink on your cheeks is almost the same shade as my favorite snack.”
Hisoka let out a sudden dramatic sigh that startled (Y/N) for a second. “Unfortunately, the company who used to make Bungee Gum went bankrupt so now I have to search far and wide just to get a taste. Luckily for me, something similar is always nearby for me to stretch and pull at.”
He paused, looking directly into (Y/N)’s eyes with his own yellow ones. “You are, my sweet little slice~”
Hisoka grabbed her ankles and slapped her legs together. The loud smack of her thighs' sudden connection reverated across the room.
Hisoka wrapped his big hand over both of her ankles and grabbed his cock, stroking back the foreskin to reveal the pink, sensitive tip and a pearl of precum forming. He placed the tip of his cock on her clit, rubbing it in little circles before sliding it down her slit until it reached her entrance at the very bottom. He felt tempted to slip it into her ass before deciding it wasn’t worth the screeching. Even though he could easily cover her mouth and sodomize her tight little ass, he couldn’t just jump into completely breaking her; It would be a better idea to slowly lower her into the fire. A slow burn would be ten times more satisfying.
Putting both of my legs onto one side of his shoulders, he used his weight to push his entire cock into her pussy until his ballsack was resting against her ass.
She hissed through her teeth and threw her head back. She was filled with his cock. So full. So, so full.
She was bursting with new sensations. A new type of pain, a new type of pleasure. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt yet so primal and familiar. It was an instinct she never realized she had.
Bending over her with her legs still on her shoulder, Hisoka connected their lips for the first time that night. She could taste her own saltiness on his lips. It wasn’t the type of kiss she’d seen on romance shows (the ones her brother decided were appropriate enough to watch). No, this kiss was the complete opposite of those. This kiss was rough, unlike anything else.
She felt a burst of bravery as she slipped her tongue out and shyly lapped at his bottom lip. Hisoka let out a sardonic chuckle.
“Feeling brave now, are we?”
(Y/N) yelped as Hisoka slid his entire tongue inside her mouth, licking every corner of her mouth. Nothing was left untouched.
After completely violating her mouth with his tongue, Hisoka pulled away, smiling down at her.
“Are you ready?” He whispered. (Y/N) let out a shuddering breath and nodded. She braced herself by meekly grabbing onto the shoulder that didn’t have her legs with one hand, the other gripping onto the sheets.
Hisoka pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained in her, then he slammed into her with great strength. Her breath completely left her body with the slam of his hips. His hips smashing against her buttocks made a filthy sound that made her want to cum. The plop, plop sound that her pussy was also doing things to her.
Hisoka grunted with every hard thrust. She fit him just like a glove. It was almost like she was made for him. While the male penis did not have as many nerve endings as female genitals, a man can augment his sensations and cause it to heighten by being caressed just right. By holding her against himself, fucking her in a salacious dance, the more sensation builds up in his penis just like when a woman’s clitoris is tapped just so…
The friction of his cock pulling on her inner walls before being pushed inside once again left (Y/N) in a concoction of emotions. First, complete and utter pleasure. As he slammed his cock into her, dopamine bursted in her mind like an explosion of drugs. Second, regret. If her brother ever found out, how would he react to his own little sister getting fucked by the murderous Magician, Hisoka? She knew he’d feel like all his work to keep her safe were a waste of time and energy. Like all those years of pampering and protecting went right down the drain. She couldn’t let him find out. And thirdly, a rebellious energy. She was tired of being locked down by her own innocence. She wanted to explore the world. There had to be more to this world than just what she knew. There had to be.
From head to toe, she felt a symphony of pleasure as she came. Her toes clenched until they cramped. But she didn’t care, the pleasure outweighed the pain. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. She was sure there would be a five fingered mark there the next day. It would be a reminder of his clawed reach and her deflowering.
She screeched out as Hisoka went faster, overwhelming her. She hadn’t even gotten over her orgasm before he began to thrust into her twice as hard. She could feel his cock rub itself against the entrance of her womb.
It was primal to push into her beautiful, soft female body and pull back, only to push himself back. He could feel himself building up the height of his pleasure. The more he pumped, the higher the tower built, just ready to topple over and leave a big mess.
He looked at her closer than ever. Watching as her breast bounced and her lips glowed from their mixed saliva. He saw her eyes as she looked up at him, red from crying in complete pleasure. Her appearance increased his desire to come.
“Ahhhh,” he moaned out, feeling his orgasm in his very bones. It was a sensation he was familiar with. After defeating a powerful enemy, he sometimes glowed with the aftertaste of their fight and his victory. This was very similar - yet so different. More intimate, of course. His prey was still alive and he was still inside their body.
(Y/N) closed her eyes in bliss as Hisoka’s cum finally rested inside of her. Her breathing slowed down and the blush on her cheeks faded into softer shades of pink. The sun was coming down. Its orange tones highlighted her sweaty body like a canvas. It almost seemed like she was a freshly painted portrait. Divine Feminine tamed at last.
Both of them laid on their backs, observing the plain ceiling. It was relaxing to lay down after such an exhausting task. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and rest.
Rest, rest, rest…
My brother! His fight is over!
(Y/N) shot up from the bed, practically tripping over herself as she gathered her things - putting them on. She didn’t even notice her bra was inside-out. More shockingly, she didn’t even notice cum was dripping down her legs.
Hisoka watched amusingly from the sidelines at her scattering around the room.
(Y/N) scanned the room for one final time. She groaned as she saw her wet panties on the bed, right next to Hisoka. She jumped onto the bed and reached for her underwear. As she pulled back, Hisoka grabbed her wrist.
“Tell me, (Y/N), how would your older brother react to hearing about how I ruined his little sister's innocence? How I fucked her and she enjoyed every second of it? I bet he’d try to kill me~.”
(Y/N)’s mouth opened and closed, not a single word leaving her starstruck mouth. Her body was paralyzed with fear. She forgot who she was dealing with in her panic.
“What's the matter? You want to keep our little secret just between us two? Fine. However, come to my room tomorrow at the same time you did today and we’ll have some more fun. If not…”
She didn’t need to ask - She knew. She imagined the consequences in her mind, thinking about the outcome of her moment of weakness.
Hisoka wasn’t done with her; this was just the appetizer.
—-
“Hey, (Y/N), where were you during my fight? I didn’t see you in the crowd at all.”
“Oh, I was just getting some snacks.”
“Ah, alright. Next time just tell me beforehand. I wouldn’t want a stranger taking advantage of my little sister. Right, sis?”
“Haha, yeah…”
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evolutionsvoid · 2 years ago
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Humans aren't the only ones who have scary stories to share at night. Fear is found in all species, as well as the strange fascination with the mysterious and macabre. There is something about horror stories that draws in interest and curiosity. Some would say it stems from cautionary tales or how we warn others of dangers in the world, but not all terrifying tales have a message to spread. Indeed, we talk about the real monsters of the night, of the things waiting to prey on the unwary and naive, but what of the evils we create? What purpose are the stories made purely from imagination? Why speak of an evil that doesn't exist, and create terror of a foe who isn't real? There are many ideas and theories, but in the end it seems people of all kinds like a spooky story. One such example comes from the dryads, who speak of the legend of the Pale Rose. The origin of this particular terror comes from the house of powerful floral dryad family. While they were overflowing in riches and influence, they still felt lacking in their beauty. The house desired for the most colorful and gorgeous members to grace their family tree, so they did anything to achieve this dream. But despite every breakthrough, every poor soul abducted and used in their monstrous scheme, they always felt that it wasn't good enough. In time, their ravenous desire turned its attention towards the rose, as they thought it to be the perfect flower. Though their family tree had many beautiful members amongst its branches, not a single rose dryad could be found. While such a subspecies of dryad was incredibly rare, they decided that this error must be corrected. Efforts to find one for breeding failed, as what few rose dryads existed already belonged to esteemed families with no desire to share. So when they couldn't obtain one, they decided to make one. After all, the roses had seemingly come from common florals before, so it was a matter of research and patience to successfully create one. But while patience and resources always seem bottomless at the beginning of a quest, they can vanish surprisingly fast when failures start to arise.   Despite their efforts to find the right combination of partners and traits for breeding, no rose dryads where born. It was just failure again and again, and they were getting quite sick of it. At last, they decided to resort to unspeakable means to achieve their dream, methods so dark and foul that one not dare say them out loud! Through these wretched efforts, they at last birthed a seed that showed true promise. Once it was planted and grown, it would no doubt create a rose sapling for the family tree. No expense was spared to ensure the seed got the perfect growing conditions, and the whole family waited with bated breath for the arrival of their newest addition. When that glorious day came, and the soil shifted as the young one dug its way to the surface, the family went from sheer pride to absolute horror in moments. What emerged from the dirt was a rose dryad, but there was not a speck of color to be found on her. Her petals and rind were white as snow, absolutely worthless to a lineage that desired color and beauty. Their initial revulsion tempted them to dispose of this hideous failure, but then decided against it when they thought of the potential. They indeed had a rose dryad, and that was the hardest part of this quest. Adding or breeding in color? Well, that had to be possible. So the pale sapling was kept, with the hopes she could be used to create a real rose dryad, one with the beauty they desired. Sadly, she was no beloved member of the family, as such looks would only bring them shame. Instead she was locked away and kept far from sight, so that other families would not discover this wretched secret. The only time she saw others when they experimented on her, trying to pull the secrets of the rose from her body. Though they had thought the solution to this problem would be easy to find, her torment lasted years without an iota of success. All attempts to use her to create the perfect rose ended in failure, and she received the blame for all of it. Needless to say, her suffering at the hands of her cruel family drove her to madness, as she knew nothing else but misery and hate.   After years of being tortured and tampered with, there came a night when she escaped from her prison. There is no real say how she broke free, but it is known that she butchered her entire "family" before vanishing into the night. Quite ironic, that the member that was seen as hideous and humiliating would be the only one of the lineage to survive. The glorious tree has fallen, and the only one left alive to carry that name has disappeared without a trace. While it was an end to that horrid family, it is not the end for the tale of the Pale Rose, as she still haunts the darkness. Though she is free of that prison, she will never be free from the years of torment she faced. Her mind has been broken, and all she can think about is her cruel family and foul appearance. All that time, they wished for her to have color, to have that disgusting pallid skin covered from sight. They wanted a true rose, one with gorgeous red petals and vibrant green rind, and now that is what she wants. Perhaps if she were to gain these wonderful colors, then all this misery would end, then someone would finally love her. She needs those colors, but simple paint will not do. Her broken mind believes it has found the answer to this torment, of how she can at last be beautiful. So now she haunts the night in search of it....
The Pale Rose goes after those who walk the dark roads at night, always targeting those who are alone. She hides in the brush and shadows, waiting for her prey to wander by. When she spots a victim, she will burst from the bushes and block their path. Her appearance varies from story to story, with some having her as a mangled monstrous being with a clawed hand, and others having her as a simple white rose dryad carrying a wicked knife. When face-to-face with them, she will ask them in a crazed cackle, "Green juice or red juice?" The victim must answer her quickly as she is an impatient one. Unfortunately, picking either of these options results in death, as the "juice" in question is sap or blood. The "green juice" comes from dryads, who she carves up and uses their sap to paint her rind green. Humans and other fleshy beings have "red juice," and their blood bathes her petals to give them a wonderful crimson. Her question is asking the victim what color "juice" they have, as she wants green and red to paint her pallid body. Unfortunately, this leads to a lethal encounter, with both options being death. Even if a human says "green" or a dryad says "red," she will cut them open to get the juice and see the lie. Even then, blood and sap is wanted, no matter the lie, so she will just shrug her shoulders and continue to carve up her victim. Refusing to answer this question or attempting to flee will not save you, as she will just chase you down and slash you to ribbons.
While encountering the Pale Rose may seem like a death sentence, there is a way to escape her blade. This is shown in a tale of a dryad painter who was walking a lonely forest path late at night. Circumstances had led to her being out there at such a time, as she usually was not one who liked to travel in the dark. Regardless, she found herself alone and desperately trying to get home when the Pale Rose struck. She rushed from the forest and cut off her path. "Green juice or red juice?" she asked the dryad, her deadly blade at the ready. The poor painter was terrified, as she had heard of the tales before and knew what became of those who answered with either choice. In desperation, she blurted out: "Blue!" This answer startled the Pale Rose, and her confusion was clear to see. A creature with blue juice? Impossible! So the Pale Rose said, "Blue juice!? Let me see!" She began to approach with her blade, ready to slice open the painter and see what color juice they truly had. The dryad moved fast as the Pale Rose came forth, reaching into her bag and fishing out a small jar of paint. She turned her body to hide her actions, as she got a dab of blue paint on her thumb. She then turned back to the Pale Rose and presented her arm. She made a cutting motion with her hand, leaving a streak of blue on her rind. To the Pale Rose, it looked as if she was bleeding blue juice! She let out a disappointed snarl as she saw this blue juice, as it was not the color she desired. All she said was "No! No blue juice!" and she vanished back into the forest. The painter was left alive and well, and she hurried back to her home. So as the story tells, the only way to save yourself from the Pale Rose is to answer with a different color than red or green. However, once you say a different color, you must be quick to "prove" it, as she will want to see for herself. Take too long, and she will cut you herself to see what juice you have, and she will clearly see that you were lying. One must act like they are slicing themselves and present that color leaking from this fake wound. Do so, and she will grumpily leave you be, annoyed to have found a useless victim with the wrong color juice.       The story is a popular one when dryads are hanging around at night and in need of a spooky tale. Many saplings know of it, either from friends telling it at night for a scare or from parents trying to keep them from going out into the dark alone. Recently, there have been folk who have argued against telling this tale, as they believe the message is not just about staying safe at night. They argue that it is very clear that this story is riding on the fear of pale dryads, like the bloodies and amanitas. This story further demonizes these groups, who have already been associated with horrid diseases and parasitic beasts. Such a thing is not appropriate to teach to the young, as all it will do is instill a fear of those folk. Despite their complaints and efforts, it is unlikely that this story will die out, as a horror story forbidden by the "grown ups" only makes saplings more interested in its spooky contents.   --------------------------------------------------------
“The Pale Rose”
Time for a scary story! Other species have their spooky tales and legends of horrid creatures of the night, so here is one of them!
Also realizing that I wanted to post a bunch of stuff this month and said month is quickly coming to an end, so I am throwing in what I can!
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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago
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Hello! I don’t know if you’re still doing this prompt but how about the Oxygen Loss but with either Rung or Ratchet? I’m not sure how you would do Ratchet, maybe he’s away from the Med Bay at the time the LL is being attacked?
I've got some of my favorite bot Rung for you, and Ratchet is in part five listed below! Let's have some angst with the good phsychiatrist!
Part One: Here!
Part Two: Here!
Part Three: Here!
Part Four: Here!
Part Five: Here!
Part Six: Here!
Part Seven: Here!
Part Eight: Here!
Part Nine: Here!
Part Ten: You're Here!
Part Eleven: Here!
Part Twelve: Here!
Rung
·Perhaps being human just made one think differently from Cybertronians in the most unusual of ways, but you truly never understood how anyone could forget the lovable phsychiatrist, though you have quite a few unique reasons to remember him. While he's actually rather sociable and energetic, the two of you most often enjoy relaxing together in his office. Today you're doing just that by chatting away about the various pieces of earth media you think he'll enjoy. Whether or not he actually ends up having interest in any of them, he takes great pleasure in discussing your suggestions. Not only does it give him a better glimpse into earth and the culture of its inhabitants, but it also allows him to hear about your own tastes in entertainment, and that alone could keep his interest for days. Just hearing you talk about yourself so happily is a delight.
·Unfortunately the fun times are interrupted by an emergency broadcast, one the two of you are equally baffled to find is little more than a garble of indecipherable warnings and instructions. Before any kind of explanation can be requested, the line goes off completely, fading out to silence that doesn't even register static. Having served on many ships in the past, Rung has theories straight away as to what could be going on, and they vary from trivial to concerning. For this though, he wants to err on the side of caution. That means getting somewhere safe. If something is indeed wrong, he explains, help can always be found in a number of key locations. Considering where his room is, he knows the closest safe place is the medical bay.
·Wanting to be wary but not panicked, Rung admittedly struggles over whether or not to get moving. Though he doesn't say why, you know one of his biggest fears is being unable to protect you, something he worries he can't do being adverse to combat. A small smile of encouragement naturally lights up your features as you lay a hand on his. You promise him you trust his judgement no matter what. A look of gratitude is knocked off his face when his whole office trembles, and it's replaced entirely with a look of terror as the ship gives a mighty buck, sending your tiny body flying. An athletic dive saves you from crashing into anything, and instead you find yourself held in a pair of trembling hands when the world levels out. On his knees and quite frazzled from the jolt, the first thing Rung does is ask if you're okay, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you confirm you are.
·The incident gives him the impetus to make up his mind; the two of you are going to head for more secure territory. In agreement despite being so frazzled, you let him take the lead and try to convey just how grateful you are to have him at your side for all of this, holding onto his digits as he prepares to get moving. There's so much obvious planning in the processor behind his furrowed brows you can practically hear the metaphorical wheels turning. He wants to be ready for any possibility, so much so that he grabs his rarely used combat staff from the corner. Despite the circumstances, your heart actually flutters a little; to you he's always looked quite dashing wielding the weapon.
·There's silence when he enters the hallway at last, and it drives him to hug you to his chest in a move that comforts himself just as much as he hopes it comforts you. It certainly helps you feel secure, as the move puts you right beside his spark, one that leaves no doubt as to its status as brightest on the ship. A soft and melodic humming seems to pass straight through his chestplate at all times. Pressing against him, you let the sound soothe the tension from your much smaller body. Even if you can hardly protect him from much of anything, you hope he feels a bit safer in your company, though he's hardly struggling to move boldly through the ship. From a distance one might have even missed the light tremble in his frame.
·Scared as he might be, he's faced situations similar to this before, and came out with the knowledge that it's best to move as he is now; quickly, but quietly, so as to avoid being taken by surprise. However, he had the aid of his natural resilience to get him through past situations alive. Incredible healing abilities have always been a literal life saver, but now, the fact that only he would be saved... The thought of recovery is just as agonizing as any wound when he thinks of you not being there when the physical pain faded. Fear of such an outcome makes him freeze when the first sound of movement meets his audials; there's something rather large nearby, and it isn't an Autobot. Nor is it a Decepticon, further inspection tells him when he listens intently, as he can hear how unnaturally it moves even from his makeshift hiding spot. It has to be one of the attacking forces.
·Rung looks down as you hold your breath, having heard the same sound and doing your best to make sure the alien doesn't find either of you. For an instant you're both left frozen and the air is tense enough to feel as if it's smothering you. Scouting the situation as best he can, the small mech takes note of the fact he only has one usable path to the medical bay from this position, as any other course would require a great deal of backtracking there simply isn't time for. The only viable way forward is this one, and as there's only a single enemy... Looking down at you one final time let's him make a decision. This has to be done, for your sake, and he quickly sets you down in an open yet depowered electrical hatch, one likely left this way by a bot abandoning it in the midst of some maintenance. Hopefully it will keep you safe...
·You know what he's doing when Rung whispers for you to stay down and make a run for it should things "end poorly", but you don't even get a chance to try and stop him, the fear in his optics all but breaking your heart as he disappears from view. Alone in the hatch, a million thoughts storm in an attempt to form a plan. Being so tiny leaves you very few options... Yet a forgotten tool, some kind of Cybertronian screwdriver, opens up a slew of dangerous possibilities. What you assume to be adrenaline fills you so fast you get dizzy, but you don't let that stop you as the makeshift weapon is clenched between your shaking hands. Unbeknownst to you, Rung executes his first attack at the same instant, finishing off an impressive ambush with a ferocious stab intended to end a fight before it can begin.
·Rung isn't surprised when his attack merely staggers his opponent; just dissapointed as the brute turns to retaliate. Bloodied weapon in hand, he simply doesn't have the reflexes to avoid the hit that comes next, though he does manage to land a small puncture wound as a powerful blow slams him against a wall. As he is pinned by the overwhelming weight of a much larger being, he can only think about you... The weapon is immobile in his hand, as useless as he knows he is, and he prays this commotion will at least enable you to escape. Pressure hard enough to crack his armor suspends any thoughts beyond pain as the alien goes in for the kill. Only, it's interrupted by a very unexpected attack at the base of one of its legs, one that staggers it as something tiny and very sharp is stabbed as deep as it can go... by you.
·There's no time to celebrate before a reflexive kick sends you sprawling, your tiny body rolling across the ground from a mere glancing blow. Between the window of opportunity and the glaring rage on your behalf, it's all Rung needs to turn the tide of battle. Though he's sloppy from anger and pain, his staff finds a weak point and the bladed end sinks deep, sending the gargantuan being toppling like a gigantic tree. Before the thud has finished echoing Rung is by your side, kneeling on a visibly damaged leg to look you over. Despite the strength of what hit you, there's something off in how bleary you are as his face spins above you, as if the world is slipping away. Your injured partner can see it too. In fact, anyone could see you're struggling just to breathe, and that sends a chill through his spark. Whether or not this level of incoherencey makes any sense for your manner of injury, he doesn't have time to ask questions, needing to get you somewhere safe instead. All he takes the time for is to plead that you remain awake.
·Before he can damage his leg further by attempting to struggle into a standing position, luck arrives in the form of a squadron of armed bots, who heard the sound of combat and came to investigate. The sight of the ship's tiny phsychiatrist and the hulking alien he obviously killed makes most of their jaws drop. In a rare loss of composure, Rung begs them to take you to the medical bay as fast as possible, tears hidden only by his lenses. Slipping out of consciousness while you're lifted by dexterous hands, you can only be glad he'll be okay, and that despite your tiny size you made a difference... A quick thinking bot heeds the instructions and carts you off for treatment. Rung can only pray help will be given in time, and as he's helped along after you the bitter sense of failure hurts worse than any injury; how could he be so worthless as to let you down in this of all moments?
·The feeling is not at all relieved when he arrives for care of his own and is told that you'll live, only because the true cause of your sudden deterioration strikes him hard. You were suffocating, tiny organic body failing from a lack of critical resources, and yet you'd been forced to save him. Did this mean he had hurt you more than anything else today, because he'd been unable to handle himself, making you waste precious oxygen and energy? As soon as he's patched up he requests to stay alone by your side, which is rather difficult due to how many bots want to praise his efforts in taking down an enemy. Their intentions are at least appreciated. Yet he's left to agonize as he waits for you to stir, removing his glasses so he can hold his head in his hands while the emotions overwhelm him.
·Upon waking, it's hard to ignore the fact that most of your body hurts in one way or another, particularly in a few stretches of your arms and legs where bruises will no doubt be blossoming soon. Yet the mask on your face is what really gives you pause, especially as you open your eyes to see the interior of a medical bay suite. A familiar dash of copper catches your attention before you can think too hard. Rung is just beside you, yet you can't tell if he's awake or powered down by the way his helm is leaning so heavily against his palm. The question is answered as soon as you stir, and his usually bright optics snap open to reveal an exhausted grey. Despite the visible anguish, he smiles as soon as he sees you, reaching forward to brush your cheek as he softly says your name. Static blurs his voice into an uncharacteristic croak.
·A tad bit accustomed to worried minds in confusing situations, he gently relays what led to you being here, trying to remain neutral but slipping in a bit of self admonishment as he gets to his failed defensive effort. The memories flood back despite the injuries you suffered and the lack of oxygen in the moment. A far different scene comes back in your mind's eye, one of a mech valiantly charging into a fight just to give you a chance at escape, and you take hold of his digit despite the pain of moving your arm. When he tries to stop the action you cut him off gently, saying that he's not just the reason you're alive, he was the source of your own burst of courage that resulted in you saving his life. Your love for each other is why you're both here to live another day.
·The devotion in your words takes him by total surprise. For all the adoration he has for you, he's not even accustomed to being remembered by anyone, let alone treasured. Honest as can be, he can only silently wipe away a few happy tears as he requests you forgive him for the self imposed criticism. Smiling back, you promise to do so, and to always help him remember that he's worth all the love you have for him. With tenderness only he could possess, Rung leans down to leave a soft kiss on the side of your head in silent thanks. There simply aren't words for the happiness you give him even in the hardest times...
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riverdale-retread · 3 years ago
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Riverdale S5 E13 (Coyote Ugly)- 5 Things I loved/ 3 Things to consider
I loved a LOT of things about this episode, so I might have to cheat on my loved-it count. Indulge me, please. 
Things I loved
1. I loved that Tabitha totally belongs and fits in with these crazy OG Riverdale people.  Tabitha asks Betty, the crazy girl, to not “do anything crazy,” while doing crazy things with Betty, herself.   Why Tabitha does this, we don’t know yet, but she absolutely belongs with these people.  For fancy-school-educated beautiful Tabitha, with her neat puff sleeves and delicate frame, to go all in with Betty Cooper, fake FBI agent, trying to hunt down a serial killer is insanity.  To agree to open up her business premises and offer up her own body as bait for this known serial killer is insanity. To be aware that Betty has caught someone who was acting violent, but to go alone, and also unarmed and apparently without having told anyone, is insanity.  Tabitha is very, very interesting.  Oh and she drives the most amazing car.
2. “Reggie, You’re A Genius!!” and Veronica is not being even a little bit sarcastic.  Reggie Mantle’s air punches every time either he or Veronica close a sale really just cheered me up no end. He’s just so exuberant and physical.  He’s already stated that he is good with numbers and he has a lot of ideas and he’s finally, at Pearls & Posh, getting a chance to let those parts of himself bloom. I loved the beautiful jewel tones that Reggie and Veronica wear throughout the episode, and the way they become ever more color coordinated.  I just love the two of them teaming up and dismantling Hiram’s scam one brick at a time.
3. All the Cheryl things, basically, I loved them. 
-“Compulsion Thy Name is Kevin of Finland” is a line that had me hooting.    And the fact that Kevin, in the right clothes, totally has the body and jawline to be a Tom of Finland illustration is just icing on the cake. Cheryl has been keeping a very close eye on Kevin his whole life, honestly, like a dangerous sort of fairy godmother. Cheryl in a checked version of her little red riding hood outfit walking out of the misty blue forest!  What a beautiful shot. 
- I did not love Tabitha having to say,  “Hot Ladies, dancing on the bar, fully clothed, of course,” but I *did* love Fang’s groaning in response, just so put upon. I did this simultaneously with the character, so I appreciated that.  I did love the glorious amount of cleavage that Cheryl the minister and cheerleading coach insists on putting on display while IN a high school.  Her sartorial choices felt like a vengeful commentary on the mores of American television.  I would much prefer to see tits on my TV than blood & violence, so the fact that an entire severed leg, a ghost of Christmas past with bullet wounds, and a man getting his face smashed in by a furious fit young man armed with brass knuckles can be shown in full but hot ladies dancing on a bar must be fully clothed irritated me. 
So yes - I said a whole bunch of words to fancy up the statement that I loved seeing Cheryl’s cleavage.
Sidebar: Also why does it gotta be only ladies?  I think Fangs was fishing for an invitation.
- “I caught them (Moose & Fangs) having wine & cheese” - “Ew that is diabolical.” OK so when you’re in that mindset where you want to ‘win’ the break up but you’ve lost, this sort of hyperbolic reaction is exactly what you want from your female friends, and Cheryl doubles down with, “You did nothing wrong.”   Why has Kevin never declared best friendship with Cheryl? 
4. I loved that  the show gives me permission to do what I’ve been doing already, which is that I absolutely despise Uncle Fucking Frank.  That asshole, who claims to understand battle trauma and love dogs, brings home a traumatized dog which deserves to have stable people look after it and be aware of its issues, and doesn’t tell his housemates who aren’t even getting basic mental healthcare, one of which is a nephew he is mooching from for room & board, about the dog’s potential problems.  Absolute failure garbage human, and I am elated to have this affirmed.  Everything Frank does makes Archie so much worse, and Archie does not trust Frank fully either.  Loved this too.  Archie lies to Uncle Fucking Frank about ‘Bingo.’ He was a dog, he says, and then says that Eric does not like to talk about the dog so Frank won’t go mentioning him to Eric.
5. I loved the musical numbers, each for a different reason.
- Coyote Ugly Bar Top Dance:  These terrifying, formerly terrorized children of Riverdale thrill me and break my heart.  Everyone just tosses themselves at danger.   Cheryl, Veronica, and Betty are all women who’ve had the experience of being hunted, terrorized, gaslit, stalked, sexually assaulted, having to fight for their lives while under attack from a much bigger assailant, etc  - just *all* the bad things, really - but with the promise of a good time (lyrics actually say: How Can I Resist?) they will make themselves live bait for a serial killer. 
- Everything Is All Right from Jesus Christ Superstar. I love Kevin’s singing, always.  I also adored Penelope Blossom hating the musical interlude, she’s great.  This song is also meant to be ironic, in the show, from my memory, because in context things are NOT all right. Mary Magdalene was wrong.  They’re showing Kevin and Fangs making up, they’re showing Veronica and Reggie making a sale, Jughead was not in this episode at all, so this was quite arresting from a show perspective.  The song is disquieting, with minor key elements, and so it’s a little uneasy, you know?  Things are not all right, at all. 
3 Things to Consider
a) “This award is a painful reminder of all that I haven’t accomplished.”  Kevin breaks my heart but not in a campy tingly way.  The feeling that I’m supposed to be somewhere better than this, doing something more than this - it’s so painful and real. I’m you, Kevin.  “This can’t be my life, it just can’t be.”  This seems to be the theme of the post time-jump Riverdale, but it feels more visceral because of what’s happening in the real world on the date of airing (Fall of 2021).
b) Bingo being a person, not a dog, puts an entirely different and devastating cast over the dream-dialogue between Eric and Archie.  According to Archie’s subconscious, Eric is basically saying, “Leave the other man for dead, and save me and only me.”  In the football field dream,  Eric was transformed into Jughead, who just needed a little help, and had to be fireman-carried to touchdown.  Eric insisting that he be prioritized over the unfortunate Bingo goes some ways to explaining the bond between Eric and Archie as well. 
c) Archie Andrews is terrifying, and this adult Archie is fascinating and arresting to me. “I don’t want this scumbag arrested! I want him hurt” is the most honest thing Archie has ever said on the show.  And when he says, “I’m trying to save this town, but it’s so corrupt,  broken, full of awful, despicable people.  I think there’s nothing worth saving here,”  Archie is very reminiscent of the Dark Hood/ Hal Cooper, actually.  Archie scares the worthless Uncle Fucking Frank so much that U.F. Frank can’t even say, “Nobody asked you to save the world, Archie, just save yourself.”
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moonlightflower21 · 4 years ago
Text
ease my mind
a/n: angst. mentions of death. stabbings. all that good stuff. also includes mafia turtles. might not make sense but people wanted to read it so 🤷‍♀️😂
but anyway, as calm and collected and stoic leo can be, he has his weak points. he isn't immune to panic attacks or bad thoughts. enjoy!
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How could this have happened? His world felt like it had crumbled to the very ground, turned into dust and flown mockingly into the air. Reminding how useless he truly was.
Leonardo watched his brothers follow inside the living room, Raph grabbing an ice pack to cool the knife cut bleeding out on his bicep. Mikey winced as he got rid of his waistcoat, untying his tie and letting it hang limply. His shirt was stained more in red than white, indicating his wound was deeper than he originally thought. Yet none of them spoke a word, barely even glancing in the leaders direction.
Leonardo looked at his team, most specifically Raphael. He had been quiet which had certainly been unlike him. Raph was never one to show how angry he was, always giving his opinion regardless of the topic so the silence coming from him was deafening.
"You good?" Leo's voice was slightly shaky not used to his hot headed brother being so silent about the obvious fail they just encountered.
Dark amber eyes connected with his and Leo didn't need to be a genius to know there was fury brewing behind those honeyed irises. Taking a breath in, he opened his mouth to say something but he noticed something else swirling into those eyes. Defeat.
"I'm sorry about.... You know I had-" "Fuck ya. That's.... all I gotta say ta ya. Yer really got some nerve ta put this on someone else. Get one thing straight, we're not indestructible. Not me or ya or Don or Mikey. But why am I wastin my breath on ya? Whatever I tell ya, yer just gonna go ahead and do the opposite. Like yer always do. And I'm gonna be the one ta help ya when yer run in ta issues. Like I always do" Raphael sneered, his hands in tight fists to control his temper. His tone was accusing, malicious towards Leo. And no one cane blame him.
"I'm not gonna bother waiting my time or energy bein' here. I can't do this no more" His harsh voice dropped to a whisper at the last sentence and he's not sure whether it's directed to his brother or to himself. He wanted to say something but nothing would be able to console how he's feeling tonight. Raph clenched his arm tightly, placing pressure in the damaged skin before pushing past his brother and to his own private room.
"Wait!" But the terrapin had left. Turning back to the rest of his team, Leo hoped he could explain what had happened. But their looks were cold and heartless.
Mikey stood tall, his stare in a hardened frown. He let out a small grunt, plastron burning with pain on his ride side.
"Look I'm-" "I've always stood by your decisions, always respected your commands and orders. But tonight was a fucking shit show and had you not lost focus, those innocent lives wouldn't have been taken. Some leader you are" Mikey scoffed, hands tingling with urges to beat the living shit out of someone. Leonardo stood, his brain unable to form comprehensible sentences to his answer. Was that how he truly felt?
"Mikey..." "Don't 'Mikey' me Leonardo. You were right after all. We may be brothers but we are not a team. Thank you for opening my eyes to that tonight" He snarled, a shaky breath as he applied too much pressure to his plastron. He swallowed hard, mind overflowing with poisonous thoughts suffocating his mind. Begging to be in a safe place but he couldn't find any. He didn't think he could ever feel safe anywhere. Not with his brothers or his family.
"Leave me alone. I have nothing to speak to you about, nor do I want to see your face tonight" Mikey uttered sharply, refusing to show any pain despite actively bleeding. He left in the other direction, retiring to his own personal chambers for the night. Leonardo gritted his teeth, trying to hold himself together. Trying to hold his composture together but it was dangerously close to crashing down. Maybe Donatello would listen. He was always good at reading people. Hopefully he could lend an ear before Leo's thoughts drive him insane.
"Don-" "I don't know what you wish to hear Leonardo. Me to say that it went good? That everything went well?? Raph nearly lost an arm, Mikey only has a new painful scar to his collection. You know how bad his plastron is damaged?? There's only so much that can be done to help it. And as for myself... well I'll let it speak for itself" Donnie lifted the side of his shirt, emitting a soft gasp from the eldest in absolute horror.
The wound was weeping, blood trickling down his abdomen soaking the rim of his pants. Leo's heart fell to the ground, his teeth sinking in his bottom lip to stop any vulnerability coming to light. Only know has it registered how much danger he had selfishly placed all his brothers in.
"But none of this matters to you does it? We're just soldiers to command, to help-" "That's not true Donatello!" Leo's voice came as a hoarse whisper, clenching his fingers tightly. Had his brother looked close enough, he would have seen Leonardo teetering off the edge of his sanity. The tremble in his body, the shaking of his arms despite how strong he stood, his eyes turning a deep blue emotionally overwhelmed.
"Isn't it?? Because the way I see it, you seem to have completely placed us at the sidelines. What happened to family? What happened to looking out for each other? What happened to your honour Leonardo?? These words you held with great pride are nothing but a jumbled mess of letters at your feet. If you cannot practise what you preach then I highly recommend you stop pretending otherwise. Excuse me, some of us have to help his family" Donatello frowned, walking past the blue cladded turtle to help his injured family members.
Leonardo's breath hitched, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and spilling down quietly his cheeks. Honour, justice, family.... these words were for heros. Words for people that helped their country, he didn't do any of those things. He was a villain, killing himself slowly with his actions.
Moments like these reminded of his haunted childhood, how Splinter berating him for being worthless, how he would never accumulate to anything. Tonight those very words repeated like a record in his brain, unable to pause or freeze and he sat there listening to it all. Because it was true. He wasn't some warrior or a soldier, he was a mistake. And those horrible words ring in his head like an alarm, he didn't deserve to live.
Leo made questionable decisions tonight but his brothers didn't know how much burden he carried on his shoulders. He wouldn't forget those who passed tonight nor did he forget the injuries inflicted on his brother because of him. Was this how he wanted his life to be? Was this worth the pain and failures? And no matter how much those humans had wronged him, he swore to never turn like Splinter had done. Though now he could see himself follow in those very footsteps, heart twisted with evil and brutal thoughts.
They all lay heavy on his mind, constantly mocking and torturing of him of the leadership he once held with great importance and dedication. But now it started to disintegrate, proving his worst fear true that he was simply unable to protect his loved ones. That he couldn't even help himself. He could feel himself spiralling out of control and its times like these, he wished someone would hold him tight Ground him to reality, pushing those thoughts out of his body instead of laying low waiting to strike at his most weakest.
There he sat, sinking further and further into the pit of depair and self-hatred wondering if anyone could ever rescue him from this prison.
Wondering if he ever deserved to feel any happiness.
Wondering if he was better off being alone.
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tothemeadow · 4 years ago
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Commissioned by @azurenocturne​
Douma x Reader
- After your friend disappears while investigating the Eternal Paradise, you decide to follow after her. Little do you know, but the leader of the cult, Upper Moon Two, is as beautiful as he is conniving... - 
warnings: mentions of death, blood, and gore
words: 2.1k
-
Birds of a feather flock together, but not this time. She’s walking on an unfolded road in a distant dream, long gone, almost forgotten. Sometimes, her laughter rings in your ears. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you can see that very day, cloaked with white and the chill of winter.
It’s because of her that you’re the person you are today.
Seasons have passed, as have many moons; day by day, you wait for your crow to bring you an ounce of good news, but to no avail. Months have gone by, and yet your friend has still not uttered a single word.
You’re confident in her skills, of course. She’s a tough fighter, practically too stubborn to die, but paranoia follows you around, wraps around you tightly during the night’s long hours. You figure it must be because of the façade she must put up – to be captured means death.
The lead she told you about was strong, and she was more than determined to follow it to its ends and meet the leader for herself. The Eternal Paradise, as she explained, where Upper Moon Two leads blind followers to their deaths. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?
From your understanding, some demon sat on a pile of corpses and bones with an entourage of mindless sheep waiting for slaughter. It is disgusting, down to the tiniest detail. You encouraged your friend to take down such a damned blood-thirsty creature, but you sent her off with plenty of warnings in your stead. If anything looked to shady or dangerous to deal with, you begged her to make her return home. She didn’t deserve to die in a place like that, not to people like those.
You wish you were naïve. You wish you could tell yourself that it would be okay, that your friend will come back to you safe and sound someday, but that’s not the case. Your gut told you otherwise, warned you of the truth. She was in danger and needed help, whether she liked it or not. You had to follow down that same road, seemingly disappear and become one with this so-called “organization.”
She was going to come home.
-
“You’ll like it here, sister,” Hanako says, voice devoid of all emotion. Hanako was appointed as your ”guide,” told to show you around the mansion, provide the ins and outs of how the cult worked. Unlike the others straggling in the halls, her expression is plain and lifeless. With hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, you wondered what hell she must’ve been through to find herself living in the halls of the Eternal Paradise.
As you pass the others, they turn to you with way too pleasant smiles, their eyes squinting to the point where it looks painful. There’s no way that they’re that happy to be here, right…? Surely, they’d have to notice how some of their fellow followers randomly disappear from time to time. It’s possible that their demon leader manipulates them to forget, or straight out threatens them to keep silent…
“You’ll be staying in here,” Hanako says, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a room. The room itself is on the smaller side, nearly devoid of any furniture besides a rolled-up futon sitting to the side. “This is where I reside,” Hanako continues. “There used to be another, but then they decided to leave.” Stepping inside, Hanako unceremoniously drops the spare futon and pillow she was holding onto the floor.        
The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight at her ominous words. “Uh, what do you mean, they left? I thought anybody who became part of the… Eternal Paradise would never want to leave?” Saying the words leaves a nasty taste in your mouth; you’re a slayer, for gods’ sakes. You shouldn’t even be here, but you’re determined to find your friend. It’s partially your fault that she came here all by herself; you should’ve tagged along, made sure she wasn’t alone when going up against a cult.
Hanako blinks at you, her eyes a cold, empty shell. “They died.”
What?
“Everyone lives, everyone dies. That’s life, after all,” Hanako says. “They left before they passed. To die in this sacred place… It’s repulsive. Our lord doesn’t deserve such disrespect. Imagine if I woke up to a corpse and had to tell our lord? He’d punish me for not dealing with it.”
Swallowing thickly, you turn away. If Hanako was afraid of telling the demon that somebody died – that in itself raises an alarm, jeez – then what were they even like? Cruel and ruthless, obviously; why so followers, then? Don’t they know who they’re even dealing with?
“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a new voice says.
Hanako squeaks, then, whirling around to the door and snapping over in a deep bow. “Fool,” she hisses at you, “what do you think you’re doing? Show some respect!”
Glancing towards the door, your entire mouth goes dry in an instant. A large, muscular man almost completely fills the doorway, his wide shoulders nearly spanning the entire length of the opening. He’s beautiful, simply put; birch hair, multicolored eyes, a face carved by the gods. The man’s entire being oozes with power and intensity, yet his enticing scent is tinged with blood. So, this is the leader, Upper Moon Two, it seems. After another moment’s hesitation, you follow after Hanako and bend at the waist.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Hanako stammers. Rather than her monotonous tone before, she addresses her leader with the outmost respect. “The newcomer obviously needs to learn the proper mannerisms.”
The demon giggles. Shivers run down your spine; he isn’t like any other demon you’ve encountered, not by a longshot. The room becomes even more cramped as he steps in, his large body mere steps away from you. “Stand, my darlings,” he purrs.
Hanako shoots upright, her usual blank expression twisted into a pleased grin. Wringing her hands before her, she rocks back and forth on her heels, seemingly having a bit of trouble holding back her excitement. Like her, you stand straight, but you take the chance to truly analyze the man before you.
True, while he is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, you’re all too aware of what he really is, what he really does. Cocking his head, his long hair sweeps over his shoulder, frames his attractive face. He flashes you a knowing smile. Heart dropping to your stomach, you wonder if he knows who you are, just like you know who he is.    
“I don’t think that will be much of an issue,” he continues. Offering his hand to you, he silently urges you to take it. “Welcome to the Eternal Paradise,” he purrs, “My name is Douma.”
-
You’re a fool. A total, complete fool.
How… how could you be so stupid? After all this time, after all the effort into finding your friend… You should have never come. That bastard stole your heart even though you knew it was wrong, terribly so, and yet you did it anyway. Despite knowing Douma is a demon and that he kills people for the fun of it, you fell for him. Hell, you should slit your own stomach for pulling such a move.
He played you this entire time, pulling at your heartstrings and treating you with utmost kindness. You let love get in the way of your mission, cloud your thoughts; for a short while, you believed that maybe things would turn out okay, that you would somehow have a happy ending to the story you call life.
But no, that isn’t how things work. Karma, that bloodthirsty queen, always gets what she wants.
You’re not sure what’s worse – the slurping of blood or the smell of it. No, scratch that; it’s the look in Douma’s eyes, the surge of power and unadulterated hunger. Violent rivers stream from your eyes, ungracefully drip from your chin and onto the wooden planks below. That’s your friend he’s eating, her blood that he drinks.    
“I’ve always preferred female flesh, female blood…” Douma begins, tongue flicking out over his lips. His fangs gleam ruby as he flashes you a smile. “They’re so sweet, so wonderfully soft… How do you do it, love? How is your kind so delicious?”
“Don’t you dare call me that!” you growl. “You don’t have the bloody right to.”
Placing a bloody hand to his chest, Douma has the audacity to look offended. “That’s not what you said last night.” The corners of his mouth curl salaciously, a dark giggle spilling from his lips. “If I recall correctly, you were begging for more, my little slayer.”
That makes it even worse. Cursing yourself internally, your grip on your blade tightens. There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore; Douma knew exactly who you were from the get-go. Both yours and your friend’s missions were complete and utter failures. You’ve entered a damned slaughterhouse, for gods’ sakes. You should’ve seen this coming, but your feelings got in the way.
“You never loved me, you twat,” you spit.
Douma cocks his head, drops your friend’s severed hand. “No, no, no,” he begins, drawing himself to his monstrous height, “that’s where you’re wrong. The truth is, well, I’ve never loved anyone!” He breaks into a malicious cackle, then, his whole face twisting with mirth. “And to think you fell in love with me! I’ll admit, I liked you better than the others, but loved? Don’t flatter yourself, dear. Nobody could ever love you, especially not me.”
“I’ll pin your fucking head to a spike and watch you burn.”
Through your torrent of tears, you spring at him, an animalistic growl ripping itself from your throat. Despite the grotesque, bloodcurdling rage surging through your veins, you have to remind yourself to breathe. People used to tell you all the time that you’re worthless, weak, and that you should give up on becoming a proper slayer. At the time, you’ve become so angry that they were right; being a Breath of Water user, you could never get the technique correct. You envied others (mostly Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Pillar) for their abilities.
If it weren’t for your friend taking you to that viewing on that magical winter’s day, you would have never grown. No, you weren’t a Breath of Water user anymore; you honed your skills into something new, something wonderful. Breath of Ice is something to behold in itself, albeit relatively new. You’re proud of your graceful, fluid movements, but that nagging voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s pointless, just like what everyone else said before.
You didn’t want to do this, swirling around in a furious blizzard of snow and ice, floating and skirting around your friend’s remains. Douma follows through with each attack, nimbly dodging your blade, your range of attacks. In time, your body is covering with miniscule cuts, barely thicker than a hair, but the sheer amount of blood pouring from them is obscure. How much you’ve lost, you don’t know, but seeing crimson decorate the floor and Douma’s metallic fans tells more than you want to know.
It’s no good; he’s too strong, too fast, and he seems to know every single move you plan to make. Your face is wet with blood and tears, your vision blurring, snot running from your nose. A punched-out groan bursts from your chest as you’re knocked to the side, back colliding with the wall. You collapse to the ground with an unceremonious thump.
Gasping for breath, you scramble for your blade, fingernails digging into the wood in your desperation. A foot comes down on your hand, then, making you cry out in pain.
“I really thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Douma sneers. Dropping to his knee, he leans down over you, his hair curtaining his face. “Trying to take on an Upper Moon with an underdeveloped breathing technique… You’re so stupid!” With another cackle, he presses the tip of a fan to your throat. “You came all this way to save your little friend, and now look where you are! She’s dead! Funny how that works…”
“I’ll kill you, you lying bastard,” you wheeze.
“Love, you aren’t really in the position to say such things,” Douma says, his voice suddenly turning softer. It’s the same tone he used during the lovelier moments, the moments where he held you close and stroked your naked body. “I’ll let you stay with me forever, though. You’d make such a great decoration!”
“Douma, no-“
Splat.
89 notes · View notes
a-student-out-of-time · 4 years ago
Note
Final Round: FIGHT
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Hey, Storm! C’mon! Come get me!
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*The robot chases Kana as she runs into another large room*
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*She stops in the middle of the room and nods*
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BREAK!
*She shoots the robot in the back*
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*The whole thing shudders violently, then twists around to face her*
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Maverick’s voice: What the hell is that?!
*The robot punches into the ceiling and walls, trying to bring debris down on the girls*
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*Both of them manage to dodge, then take cover behind some of the larger chunks*
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Haah, haah...Seems like it’s working.
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What do you think does more damage? The eye or the exhaust vents?
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Seems like it stumbled more after the latter.
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I don’t know if this is the best idea...but maybe we should switch?
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Switch? Like, get him to come after one, then the other shoots?
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I know it’s dangerous, but...
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Yeah. But I think it might work.
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Besides, your luck’ll keep us safe.
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Yeah. Thanks for being my co-op.
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You got it!
______________________________________________________
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*The robot scans the shattering, burning room*
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!!!
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C’mon, Storm! You brought me here so you could kill me! Why don’t you give it a shot?!
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*The robot picks up a piece of a pillar and throws it in her direction*
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*Chiaki once again dodges out of the way, sliding across the floor and ducks behind another chunk of fallen ceiling*
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*The robot approaches her*
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*Kana takes the opportunity to shoot it in the exhaust vent three times*
*ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!*
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::Critical error::
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Maverick: What the hell is that megaphone?! Where’d you get that?!
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So much for a bit player, huh?!
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You worthless little...
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*Kana tosses the hacking gun into the air, which sails over the robot...*
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*...And lands in Chiaki’s hands*
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C’mon! Why don’t you try and squash me next?
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*The robot once again slams its claws into the ceiling, raining more pieces of debris down, pulling out a large piece of stone and raising it high above its head*
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*Which is enough for Chiaki to get another four shots in*
*ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!*
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Nice job!
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Thanks!
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::Warning: Multiple catastrophic failures detected::
________________________________________________________
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What the hell is happening over there?! Why isn’t it working?! And where the hell are Nakamura and the others?!
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*Kyoji responds by punching him in the face* Drop the controller, Storm!
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Agh!
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I’m not done yet, Nakamura...not by a long shot...
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I can take a couple more bullets, y’know.
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Drop it, asshole!
__________________________________________________
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...
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Miko-chan? What’s wrong?
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This room...
__________________________________________________
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*The robot freezes, shooting sparks in several directions*
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Is it broken? Did they get the controller?
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C’mon, it’s our opening!
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*The two proceed to wail on the robot with the hacking gun and a broken pipe, doing as much damage as possible*
*WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!*
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C’mon, who’s faster? Me or one of you?
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Don’t listen to him. He’s a good shot, I’ll give him that.
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Hrrgh...
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Hey, how’s your robot doing?
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WH-?!
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*He randomly fires off a few shots, then runs, going back to controlling it*
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*VVVVVRRRRRRRR*
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It’s back! Look out!
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*The robot’s upper section spins around, swinging its arms around*
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AGH!
*Kana doesn’t move away in time, sending her flying into the opposite wall*
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KANA!
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I-I’m okay...ow...
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Maverick: Aww, did that hurt? Don’t worry, it won’t for much lon-
*ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!*
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Leave her alone!
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::Warning: Cascade Failure Detected::
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Maverick: You got spirit, kid...more than I bargained for. Same with your friends. But you’re living in the real world! The real world doesn’t give a shit about spirit!
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No matter how much spirit you got, it’ll never be enough. Not when you can have everything that matters to you ripped away in an instant.
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Nakamura, Otonokoji, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?
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Like I give a shit what you think about me.
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Put! The Controller! Down!
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Oh, I’ll put something down, alright...
______________________________________________________
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*Light starts to gather in the robot’s eye once again*
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Oh no...
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*Only two shots remain in the hacking gun*
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...
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*ZAP!*
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*The first shot successfully cracks one of the power cords, but the beam continues charging*
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*Kana gets up* Chiaki!
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*ZAP!*
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*The blast impacts it straight into the eye, cracking the lens*
::WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEATING::
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Yes!
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Yeahahaha! We did it!
_____________________________________________
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NO! NO! Nononononono!
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And that’s game over!
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Oh, fuck...
*Maverick makes another break for it as the whole floor begins shaking*
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Wh-what’s happening?!
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System overload with a laser that powerful...oh god...
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But....Aki and Kana! They’re-
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GUYS! This way! The stairway’s the most stable part of a good building!
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Kana...
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Chiaki, find cover!
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I’m not leaving without you!
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Big sis...run.
*A blinding light envelopes the entire room as Chiaki runs toward Kana*
*In the next second, the entire floor gives way beneath them*
*KRAAA-BOOOOM*
18 notes · View notes
cosmicjoke · 3 years ago
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Alright, and now I’ve reached the final chapter of “No Regrets”, so let’s just dive right in!
There really is so much more to unpack from this story than I think people realize.
Firstly, just a few, truly devastating observations I want to talk about.
The first one being how, even after Furlan gets swallowed by the Titan, Levi still believes he can save him. The fact that he cuts the Titan open from the chest down to his sternum, and free’s Furlan’s arm, and the panels which show Levi reaching out for his hand and ripping him from the Titan’s stomach is just… so heartbreaking.  The way too that he gently carry’s him back to the ground and lays him out, only to discover that his entire lower half is gone, and he’s dead, just the level of trauma you know this must be causing Levi is immense, and beyond tragic.  This is one of only two, true friends in his life, and he’s so desperate to have been able to save him, that he clings on to the possibility to the bitter end, until he’s forced to face the bleak reality. Levi’s devastation is really brilliantly depicted in how he wobbles, as if his knees are weak, when he stands back up.
And then of course comes Levi’s rage, and how he takes it out on the Titans, expressing his grief and pain in the only way he knows how, through violence.  
But maybe the most heartbreaking moment here comes once he’s through killing every Titan there, and he starts to stumble away, and his foot comes into contact with Isabel’s severed head. This is, once more, another area in which the manga improved hugely over the visual novel.  
Levi’s reaction here is just… the most heartbreaking thing ever.  The way he stares when he realizes he’s looking at Isabel’s head, and then falls to his knees, his overwhelming grief here is just so beautifully depicted in these panels, as he reaches out a hand to cover her eyes, and then slides them closed, in an attempt to give her some sort of dignity in death.  The way he can’t even look at her, just doubled over in his grief, just killed me to see.  It’s so unspeakably sad, and conveys to us readers the true depth of Levi’s despair, I think.
And then we move on from this horrific grief, to the climactic moment of the story, when Levi and Erwin again come together, and we see Levi’s overwhelming rage.  Again, this entire scene was a massive improvement over the visual novel.  Well, for starters, in the visual novel, they had Levi cut Erwin’s horse down to bring him to the ground, and again, that’s just so out of character.  Luckily, they fixed that here too, with Levi simply leaping up and dragging Erwin off his horse.
These panels really are amazing too is showing Levi’s intense rage, as he warns Mike to back the hell off, and brings his blade to Erwin’s neck.
What’s really interesting here is what Levi says.  
After the struggle of the choice he made, before Furlan and Isabel were killed, after giving so much consideration and choosing based largely on their own dreams and wishes, Levi tells Erwin here “I’m going to kill you, you bastard.  That’s why I’m here.”.  And Erwin responds, after studying Levi a moment, “So they… all died? I see.”.  Erwin gleans here, both from Levi’s words and expression, that his friends have died, and what he says indicates that he knows the only reason Levi hasn’t tried to kill him before now is because Furlan’s and Isabel’s own well being and their own dreams were the only thing holding Levi back.  Levi made no attempt on Erwin’s life before because he was placing Furlan’s and Isabel’s wishes above his own, but now that they’re gone, there’s nothing to keep Levi from acting out his revenge.  
This is also where we get Erwin’s full reveal of just how in control of this entire situation he’s been this whole time, and how he manipulated every player and outcome to his desires.
This really isn’t something I see get discussed a whole lot when talking about Levi’s relationship with Erwin, and how it started out.  But, unquestionably, Erwin used Levi and his friends against their consent, to achieve his own ends.  He set the whole thing up, from first spreading rumors about having some sort of evidence against Lovof’s embezzlement, to then spreading the information that he was looking to recruit Levi and his friends from the Underground, thereby giving Lovof the very idea of going to them to obtain his own proof of the evidence’s existence, while simultaneously leading Erwin to the definitive proof he sought by following the messenger Lovof sent and intercepting him.  At the same time, giving Erwin a means of throwing Lovof off by using Levi, Furlan and Isabel for cover.  It really is incredibly impressive, but also heartbreaking, the way Erwin used Levi and his friends to his own ends, but of course, perfectly in character for Erwin too, willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. It begs certain questions though about the equality between Erwin and Levi, at least at the start of their relationship.  Erwin clearly had the control and power in this situation, and though clearly he never meant for Furlan and Isabel to die, still, his decision to rope Levi and them into his plans to catch Lovof and also to gain their strength and skill for the SC, did lead indirectly to their deaths.  Surely, if Erwin had never meddled in their lives, and used them as tools, they would have all still been alive in the Underground.  
But of course, this leads into a really interesting clash, then, between Levi and Erwin, and where we see Erwin win Levi over to his cause.  This is, as is becoming a redundant theme of my analysis here, a giant improvement over the visual novel.  There, it makes it seems as if Levi decides to follow Erwin only because Erwin has something Levi lacks, and until he can figure out what that something is, he won’t be able to “defeat him”, implying that Levi is still somehow obsessed with beating Erwin in some way.  Like he isn’t joining Erwin to fight for his dream of a better world, but because he wants to figure out what Erwin has that he doesn’t, so he can become superior, or whatever.  But here, in the manga, Levi’s reasons for deciding to follow Erwin are much more complex, and tied in with his own personal drive of wanting to help and save others, and into his relationship with Furlan and Isabel.  
Levi tells him “It wasn’t worth throwing away their lives!  They were nothing but pawns in your worthless game.  Well, you lose.”, right before he means to take Erwin’s head off.
What’s interesting here is Erwin’s response.  He doesn’t try to deny to Levi that he used Furlan and Isabel and Levi himself as pawns. He doesn’t argue, or try to defend himself on that front.  What he takes issue with is Levi calling the reasons for it a “worthless game”.
Erwin’s entire speech to Levi here really builds off of the feelings Levi had already started to develop, about feeling like he had maybe found a place to belong, where he could maximize the good he could do.  This wasn’t yet a fully formed idea in Levi’s head, up to this point, but the seeds of it had started to form.
Erwin asks Levi who’s responsible for killing his friends.  He asks if it was him, if it was Levi, and then he asks if he really thought that if they had come together to attack Erwin, that they would have made it out alive.  
This is what Levi is beating himself up over, of course.  The belief that he made the wrong decision, in leaving Furlan and Isabel behind, thinking to himself if they hadn’t split up, they would still be alive.  He blames himself for how he came to that decision, and starts to say as much to Erwin here, saying it was his conceit and his pride that was to blame, no doubt thinking of how it was his memory of Erwin and the humiliation he caused Levi that was the final tipping point which decided him in favor of going after Erwin himself, and also how he simply convinced himself that he would be able to shoulder all of the responsibility himself in such a dire situation, remembering how he told Furlan “I can do it by myself!” so insistently, asking him to trust him, to trust essentially in Levi’s strength.  To Levi, in this moment, his own strength must have seemed worthless suddenly, his belief in it leading to nothing but abject failure.   But then Erwin cuts him off and says, emphatically that, no, it was the Titans who killed them, before beginning to talk about how little they know about the Titans, and how if they continue to remain ignorant like that, they’ll never win against them.  He tells Levi to look around himself, and points out how, for as far as the eye can see, there are no walls, and then suggests that, in all that open space, there might be something they can find to free humanity from its despair and imprisonment.  And then he reminds Levi that there are people who want to stop this from this from happening, only concerned with their own profits and losses, content to stay where danger can’t reach them.  He shows sympathy, saying it’s understandable why they feel that way, because they’ve been blinded by the walls for a hundred years, and can’t see past their own survival.
And then he asks Levi if his eyes have remained clouded too.  He’s asking Levi here if he only knows how to live for himself, and if he’ll kill him and return to the Underground to continue to do so, after losing the two people he cared most about in this world.
But of course, Levi’s already learned how to live for people other than himself.  That was his whole reason for coming to the Surface in the first place.  In support and dedication to the hopes and dreams of his friends.  Levi’s eyes HAVEN’T been clouded, he’s already discovered and embraced what it means to give your life for others, already able to see past his own benefit.  
Erwin reminds Levi of that here, and tells him they won’t give up on going outside the walls, before asking Levi to fight with the Survey Corps, telling him “Humanity needs your skill!!”.  He reminds Levi, even after the loss of the two people whom he had been living for up to that point, that he can continue to live for others still, that he can still fight for the hopes and dreams of others, and that he doesn’t have to return to the life of isolation and loneliness and futility that he once lived, that he doesn’t have to return to simply surviving, or fighting only to survive. He’s reminding Levi that his life can mean more than that, just like he realized when he became friends with Isabel and Furlan.  That his life can have purpose, and that, if he lends his strength to the SC, he can do more even than help a few people.  He can, in fact, help all of humanity.  
The following panels show Levi coming to this realization.  He remembers Furlan and Isabel at his sides as they rode out into the open for the first time, into the first, true sense of freedom they had ever known, and their shared awe and wonder at the sight.  And Levi is realizing here, just as he had fought for his friends dreams of freedom, and of a better, more hopeful life, he can continue to fight for the same, only for everybody, for all people.  He can make the most of his abilities, and help the most people, by staying in the SC and fighting at Erwin’s side, fighting for Erwin’s vision of something beyond the walls, of a kind of salvation for humanity.
What Erwin gives Levi here, really, the thing Erwin gives Levi that he before lacked, is a sense of hope. A belief in his own ability to make a meaningful, positive impact on the lives of others.  It’s like Erwin’s own belief in that hope for humanity’s salvation is so strong, that Levi finds himself able to believe in it too, and he decides then and there that, for the sake of that hope, for the sake of the vision of something better, Levi will stay by Erwin’s side.  Because it’s what Levi’s always wanted to do, to fight for the hopes and dreams of others, to fight to make the lives of other people better, and Erwin has shown him the way to do so.  He shows Levi that Furlan and Isabel didn’t die for a “worthless game”, but for the sake of all human kind, and that’s why Levi is able to let go of his anger towards Erwin and follow him.  And that really feeds into Levi’s need, later on, for every soldier’s death to carry meaning.  If he can believe Furlan and Isabel died for a truly important reason, he can accept it and cope with his grief.  Like Isabel expressed herself before, these people genuinely believe their cause is worth dying for, and Erwin reminds Levi of this again.  
So he forgets his anger and pain, and chooses instead to follow Erwin, and dedicate himself to the cause of humanity’s salvation.  
The final panels of the manga are incredibly moving, with Levi slowing down behind Erwin and Mike, and glancing back one last time to where he lost his two, best friends, before looking away and riding on, as the sun shines through the clouds.  Like one, final acknowledgment of their lives together, and the sacrifice they made, before committing himself fully to his new life ahead.
 I’m going to be compiling all of these chapter analysis’ into a single, master post, which I’ll have up soon.  Anyway, I hope whoever took the time to read them found them worthwhile in some way, and thank you so much if you did!  And remember, if you have anything to contribute, or just want to make a comment of any sort, feel free!
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tenmillionwhumperflies · 4 years ago
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Cloudwalker Series Part 23
Alright, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst and a whoooollllleee lotta whump. It’s Avizon’s backstory time, peeps!
Warnings: Abusive woman, beatings, dislocations, blood, hand whump, guilt for hurting someone/ comparing to an abusive/evil character. 
Master-list Here
Approx WC: 2200
Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi
When Avizon went downstairs he found Orrien teaching Ihuka how to peel potatoes. He couldn’t help but faintly smile, seeing Ihuka screwing up his face as he concentrated. “Before you say it, I couldn’t sleep so I gave up and started making dinner. Ihuka wanted to help,” Orrien supplied. “He’s doing a good job. We’ve been learning some words and he’s taken quite a shine to Mouse.”
Avizon looked at the metal dragon on Avizon’s ear, which was currently guarding a pea. Avizon smiled, but it wasn’t as forced as he expected it to be. “Horse called Fox and a dragon called Mouse. You’re a creative one, that’s for sure. So, what have we learned then, Ihuka?” “Tay-toe!” Ihuka beamed, showing him the potato he’d finished peeling. “Potato, yes, clever bird,” Avizon chuckled.
“Ummm… knife, pot, bowl,” he pointed to each item. “Fire… hot. d.dangerous?” “Yes, fires are hot and dangerous.” Orrien grinned and pointed to a pan. “And what’s in there?” “Dinner!” he beamed. Orrien and Avizon chuckled. “You’re making quite the chef out of young Ihuka.” Orrien chuckled and collected a bowl of stew for Ihuka. “And I found a way to get him to eat his v-e-g.” “Drowned in gravy and stock?” Avizon guessed. Orrien winked.
It was true, Ihuka would have to start to eat vegetables since he wasn’t getting the greens now he wasn’t in the wild. Avizon wanted to be able to keep him healthy and happy.
Orrien gave him the bowl. “Off with you now, go eat outside.”
“Eat… out...side...” he pointed to the window. “Yes, outside, clever bird.” Ihuka beamed and left. “He’s gone to sit on the step, bless his heart. He’s a good lad, really. It’s nice being able to teach him words.”
Avizon nodded. “I just hope I can undo the damage I’ve done...”
Orrien looked up at him and sighed. “I think you can, with time. He’s bouncing back, but I think he also knows you didn’t mean it. He can see your regret.” “I hope so… I also noticed something… A few days after Ihuka bit me, I began to change. Seeing Blue’s bite, get infected like that… I can’t help but wonder if Ihuka biting me… if it… changed me, helped tilt the scales.”
“Perhaps so.” “And to think that’s what I broke him for...” Avizon mumbled. “All my life I swore I’d never be anything like Halve, but I fear that is what I have become-” Orrien’s mood immediately darkened. “Do not say that name in this home. And you are nothing like that man, or his bitch of a daughter.” Avizon flinched at his sudden change. “I’m sorry. But I almost killed Ihuka, how am I that much better?” “Because you feel guilt. You feel regret. That is why.” Orrien gestured for him to sit and reluctantly, Avizon did so. Orrien sat opposite him.
Avizon sighed. “Is that enough to separate me from that monster?” “Yes. It is. Now please, you need to dismiss those thoughts. You are better than him. Ro loved you, you don’t get to compare yourself to that beast. Where is this coming from, Avizon?”
Avizon found the wooden table beneath him to be the better thing to look at. “I’ve had too much time to think about all the wrong I have done… Seeing how my birds react to me… I… Seeing Blue and Dyan, how they need each other… It has brought up memories. All I can see are the similarities between me and… him.” He looked down at his hand, at the small scar on the top of his hand that the princess had left behind from one of her attacks.
Avizon sighed. “I’m having a difficult day, I suppose.”
“What you went through was by no means easy. You pushed your body to its limit and then so much further. You were lost, yes, but you are also trying to find yourself again, to be better.” Orrien carefully put a hand on his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”
Avizon shook his head. “I think I’ll go for a ride. You should know, our guest, Tashka, is still in the barn, I believe. He has promised to not attack this place again.”
“Good… How is Blue anyway? Did he wake?” “He cracked open his eyes a little, but I left him with Dyan since Dyan was having a hard time too. He practically asked me to punish him and muzzle him but I refused… He thought I was going to take his other horn when he accidentally snarled at me.” Orrien frowned. “Poor bird… With Blue, we never got around to working past his fear of taking off his collar. But Dyan wasn’t threatened by its removal. Perhaps you could get him a weighed necklace, something he can feel, to reassure him on his more vulnerable days, when he feels like he is doing wrong? It is hard for them to adapt at times.”
Avizon nodded slowly. “I will speak to him when he’s calm and see what we can do. He looked about ready to fall asleep when I left him.” Orrien excused himself from the table. “I’d like to pop my head around the door and make sure everything is well. I was meaning to check on Blue anyway. What he went through…  I shouldn’t be long.” Orrien gestured to the pot. “You should eat.” Avizon nodded but he didn’t hear the words he said. He was lost in thought, staring at his scarred hand. He shuddered with the memories, but Orrien had already left. He didn’t need to see this, he didn’t like to have people see his struggling.
And so his mind wandered, and Avizon couldn’t reel it back in. All he could think about was his time at that cursed castle, the pain he’d endured, to all the events that had led him into darkness, and despair…
Several Years ago...
Avizon groaned as he made his way up the many stairs to get to the top of the tower to see Orrien and have his wounds checked over from the day before. Orrien had healed him well, but he needed to keep a close eye on it. Avizon had been unconscious after one of the princesses 'gifts' had left him too close to death. 
It had been a bad stab wound sent in a fit of rage because Avizon hadn't knelt fast enough with his still healing leg injury from several days prior. Nothing he could do was ever enough for that woman or her father. Every failure brought pain which brought more failure. It was a cycle he couldn't escape from but he was running out of blood to give.
He'd only just gotten to the top, panting for breath, when he came face to face with Princess Eriona. He bit back a whimper and bowed. "Your Highness." "Downstairs, now," she hissed. "You didn't make an appearance yesterday."
Because he was unconscious, but that wasn't an answer he could provide. "Yes, your Highness… my sincerest apologies."
With every day that passed the desire to kill that bitch grew, but he was too terrified to ever act upon such thoughts.
Despite struggling all the way up the stairs, he now had to go back down. He politely invited Eriona to go first, but she slapped the back of his head and shoved him towards the stairs. He struggled to keep his balance as he limped down faster than he wanted to. He blinked away tears and bit back a grimace as the spiking pain increased rapidly.
"Hurry up!"
Despite his pain, he did so, his limp growing worse. He was in so much pain but he just couldn't stop. It wasn’t an option, she was already clearly so mad.
"You had the audacity to get my father involved, getting me into trouble for lowering his 'security'. Like you could do anything! You're worthless, pathetic! And one day once father is dead you'll be mine to hurt as I wish!"
She kicked him in the back of the head before he could string together some sort of reply, sending him down half a dozen stairs before he could catch himself. His stomach flipped when he felt something give in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, holding onto it with a strangled sob. He could only guess it had dislocated. He struggled to get up again with three shaky limbs. He choked back a sob. He was sure he'd opened his stab wound too. He clamped his eyes shut.
"Please, mistress," he whimpered, daring to use the other name she liked him to use when they were alone. "I..."
"Get up!" she spat, grabbing him by the hair and yanking up.
Avizon struggled to his feet and had no choice but to keep walking. His body burned with the pain he was in. He cried out as he hobbled, keeping a hand against the wall for support.
"Cry all you want, coward, you will be punished."
Finally, he made it to the bottom of the stairs, snivelling, whimpering, and shaking. He just couldn't take this anymore. He just couldn't live the rest of his life like this. He yearned for the day he could be free from this, from the pain. Ro always told him he didn’t deserve this, but then why did he always suffer so?
Avizon gulped as she forced him on into a storage cupboard. He knew what to expect, and he could only try to defend himself from the beating he received from her. He tried to protect his shoulder and hold on as best he could as he could until her frustration died down. That was all he was to her, a punching bag, a means of gaining satisfaction from hurting others. He was nothing in her eyes. The king wouldn’t correct her either, he just made sure she didn’t kill him. He curled up in the corner and gradually fell down to the ground with each devastating blow to his already broken body.
He screamed when she got him to the ground and started to kick him in the ribs. He wheezed and curled up until finally, finally, she stopped, panting for breath. She reached up into her hair and Avizon braced in advance, turning his head away. There was a sudden pain in his hand and he cried out. Then there was a yanking sensation, and blood flowed freely. Stabbed with her hairpin. He tried to focus on breathing, to get gulps of air past his frozen lungs and broken ribs. He tried not to stare at his hand.
“Do not ignore me next time I call for you,” she glowered. He lay on the floor, battered, broken, and in so much pain he just simply could not move even if he wanted to. His eyes were dull and unseeing. He barely managed to choke out, “Yes, m.mistress...”
She left him alone, to lay on the floor in agony, out of sight of anyone in the castle. He closed his eyes and waited for unconsciousness, for someone to find him. He didn’t care which anymore. This was the life he had almost always lived, and there would be no escape from it…
He didn’t remember falling unconscious, but he woke to the feeling of warmth on his cheek, a hand, and not just anyone. “Open your eyes, my love, please open your eyes… Oh, by the realms… W.what the fuck has she done to you this time?...”
Avizon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a feeble sob. He forced his eyes open a crack, just enough to see his beautiful green eyes. “R.Ro...”
Ro hushed him gently and kissed his forehead. "I've got you. My father's on his way- stay awake, sweetheart, please stay awake."
Avizon didn't even try to sit up. He couldn't if he wanted to. He was battling with his heavy eyelids, the whispered promise of painlessness. Ro sat down beside him and pulled him into his lap with care. Avizon whimpered as his shoulder moved but he tried to stay quiet for Ro. He wanted the comfort. The pain was so heavy he couldn't breathe.
"Ro?" Orrien called. "In here. I.it's bad," Ro answered.
Avizon saw the tears in his eyes and reached up with a bloody hand to wipe his tears away but thought better of it. His hand was so covered that it would have marked his face. He didn't want to do that to him.
"'m okay," he mumbled instead, even if he felt like anything but.
The first thing Orrien did when he saw him was swear. “She’s getting out of control,” he hissed, kneeling down to assess the injuries. Avizon whimpered and tried to push his hand away from his now clearly bleeding wound. “N.no, master, p.please...”
Orrien gently put his hand on Avizon’s forehead, assessing his temperature. “I’m going to have to inform the king again-”
“No!” Avizon yelped, trying to sit up, but that drew a scream from him. Ro eased him back down as he panted heavily and sweat dripped from his body. “N.no...” “She punished you for it? Dash it all!” Orrien spat, but he quickly dismissed his anger. “Alright… let’s just get you upstairs so I can patch this up. Don’t worry, lad, I’ve got you… sleep.”
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taesramenhair · 3 years ago
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Set Me Free [MYG]
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The abbey has been a constant in Yoongi’s life: his home, his school, his workplace. Now it’s burning, pillaged by invaders - and it’s up to him to keep their relic safe. The strange man he meets at the high altar doesn’t seem to understand that, but he does understand staying out of harm's way.
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word count: 5.7k // genre + rating: SFW (12)
warnings/tags etc: violence, injury, minor character death (unnamed characters), mention of corporal punishment, some Not Nice People, as you might have guessed - angst with a happy ending, monk!Yoongi (sort of), vague middle ages AU, religious imagery, religious references, mainly ft. Jimin but the others have a cameo at the end too. [This is my first fic so I'm not used to tagging - please, please tell me if I've missed something important!]
Masterlist
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Yoongi never thought he’d be grateful for a childhood spent chasing chickens, but here he was. With the wind snarling around his reddened ears and loose pebbles rolling under his feet, he was immensely thankful that he’d always been given the outdoor duties. At the time, he’d hated it, of course, but it had built his stamina - and if there’s one thing you need when fleeing up a mountain, chased by murderous bandits, it’s the ability to run.
Not that he was going that fast anymore. The terrain was difficult, path narrow and winding, and the cut on his arm was distractingly painful. It wasn’t bleeding so much now, thankfully, but it throbbed with every beat of his worn-down sandals against the dusty rock. His one advantage over his pursuers was that he knew this path well and they didn’t. He had gained a lead on them in the twisting corridors of the abbey – his abbey, now nothing more than hollowed, blackened stone burning violently in the valley below – and left them scrabbling foolishly in the dense foliage at the base of the mountain. It wouldn’t be long before they made their way through, though, and he had to reach the top first. He had to make it to the altar.
A misjudged footfall coming around the last corner slid Yoongi into the floor, landing heavily on his left shoulder as the strap of his sandal broke apart. Every ache in his body rose now that he wasn’t moving, screaming up towards the bright midday sky even as he forced himself to let out nothing louder than a pained groan. He couldn’t let them know anything was wrong. Let them think he was safe. Let them think he was long gone.
Testing his shoulder with a gentle roll – ah, painful – the young acolyte turned onto his knees and rose shakily. The broken sandal was all but useless, barely staying on his foot as he stepped forward. This high on the mountain, though, the ground was harsh and stony, the only foliage being the flowering apple tree next to the altar Yoongi couldn’t yet see but knew was just over the next rise. He’d have to hobble to keep the shoe on but it was preferable to tearing the sole of his foot on jagged stones. If only he hadn���t given his best shoes as an offering, he thought bitterly – and then instantly chastised himself. The gods had ben pleased with that offering, had taken it quickly and sent plentiful rains in response. It had been a worthwhile sacrifice, even if he was now struggling to reach sanctuary.
A noise below told him the bandits had broken through the tree cover already. They were gaining on him. He hobbled faster.
No one had expected an attack that day. Yoongi had been by the stream when it started, bathing his battered hands in the cool waters, breathing in the dews of the spring day and hoping they would sweeten his tears.
(It had been his turn to watch the blessed fire, but he had been sick all week and the abbot had caught him sleeping at his post. The welts of his punishment would linger for a few days: they always did.)
Hearing the tower bells had pulled Yoongi from his mournful reverie – it was not yet dawn, and those bells should not have been ringing. Something was terribly wrong.
Cold grey stone was already dripping red warmth by the time Yoongi reached the doors to the place he had called home since his seventh winter. Prayerful silence had given way to terrible screams, like the great oaken entrance had buckled beneath the force of the invaders’ battering. Centuries of monastic tradition was no match for the terror of a freshly forged blade baptising itself in the blood of the aged brothers, it would seem.
He could have run there and then, abandoned it all to its inevitable oblivion and fled towards the slowly rising sun. There were things he had grown to value there, though, lessons that had been drummed into him by chant and fast and blood. To run with no attempt at saving the abbey’s great treasure would be an insult to the gods too grave to contemplate. Sure, he would survive – but it would not be a life worth having, cursed to his final breath.
So he had waded through the wails of his brothers, the dying agony of those who had raised and formed him, taking the hidden passages to reach the inner sanctum before the newcomers did. They seemed to plunder aimlessly, unaware that there was only one prize worth having within the abbey walls, more valuable than the golden triptychs or the silver-wrought chalices. For the blessed fire – the one Yoongi had been punished so harshly for failing to attend – burned to light the presence of a great relic: a priceless stone that betokened the favour of the gods. That favour had passed now from the vaulted corridors of the abbey it had settled on for centuries, that much was clear. Even so, as Yoongi crawled past the death-closed eyes of the kind, wizened man he had once playfully addressed as halabeoji, he knew the stone must be preserved and taken to the high altar until the gods chose to bestow it anew. If he could just get it there, he could beg their protection in return – he could beg preservation from the terrible fate that had fallen out around him.
Now, finally dragging his trembling limbs over the last mound, Yoongi saw the goal he had been fighting towards since daybreak. Half-shrouded in bruised blossoms from the apple tree stretching lazily by its side, the high altar basked in afternoon sunshine, dark stone glistening where droplets from the nearby waterfall had lost their way. He had seen it many times, in all weathers – sent far up the mountain in deepest winter to offer penance for a drifting mind; honoured to represent the community in late summer and give thanks for a bountiful harvest. Always the end of his journey and always a place of refuge. Looking at it, he could almost forget about the horrors he had seen. It was almost relaxing.
Only almost, though. Not only was he aware of the toll his journey had taken – not to mention the danger still snapping at his blistered heels – but when Yoongi looked at the altar today, he saw something he had never seen there before.
A young man – small, lithe, delicate – was sitting on the altar, back against the sacred tree. He was a vision in the dappled light, so beautiful next to Yoongi’s swollen eyes, bloodied robes and dusty feet. Looks were deceiving, though, and apparently Yoongi was to add another sacrilege to the list of crimes committed against everything he held dear. The man, damn him, was eating the offerings left upon the altar for the gods. Had he had more energy, Yoongi could have burst into tears at the sight.
“What are you doing?” he cried, voice cracking and distraught. “Get off! Go away! Those are offerings, we need them! I – please. I need the gods’ favour. Go away!” The boy did little more than blink at Yoongi and tilt his head slowly to the left. A child-like hand raised a flask of blessed water – blessed water – to full, pink lips and Yoongi choked on air, disbelieving.
“There are no gods here, silly.” A soft, high voice came from the young man, sure and unconcerned. “Only me.”
Angry tears did slip from Yoongi’s eyes then. How dare this – this boy say such things? Yoongi had not endured the destruction of his home for some spoiled brat to anger the gods and leave him defenceless and a failure. Marching towards the altar, he bowed quickly and muttered an apology to the tree before taking a firm grasp of the boy’s black hair and yanking him down unceremoniously, heedless of the responding cry.
“I am the last acolyte of the abbey and I will not have you defile this altar and the offerings left to our gods.” His speech would have more impact if he weren’t gasping through tears and physically shaking, but Yoongi was doing his best. “We have been beaten and burned and murdered today and I am here to return the stone of favour to the gods for safekeeping and beg their protection from the evil that has pursued me all day and you – how dare you treat this place with so little respect?” Wide eyes and a soft pout looked up at him from the ground, the boy not having moved from where Yoongi had thrown him. He realised that the ground was still harsh here and felt a little bad – even if he was a sacrilegious blasphemer, this boy seemed a couple of years younger than Yoongi and the fall must have hurt him. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand. Yoongi did his best to rearrange the remaining gifts on the altar (so few, the boy must taken so much of it, the gods would be displeased) and placed the stone carefully in the centre before dropping stiffly to his knees. Wiping his tears and bowing his head to the ground, he muttered out a series of chants and then sat back on his heels, chin lifted to the skies and streaming eyes closed against the light.
“Great gods above, hear my call,” he declared, loudly as his ragged throat allowed him. “We know not why you have withdrawn your blessing from us. We thank you for having granted it at all, for letting us live such charmed lives for you for many years. We return now your stone. Please retain your grace in it and bestow it anew upon others. Do not abandon us all, oh great ones. Hear me when I call to you, worthless as I am. Do not forget us all.” His voice faltered and Yoongi tipped his head forward again, barely managing a whisper. “I ask your protection. Please. I know I have not served you perfectly, but I have tried so hard. I wanted to please you. I want to deserve your favour. You’ve always answered me so graciously – and I know better servants have died horribly today, but please. I don’t want to die. Protect me.” The thunderous footsteps of the bandits started to reach his ears and Yoongi gasped, pressing his face desperately to the ground once more. A soft noise behind him reminded him he was not alone and he spoke again. “Protect us both.”
For a few moments there was silence, and then Yoongi heard the stones to his left shifting quickly, as though someone were running towards him. He tensed, still bowing before the altar and praying that somehow the gods would protect him. A pair of hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled, and he couldn’t help but let out a sob. He knew he had never deserved anything from the gods, but he had hoped so dearly that they would spare him.
“It’s just me, acolyte, get up.” The words filtered through his distress like thick cream through muslin, slow and awkward. He couldn’t quite grasp them. “We have to go, now.”
“Can’t,” he stuttered out, managing to open his eyes and twist away from the young man’s grip, crawling back towards the altar. “I have to be here. The gods –“
“The gods won’t help you.” Though his words were harsh, the man looked concerned, reaching a hand out towards Yoongi again imploringly. “Let me help you, please. Come with me. They’re close now: we have to go.” Yoongi knew he was telling the truth – he could hear voices as well as footsteps now, could almost hear the singing of the blades he knew the bandits were carrying. But he couldn’t leave the altar – could he? It had always been his safety and it was the last remains of his abbey – his faith. He had run this far for the gods. If he ran further, for himself, did that make him a coward? Would he have betrayed them all? Would he prove himself as unworthy as the abbot had always told him he was? Teary-eyed and shaking, he set his mouth and looked the young man right in the eye.
“Save yourself if you can. I cannot leave.” It had the desired effect. The man nodded curtly, stood and began to leave, pausing by the altar as he did so.
“Fine,” he called back. “But I’m taking the rest of this food with me. No point letting it go to waste. This stone is pretty, too. I don’t know about it being blessed or anything, but I think I’ll take it.” Sure enough, he picked it up, tossed it in the air and pocketed it with a stunning smile that all but closed his eyes. Then, he started simply sauntering away, all sense of urgency gone.
He’s baiting me, Yoongi thought. He hadn’t managed to convince him to leave on his own, so he was taking the stone like some sort of carrot, hoping Yoongi, like a donkey, would follow. Yoongi half wanted to be stubborn, to sit there and die like a fool just to prove that he had a stronger will than this brattish stranger presumed. The louder part of him, however, was relieved at having been given permission to abandon the altar, a reason beyond self-preservation to stand up and follow him to safety. He couldn’t leave the stone of favour in the hands of someone with so little respect that he would lean against a sacred tree and eat the gods’ offerings with his feet on their altar. Impossible. It was his sacred duty to stagger up and stumble after him, calling chastisements as loudly as he dared and trying to match pace when the stranger sped up, leading him around the corner from the altar to a hidden path he had never thought to look for.
The altar was at the top of the mountain path – Yoongi had never considered that there might be other paths down beyond it. It was the destination, the end of the line. Going further just wasn’t something he’d ever considered, and that this man was leading him like it was second nature was the last straw for him. Lost in a haze, he followed wordlessly, almost blindly, the ache of his arms and his legs and his feet whispering somewhere but barely decipherable through the thick fog of his mind. At some point they entered a dark tunnel and the young man took his hand gently, perhaps aware of how feeble Yoongi’s grip on awareness was. Between the soft touch and the pressing darkness around him, Yoongi let himself go.
Waking up again was a far less pleasant experience than drifting off had been. It wasn’t a slow rise to the surface, lazy and comfortable like waking to a summer dawn – it was a sudden dive from absolute nothingness into decided somethingness. All at once Yoongi was aware again of the stiffness in his calves and the ache of his arm; the throb of his head from a week of sickness, a lack of sleep and the dehydration of having cried his frustrations out on the mountaintop. The fog lifted and he sat up quickly, huffing softly through his nose as the movement made his stomach lurch and his vision swim. He could remember being annoyed at a bright smile, and fluffy, black hair disappearing into a tunnel – and the stone! Right, yes. Dangerous bandits, bratty stranger, following the stone. That’s what had happened.
“There’s some water next to you – you should drink it,” he heard the stranger say from somewhere off to his right. Yoongi glanced around him, twisting on the bed roll laid out in his corner of what seemed to be a small, wooden room. Sure enough, there was a whole pitcher of water beside him. After a few seconds of blinking at the floor failed to magic a cup into existence, Yoongi picked it up and hesitantly tilted it against his lips. The water was lukewarm and hardly counted as refreshing, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since the abbot had woken him before, well, everything and his throat was grateful to be soothed.
“What did you do with the stone?” Even after a few mouthfuls of water, his voice was deep and gruffer than he had meant it to be. The stranger just giggled and Yoongi managed to make out his shape in the low light, sitting against the opposite wall.
“Don’t worry, acolyte. It’s safe here. I’ll give it to you in the morning, if you like.” Yoongi grumbled and the stranger laughed again. “You know, you were cute when you were half asleep. All whiny, like a kitten.”
“I’m not a kitten.” (He had a vague notion that his mother used to call him that. He hadn’t seen her for years, not since she had given him away in the hope of pleasing the gods and bringing a good harvest. Maybe he had dreamed it up. He certainly hadn't had a nickname since joining the abbey.)
“Who are you, then?” The question took Yoongi by surprise and he cleared his throat as he shifted back a little, resting against the wall behind him and drawing his knees painfully up. From the feel of the fabric under his fingertips, he was still in his robes from earlier and whilst he was relieved that the stranger had not undressed him, he desperately wanted to be clean. He wondered whether there was any chance of getting a bath, just soaking in hot water and letting it steam away everything that had happened. Probably not.
“Yoongi,” he said shortly. “Who’re you?”
“My name’s Jimin. How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.” Yoongi didn’t like where this was going.
“Hyung!”
“No.” He thought he could see a flicker of a pout and was glad of the cover of darkness. Living around older monks meant he hadn’t really been exposed to much cuteness – he hadn’t been anyone’s hyung ever– so he didn’t think he’d be able to hold out against it. At least if he couldn’t see this Jimin’s face, the only thing he had to resist was the whining that started up immediately.
“I saved your life, let me call you hyung!”
“You desecrated my altar!”
“I told you, Yoongi-hyung, there are no gods here! If the altar’s not really sacred, how can I have desecrated it?” That stung worse than the other injuries vying for Yoongi’s attention. He had devoted his life to serving the gods. It was all he had known. He had put up with long nights and early mornings for years, allowed the other monks to literally beat him into shape, all in the hope that it would appease some deity with the power to improve people’s lives - and now this clueless boy wanted to tear it all into pieces.
“There are gods, Jimin-ssi. We have left them offerings for centuries, and they have always taken them and given what we asked for in return.” He thought he heard a snort, and it was his turn to pout.
“Like what, hyung? When have the gods taken something and given something in return? How would that even work?” Yoongi didn’t have to think.
“Last autumn. The rains were late so the farmers were worried the fruits wouldn’t ripen properly and they would have to feed their livestock from reserves, which might mean they would run out before the frosts ended. I’d been working on a new pair of sturdy boots all year because mine had fallen to pieces, but we needed an offering, so I brought them up to the altar and left them there. Two days later, the rains started, and the boots were gone. We gave the boots; they gave the rains.” He sounded smug. He knew he sounded smug, but he also knew he was right. Traditions existed for a reason, and the abbey existed because it worked. It helped. The monks prayed and trekked up the mountain to offer sacrifices because the gods listened to them and protected their people. Or at least, they used to.
“Oh.” There was the sound of shuffling across the room, and then a hiss as a flame was struck. Yoongi blinked blearily as Jimin lit a candle, picked something up from the floor and shuffled over, nearly tripping on the long, woven blanket he had wrapped around his narrow shoulders. “Um, Yoongi-ssi – those boots, they, um. Well. They didn’t look like this, did they?” Kneeling next to Yoongi’s bed roll, Jimin lifted the candle and proffered a muddy pair of boots with his other hand. Slightly crooked teeth worried his lip as he waited for the acolyte to respond. Yoongi took the boots reluctantly, fingering over the caked mud and peering closely. He couldn’t see much, in truth – and he had only ever felt his boots when they were brand new, unworn. His fingertips didn’t recognise these ones, leather both soft with wear and rugged from the elements. Guiding Jimin’s hand closer to gain more light, he turned them over and picked at the dirt dried into the arch.
“You’re terrible at looking after boots,” he muttered as a large clump came away in his hand, revealing the sole. Jimin didn’t respond. The last bit of mud fell to the floor and Yoongi coughed on a harsh sob. There, tucked next to the heel, was the mark Yoongi put on all his things.
“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered as Yoongi’s eyes drifted blankly to the wall beside him. “I didn’t realise you had offered them up. I always – ever since I was tiny, there have always been things there and we always took them, so I thought they were meant for us. I thought you all knew we were taking them. I thought you were looking after us.”
“You’ve been taking the offerings for years?” Maybe if he asked the question quietly enough, the answer would be different. It wasn’t.
“All my life. Yoongi-ssi, I’m so sorry. My parents showed me and when they were gone - I guess I didn't think about it. I didn’t know it meant anything until you shouted at me earlier, and then I thought you were just being… I don’t know. Sanctimonious?” Yoongi huffed, still not looking at the younger man.
“Big word.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you thought – but those offerings didn’t go to waste. We’d have died here without them.” A silence stretched tensely between them, Jimin left without words to explain himself and Yoongi winded by how abruptly his world was turning itself inside out. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he had lost everything that had ever been familiar to him. He also had to have his faith shaken and his understanding of how the world worked ripped out from under him. There was only really one thing to do.
“I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled, curling up to face the wall even though it meant lying on his wrenched shoulder. Behind him, he heard Jimin place the candle on the ground and move the boots – his boots? Yoongi’s boots? it didn’t matter anymore – away.
“Hyung,” came the soft voice again as a small hand reached over his hunched shoulder, “here. I think you should keep this. We can talk again in the morning.” Firm fingers prised Yoongi’s hand away from his side and pressed something cool and round into his palm. The stone, he thought. There is still the stone. He fell asleep with it pressed against his chest, safe.
They didn’t speak the next day. In fact, Yoongi gave Jimin the silent treatment for three weeks, only staying with him because the heavens opened during the night and refused to close again for long enough to allow Yoongi to even hope to venture off the mountainside. He didn’t have anywhere to go in any case – and whilst he was furious with Jimin and completely lost without his routine and the guidance of the other monks, he knew being somewhere warm and dry, with a reliable source of food and someone to offer to massage his aching shoulder was better than dying in a ditch somewhere from stubbornness.
(He never accepted the massage offers, of course, but it felt nice to know that someone cared enough to ask.)
When the rains finally cleared, Yoongi had Jimin show him the way back up to the altar. The blossom was all gone now, flushed away by the rain, but the leaves were strong and the waterfall babbled happily. Yoongi didn’t think the tree would fruit this year, since the flowers hadn’t had time to set before the storms, but it still stood. The altar still stood. That was something.
Sitting on the edge of the mountain, he could see the charred ruins of his home below – joined now by more ruins to the west. Though they hadn’t found him, the group who had attacked the abbey had travelled back down the mountain and continued their rampage, working through the nearby villages and taking what they could. Bright sunshine was no remedy for such heaviness, and Yoongi felt his face crumple watching the birds fly down towards the blackened remains of thriving communities. Maybe Jimin was right and there never were gods – maybe it was better that way. To think that they had been abandoned to such death and ruin hurt more than believing they had never been blessed by anything more than good chance in the first place.
“Hey, hyung – look!” Jimin called excitedly from the waterfall, oblivious to the destruction right below him. Jimin, it turned out, had never really come down off the mountain. His parents had retreated to a small cabin in a hidden glade after a particularly nasty feud with a distant cousin, and he had been raised in near solitude. He knew about the villages, of course, but he had never been to one. Their loss was a sad idea to him, but no more than that. Flowering daisies were all it took to distract him, and he sought to do the same for Yoongi, even if he was ignored.
“Hey, Grumpy-hyung! I saved your life, you know, you can at least pretend to be interested when I try to show you the finer beauties of this world!” A thought struck Yoongi, finally back in the place where he had thought for certain his life would end. It hit him hard enough to make him gasp, head tilting up to the sky so quickly that Jimin forgot his flowers and came rushing to see what the matter was.
“You’re wrong!” he declared as soon as Jimin settled beside him, before the younger boy had even spoken. “You’re wrong.”
“Something tells me you’re not talking about daisies.”
“There are gods.” Yoongi brought his chin down again and looked at Jimin straight, eyes still red from his tears but perfectly sure. “You said there weren’t gods. There are.”
“Um. Ok.”
“There are. I asked them for their protection and they protected me.” Jimin’s brow crinkled a little and his eyes followed Yoongi’s movement as he stood and paced to the altar, one hand reaching out gently to touch the bark of the apple tree.
“I mean, not to be pedantic, but I protected you, hyung.”
“Sure.” Yoongi had never admitted that before, no matter how much Jimin wheedled for acknowledgment. He figured either this was a minor miracle or the pressure had finally cracked him. “I’ve been coming up here for fifteen years, Jimin-ah. All times of day, all seasons, all weathers. I’ve never seen you. None of us have. And then the one day I need someone to be here, when I’m being chased and I’m completely alone for the first time in my life - you’re just sitting on the altar." For the first time, Jimin saw Yoongi smile – a bright, full-toothed, gummy thing that lit up his eyes and transformed his face. “Like an offering. We gave them offerings, they gave them to you – and then they gave you back to me.” When Yoongi chuckled and leant against the tree, Jimin couldn’t help but giggle as well.
“I don’t think that’s compelling theology, hyung, but if it makes you happy, you go ahead and think that.”
“Just admit it, Jimin-ah. You’re wrong. The gods exist and they’re here and they care and we’re going to be alright. Just you wait.”
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It had taken two years for the invaders to take everything they could from the land, and three more for life to start again once they abandoned it to decay. Now, though, from his rock on top of the mountain Yoongi could see white smoke rising from chimneys once more, could follow the path of trundling carts along the roads between each growing settlement. He had taken Jimin down there a few times, to see how the people lived and to do what he could to help them. Although the abbey and the men who had raised him were gone, the skills he had learned remained and he had a lot to offer. If in time it meant he could earn a little money and make life a bit easier, that was a blessing too.
Life with Jimin had taken some time to adjust to. He had considered leaving after his revelation, heading north in the hopes of finding a new monastery and enfolding himself once more in the familiarity of an ordered life. He'd got as far as packing a small bag of food and reclaiming his boots from Jimin. When he had put them on to leave, though, it had all felt wrong. Officially, the boots had worn to Jimin's feet already and Yoongi refused to make a long journey in uncomfortable shoes. Jimin had accepted that excuse without fuss, thrilled to keep his companion, but they both knew that wasn't the real reason. After all, Jimin had watched Yoongi stumble into a mountain clearing with a sword wound on his arm, a dislocated shoulder and a broken sandal all for the sake of a small stone. Uncomfortable boots were hardly going to stop him leaving if he really wanted to.
For whatever reason, he had elected to stay, to learn how to live with just one person for company and without orders and punishments and bells to mark his day. Chasing chickens was also useful for catching rabbits, it turned out, and he taught Jimin the skills he needed to find food now that there weren't regular offerings to pilfer. Jimin taught him to dance, and sang real songs to him. He taught him to laugh again, and if anyone were to suggest they be parted now, he would probably growl at them and pull his dongsaeng behind him for protection.
The altar would always be special to him. When the weather was good, Jimin would often find him up there long past dark, listening to the waterfall or leaning against the tree. One autumn, he even convinced him to sit up on the altar itself.
("Hyung," he had whined, "don't leave me up here alone. If the gods didn't like it, they would have struck me down years ago. Live a little."
"Brat," Yoongi had muttered in reply, hiding his smile even as he climbed up onto the stone. Since he was yet to be blasted to smithereens, he figured he was alright to keep doing it.)
It was there that he was sat the day the monks returned to the mountain. The afternoon sunshine was lazy, winding its way through the apple tree's branches and kissing its growing fruit softly. Yoongi had brought a cushion and was leaned back against the tree trunk, legs stretched out across the altar and mind drifting when an outraged shout made him open one eye and smirk.
"Yah!" a tall stranger exclaimed, pulling his robes up with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he strode purposefully towards Yoongi. "Get off of there! Get down! That's a sacred altar!" Behind him was a group of four men, two looking nervous and carrying large baskets of food and one cradling a ceramic pot like it was glass while the last glared at him. Yoongi thought the glare might have something to do with the fact that the pot was missing one handle - which he located in the glarer's hand. Good to know every monastery had its own god of destruction.
"I take it you are the monks in charge of rebuilding the abbey?" Yoongi drawled, crossing his feet, completely unbothered by the new arrivals. Their leader halted in his striding, pulling his head back slightly in confusion.
"Uh - yes. That's us." One of the food bearers turned to the other with wide eyes, but received no more than a shrug in response. They looked very young - Yoongi hoped they were close. He thought he saw the one holding a pot begin to say 'hyung' and stop sheepishly when his hyung's heart-shaped mouth frowned even harder. Cute.
"Excellent." Hopping off the altar, Yoongi pulled a string from around his neck and took the stranger's hand. Unfurling crooked fingers, he placed the object in his palm and patted his shoulder familiarly, smiling at the gawk he got in return. "You'll need this, then. I've had it these past five years and I've been more blessed than I ever thought I would be. Guard it well, brother." He turned to walk away as the leader looked behind him, proffering the stone to one of his followers and saying, "Namjoon-ah, is this -" The answering gasp suggested they knew exactly what the stone meant.
"Oh, by the way," he called back at the corner where the path down to his and Jimin's cottage started. "If you ever need anything, just come here and leave a note. My friend and I will be happy to help. You never walk alone." With a soft smile, he disappeared around down the mountain and left them to their offerings.
(And if Jimin bounced home that evening with fine wine in a pot with a broken handle - well, Yoongi wouldn't be surprised.)
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that-one--book-nerd · 4 years ago
Text
because i believe in you (zukka)
this was originally posted to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519252
here’s a zukka thing I wrote! enjoy! :)
Sokka can’t pinpoint the exact moment he started feeling nervous around Zuko. Which is weird, and Sokka can’t figure out what his deal is.
Why would I feel nervous around Zuko? He just went on an insanely dangerous prison-break rescue mission with me? He’s clearly changed and is making actual efforts to be a better person. So why does my stomach start to twist in a not-awful way whenever I’m around him?
Sokka contemplates this the night after the Boiling Rock rescue. Everyone else is asleep, and he’s on his side, watching the fire slowly die out. On the opposite side of the fire lies Zuko, who has started to sleep in the main outdoor area with everyone else rather than hole himself up in his room on warm nights. Sokka shifts onto his other side, so he’s facing out into the forest. When he glances up, he sees the moon.  He always thinks of Yue when he looks at the moon. It used to hurt; he wasn’t able to stand the permanent reminder of one of his all-time worst failures. But over the past few months, as the wound in his heart slowly healed, he found the moon a comforting sight. Sokka was drifting off when suddenly, the weird feeling in his stomach made sense.
Oh, shit, he thinks to himself as his eyes snap open. He quickly turns back around to face Zuko, as if daring his heart to prove him wrong. When his heart speeds up at the sight of Zuko looking more peaceful and young than Sokka had ever seen him—spirits, we’re nearly the same age, aren’t we?—Sokka feels his stomach drop into the center of the earth and his heart leap into his throat.
••••••••••
“You never loved me, huh, Zuko?” Mai asks, her voice so much more emotionless and cold than normal that it sends a chill running up and down Zuko’s spine.
“Mai, no, I’m sorry, I just—it’s not—”
“Not what? Not my fault? Yeah, no shit, Zuko,” Mai snaps. Her arms are crossed. She’s standing over him, he’s tied up in the chair in the interrogation room in the Boiling Rock. He pushes down the tears welling up in his eyes.
“Of course it’s not your fault, Mai. I just…I couldn’t be there any more.” Zuko does his damnedest to not sound like he’s about to cry.
“First your uncle, now me. Which loved one are you going to turn against next, Zuko? Is there even anyone left who would care enough about you?”
“Mai,” Zuko starts, the pit of dread eating through his stomach so slowly yet as fast as Azula’s wit and lightning.
“I doubt it. After all the horrible shit you’ve done, I’m surprised your father ever wanted you back.” She leaned down and looked at Zuko right in the eyes as she continued, “He probably didn’t and just had you return to give off a merciful facade.”
Mai’s words feel like hundreds of thousands of knives cutting into his face and chest. He’s crying in earnest now, gasping for breath against the ropes that seem to tighten around him every second. He’s shaking his head, trying to tell Mai that he’s so, so sorry.
Mai leans down so her face is mere inches away from his. He can feel her breath. He can’t help but look into her eyes. Her eyes, which are full of pain and betrayal and rage.
“Ozai regrets giving you that scar Zuko,” Mai whispers. She grabs a handful of his hair from the back of his head and somehow tugs Zuko and the chair above the ground. She stands up straight and holds Zuko at eye-level. She pulls him close so that she speaks into Zuko’s ear.
“I wish I killed you that day, three years ago. The only decision I’ve ever regretted was letting you live.”
But Mai’s not Mai any more. When she stood, she grew taller. Her facial features grotesquely morphed into that of his father’s. Zuko can feel every single particle in his body shaking with terror.
“How dare you even consider the possibility that I could ever love you? That I could ever care about you? You’re a damned disgrace to your nation and to firebending as a concept. I should have just ended your pathetic and worthless life when you surrendered like the coward you are.”
Suddenly, the room is on fire. The ropes are digging deep into his skin. He can’t escape. And an enormous hand made of flames begins rushing towards his face—
••••••••••
Zuko wakes up crying. He sits up at an unnatural speed, and for a moment, he forgets where he is. He feels like he’s falling into an endless abyss. He shakes his head and lets his eyes adjust to the brightness. Seeing the number of concerned people rush up to him, he remembers where he is.
“Zuko!” Aang calls out, running up to him. “Are you okay?”
Katara, Toph, Suki, and Sokka aren’t far behind. Despite her evident distrust of him, Zuko thinks he sees something that looks like worry etched across Katara’s face. Suki runs at a faster pace as she approaches him.
They were probably all training, Zuko thinks to himself. He doesn’t have the mental space or energy to beat himself up over not being there training with them and helping Aang with firebending, or oversleeping and not gathering supplies they might need.
Zuko furiously wipes his eyes. “I’m fine,” he manages to get out.
“I don’t need my powers to know that you’re lying,” Toph says, kneeling down next to him.
Zuko takes a shaky breath. “It’s just nightmares,” he says. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Aang asks. “It sounded like a really bad one.”
Sokka and Suki kneels down next to him on his other side. Out of the corner of his good eye, Zuko can see Suki slowly raise her hand to place on his shoulder. Instinctively, he tenses up, and Suki’s hand stops before she places it in her lap.
“…It was,” Zuko quietly admits. “They happen all the time. I’m fine. Go back to doing whatever you guys were doing.”
After a few seconds of scanning him with her steely eyes, Katara quietly sighs. In another universe, she’d be an incredible firebender.
“I have some clean water if you need it. You know, to drink, splash on your face, whatever.” She sets her canteen next to him.
“No, thank you,” Zuko says. He’s trying to learn how to accept gifts and kind offers, but he feels like he can’t ask any more of his…friends, he supposes.
Yeah, these people are my friends, he tells himself. He knows it’s true, but it still doesn’t feel real.
“Well, it’ll be on my sleeping bag if you want it.” Katara picks up her canteen and gently tosses it on her makeshift pillow. She doesn’t look back at him. Suki gives him a sympathetic smile before rejoining Katara.
“Well, we’re here for you if you need anything, Zuko,” Aang offers. He follows after Katara, but he keeps glancing back over his shoulder, like he’s worried that if he looks away for too long then Zuko will freak out again. Zuko closes his eyes and counts to ten as he breathes. He tries the calming techniques that Uncle had taught him, but he couldn’t remember if if was inhale for four seconds and exhale for three, or the other way around, or—
“You coming, Sokka?” Aang calls out.
Zuko opens his eyes to find that Sokka didn’t leave with the others; rather he was still sitting next to Zuko, leaning back on his arms and his head tilted slightly to the side, as if he was studying Zuko. When Zuko meets Sokka’s eyes, Sokka blinks and startles and nearly falls over.
“What? Oh, uh, I’m good. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
Katara narrows her eyebrows at Sokka, but Aang just smiles and says “Okay! See ya later, Sokka!” as he cheerfully glides past Katara. Katara finally rejoins the rest of the group after glaring at her brother and the banished prince for what feels like weeks.
For a moment, it’s just Zuko and Sokka. They’re both quiet, both a bit unsure of what they’re doing, until Sokka clears his throat.
“I, uh, I found a clearing not far from the other side of the temple,” Sokka starts as he fidgets with his boomerang holster. “Wanna go practice sword-bending?”
Zuko raises his eyebrows.
“There’s a stream that flows through it, and there’s a small freshwater pond with koi,” Sokka continues.
Is he blushing? Zuko thinks to himself, squinting, trying to get a better look at the exact color of Sokka’s face.
“Okay,” Zuko replies—and immediately mentally kicks himself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Say something nice, like ‘thank you,’ or…Oh! how about—
“I mean, uh, thank you for the offer. I’d…I’d love to join you. For…sword-bending.”
Sokka’s face lights up and it reminds Zuko of the sun. He feels himself blush and immediately turns away to get his dual-swords. As he’s readying the straps on his sheaths, he forces himself to push down the rising feelings of butterfly-birds in his stomach.
I shouldn’t—no, I can’t—put someone through that again. All I did to Mai was hurt her, I can’t do that to Sokka. He deserves someone better for him…he deserves someone who deserves him.
Zuko tried to nail these ideas into every part of his brain, but the beating of his heart kept causing them to fall and break.
••••••••••
“Okay…can we…take a breather…please?!” Sokka gasps in between his exhausted breathing.
Zuko nods and they collapse onto their backs next to each other, both staring up at the sky. The sun had already made its arc over them and it was just starting to set. They had been training for hours, and they finally decided to rest next to the small pond.
“We should probably start heading back soon,” Zuko suggests. “You sister will get mad.”
“Eh, let her be mad. We were training our bending abilities!”
Zuko raises a single eyebrow.
“‘We’?” he asks
“We’re all sort of benders in a way,” Sokka jokes, turning on his side to face Zuko. “Katara has her waterbending, Aang has his airbending, Toph has her earthbending, you have your firebending, and I—” Sokka pulls out his favorite weapon “—have my boomerang-bending!”
“I thought you said ‘sword-bending’ earlier?” Zuko replies, his mouth curling into a small smile.
“Well, this is my boomerang, and I like the sound of ‘boomerang-bending’ more than I like ‘sword-bending,’” Sokka smirks.
“Nah,” Zuko gently nudges his foot against Sokka’s. “‘Sword-bending’ is catchier.”
“Well, maybe it is, but I like ‘boomerang-bending’ better! Besides, I’m better at boomerang-bending than you’ll ever be,” Sokka says as he nudge’s Zuko’s arm. “I’m a boomerang-bending master!”
Both of them pretend like their casual touches don’t feel like a small electric shock of warmth. Zuko and Sokka both chuckle.
“Well, you’re right about that,” Zuko replies, easing himself up. Sokka also sits up properly, and the two boys face each other.
Zuko looks into Sokka’s eyes for what feels like hours, and Sokka looks into Zuko’s eyes intently, studying them as if they’re the last thing he’ll ever see.
They’ve been subconsciously moving towards each other before Zuko blinks, stops, and clears his throat. Sokka blinks and gives Zuko a quizzical look.
“What’s wrong?” Sokka asks.
“Nothing,” Zuko replies, quickly looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his fingers.
Sokka looks down at the ground and begins drawing swirls in the dirt. He draws (what Zuko can only assume are) boomerangs, waves, and flames.
“I, uh…” Zuko starts, not meeting Sokka’s eyes as the other boy’s head shot up to look at Zuko. “I want to thank you.”
“Oh, no problem. We all need to be training for when the comet arrives. Gotta be on our A-game for taking down the Fire Lord!”
Zuko can’t keep himself from chuckling a little bit.
“That’s not what I wanted to thank you for. And you do realize that when—if—you defeat my father, that either I or my sister will take the throne next?”
Sokka doesn’t miss how Zuko’s voice grows slightly more unsteady as he speaks about the possible future.
“Why wouldn’t you take the throne?”
“Have you met my sister?”
“Fair enough.”
“And even if there was no succession crisis, you guys realize that I’ll be the new Fire Lord, right?”
“Yeah, and what about it?”
Zuko’s ember-golden eyes meets Sokka’s ocean blue ones.
“What do you mean ‘what about it?,’ Sokka?! I can’t be the Fire Lord! I don’t know how to lead an entire nation! Let alone one whose current legacy is that of imperialism, destruction, and genocide! And ending the war that my great-grandfather started? The war that the Fire Nation is currently winning—”
“Well, I’d say we’re almost tied—”
Zuko rolls his eyes.
“The war that’s been going on for a whole century that my whole nation has been in support of for its entire duration! How will it look to my subjects when I end the war that’s been providing them with their entire livelihoods?! I know that they should get new livelihoods—that sounds like something you’d say—” (Sokka nods) “but it’s not that easy! And what about the conquered territories? How can I help them? Will they even want my help? And what about—”
“Hey!”
Sokka interrupts a clearly overwhelmed Zuko by placing his left hand on Zuko’s cheek and his right hand on Zuko’s shoulder. The touch came naturally to Sokka, who’s used to grabbing Katara by the face whenever she gets overworked and needs a clear head. He’s able to tell his right hand to not touch Zuko’s scar, thankfully. He doesn’t fear it, but he doesn’t want to find out from experience if Zuko reacts negatively to other people touching his scar. Sokka stares deep into Zuko’s eyes, which are starting to tear up. Sokka feels his heart crack and it takes every remaining ounce of self control he has to not physically wince at the pain of Zuko crying. Sokka begins rubbing tiny circles into Zuko’s cheek, and Zuko practically leans into the touch as he closes his eyes. Zuko brings his hand up to Sokka’s and places his other hand on Sokka’s knee. He’s not sure if he feels Sokka shiver or his own hands shaking. (It’s both.)
“Hey,” Sokka says again, quieter. Zuko opens his eyes and finds Sokka intently staring at him.
“Look, Zuko, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re, like, already a better Fire Lord than your dad. You clearly care about your people as people and not as a means to an end—that end being like power or whatever. If you carry that attitude with you throughout your reign, you’re going to be the best spirits-damned Fire Lord in the history of all the nations. I know it, Zuko.” Sokka’s voice quiets as he takes a deep breath and finishes with: “I believe in you.”
Zuko thinks about how easy it would be to get lost in Sokka’s eyes, and then realizes that he is lost in Sokka’s eyes.
Sokka isn’t sure what brings him to pull Zuko more towards him, and Zuko doesn’t know why he simply lets himself be pulled, but they both know that this is exactly where they’re supposed to be—together.
Sokka closes the remaining distance between them by pressing his lips against Zuko’s.
Zuko feels himself falling, but this time it’s a good feeling.
Because he knows that somehow, Sokka will catch him.
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magicalforcesau · 4 years ago
Text
Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 16 - Year 2: December
(ao3 links)
Sidious always enjoyed maintaining collections.
He always considered himself a keen eye for artwork- taking special care to decorate and surround his space with intricate and often overlooked pieces that a meager outsider would deem worthless. As usual, their ignorance served to his benefit, allowing him to broaden a priceless treasure trove just beneath their noses. In a sense, it was most enjoyable that way- to accrue artwork and artifacts fundamental to preserving and cultivating the future of the Sith and for them to be none the wiser.
Little did they understand that the best costumes were woven with truth.
So, they could have their foolish little jokes about the junk he chose to decorate his environment with. They would not be laughing so merrily when the abstract paintings of enemy bloodshed cease to be so foreign to them. The carefully hidden devices that could provide centuries of torment would be useful one day.
As well as contingency plans that they might never know, because Sidious was nothing if not pragmatic.
He ran a long finger along a small wooden prism that sat upon his mantle, lips twitching upwards when it glowed red at his touch. He rolled it around his hand, practically shaking at the pure heat that emanated through him. Like Sidious, its walls remained intact and its passion while brimming at the surface, secured by purpose.
He took a deep breath and returned it to its place beside a cube that he didn’t need to touch to know it would not respond to him with such fervor, let alone at all. To him alone, it had no meaning.
But he would not be alone forever and he never did anything without meaning.
Sidious walked to his desk, taking a seat behind it as he took in his collection of pictures, each from a different era with different allies. Tyranus, of course, stood beside him in one of them, though surrounded by other faculty to maintain plausible deniability. Still, he couldn’t help but grimace at his supposed partner. It was no secret to him that Tyranus was taking his own measures. He would be dealt with should his insolence become too much of a problem for Sidious.
His yellow eyes drifted yet again to a picture only he knew to be cropped, one where there was once a Dathmorian smiling ferociously. He had half a mind to return it to its natural form, but as it were, there was no room on his desk for failure.
Besides, as he pulled out a fresh frame, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of giddiness overtake him.
He would need the space for the newest piece of his collection.
***
“I was under the impression that we were forbidding any holiday soirees this year.” Qui-Gon frowned and looked to his fellow Head of Houses for support, knowing he would find no such assistance from Palpatine in this particular situation.
“It’s hardly even that.” Palpatine said kindly, “It’s an academic dinner! And a necessary one, if I must say so myself.”
“And I have a feeling you will.” Qui-Gon muttered, earning him a warning look from Yoda, who always tried to remain neutral on such matters. “Regardless of intent, do you not see the hypocrisy of staging any sort of gathered event on school grounds when everything else has been banned?”
Including Qui-Gon’s own party, which this was only partially about.
“I’d say there’s a stark difference between a quiet dinner for 12-14 people and what has essentially become a rave over the years.” Palpatine countered with the barest traces of a smile, “And no offense to your own event, Professor Jinn, but do you not recall what happened last year at your party?”
Qui-Gon gritted his teeth, but held his tongue as the other professors eyed him carefully. He didn’t need to garner a reputation for throwing a tantrum every time something didn’t go his way, especially when it was being framed that he merely wanted to have his own holiday party.
“I am not saying mine or any other such parties should occur this year on property,” He said, “But if we are battening down the hatches, I don’t see why your academic dinner is exempt from the rules.”
“It’s essentially a networking event, Professor Jinn,” Palpatine twiddled his long fingers, “It would seem incredibly unfair to deprive Hogwarts’ best from learning how to navigate their futures.”
“Not a single person in this room received any such favoritism and I would say we turned out just fine,” Qui-Gon said, because really, at the core this was what it was all about. Every year, Palpatine hosted a private dinner for who he felt were the most prestigious and skilled witches and wizards of their year. This did not necessarily mean their grades or academic place guaranteed them a spot. It all depended on who Palpatine saw potential in.
“If I could possibly invite the whole student body, you know that I would.” The older man said with sympathetic gray eyes.
“Understand, I do.” Yoda nodded sagely, “Danger or not, continue school must, but safety precautions, there must be.”
“We’ll ensure it’s monitored.” Windu said with a curt nod, but whether it was meant for Qui-Gon or Palpatine was up for debate, “10 people tops, that includes plus one’s, and it will need to be over by curfew.”
“Ah yes, because Maul won’t show up until 10 pm.” Qui-Gon snorted, which earned him a glare from Windu this time. Shaak Ti, to her credit, seemed to be withholding a quiet laugh of her own.
“And all of us will monitor the dinner.” She said calmly, “We can’t take any chances by leaving students vulnerable.”
Qui-Gon eased a bit at that, though he still bristled at the way Palpatine’s smile took full form and then shrugged at him as though he were helpless to the decision. He’d never had any contempt for the older man, but he never appreciated smugness in any form.
“I’ll have to shorten my list a tad, but that can be done.” He nodded slowly.
As they were dismissed, Qui-Gon wasn’t surprised when Yoda asked him to stay back. After the door shut behind Palpatine and he was left alone with the little green Headmaster, he couldn’t help but feel like a student ready to receive detention.
“Feel your frustration, I do.” He said, “Find anything, have you?”
“No necklace.” Qui-Gon only stuttered a little bit, surprised that he wasn’t being chastised, “Though it no doubt came from Dooku’s office. And I’d know it if I saw it.”
“Scoured over everything in there, the aurors have.” Yoda said grimly, “Missing, a necklace was.”
“That’s what Anakin said too.” Qui-Gon revealed and off the curious look Yoda was giving him, he sighed, “I promised him immunity from punishment should he be honest about anything he knew.”
“Hm,” Yoda tapped his fingers on his desk, “Blame him for curiosity, I do not. Many close calls last year, he had.”
“That seems to be a bit of an understatement, Headmaster.” Qui-Gon said and stroked his beard.
“Twice as vulnerable, the boy is.” Yoda said, “After him, Maul is.”
He did know this. The entire school did after the display Maul’s “delivery” made. Aurors through the Ministry were able to detect that not only did the blade belong to Maul, but that the markings on the dagger were strangely reminiscent of an ancient diatribe. Qui-Gon knew they were dancing around calling it like it was: a Sith artifact.
“For what reason?” Qui-Gon scowled, “Maul cares not for prophecy or rules. Anakin is a twelve year old boy and hardly a challenge for him.”
“Tasked with finding that out, I am leaving you.” Yoda pushed his chair out from beneath his desk and stood. When he did, only the very top of his head was visible from where Qui-Gon stood. Using his cane, he hobbled around to stand in front of Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, “And why not Windu?”
He didn’t mean to sound like he didn’t accept the task. Quite the opposite, of course. He would have likely found himself involved anyway as it was in his nature. That being said, he certainly didn’t have the professional investigative experience that Mace had.
“Trust you, the boy does.” Yoda said matter-of-factly, “Because Shmi trusted you, the reason he goes here is.”
Qui-Gon was sure that was meant to be empowering motivation, but instead, his mind was taken back to the dark dreams Shmi told him of last winter holiday and how scarily they matched the ones Anakin had mentioned, not to mention the recurrence of snakes. He thought about how desperately Shmi did not want her son to be involved with the wizarding world and why now that seemed to not be so ridiculous on paper.
Still, he knew Anakin’s and the rest of the community’s best hope was to continue his training.
“That is true,” Qui-Gon said with a heavy sigh, “But Headmaster, we need to be able to ensure the boy’s safety for that trust to persist.”
“Agree, I do.” Yoda said, “Maul cannot get in, as long as here, I am.”
It was true. While small in stature and old in age, Headmaster Yoda was the most formidable foe to a loose cannon like Maul, who surely did not have enough hubris to believe he would be capable of taking down the ancient Headmaster. He was once a student at Hogwarts, after all, and had to know of the Headmaster’s abilities.
However, there was a far off look in Yoda’s eyes that did not bestow much confidence in Qui-Gon. There was something he wasn’t saying. Or perhaps, it was meant to be assumed.
“And you’re not going anywhere, are you?” He asked slowly.
His long ears tilted downwards and he sighed heavily, “On my own accord, I will not.”
Then, it dawned on Qui-Gon, “The Ministry?”
“A strong case of my failures, many lawyers are making.” He said, “Feel that prepared, I am not, to defend the school.”
“That’s preposterous, Headmaster!” Qui-Gon growled, “If anything, we’re sitting ducks without you!”
Yoda’s disposition steeled, “No! Strength, there are in numbers. Make this school, I do not. Protect it, you and the others will if you must.”
While there was nothing presently happening and no final words were said, Qui-Gon felt like his heart was racing beneath his chest. Did no one see what was transpiring all around them?
“There must be one of Dooku’s plants in the Ministry.” He said, “The Sith are rising and gathering numbers to try and weaken us.”
Yoda fiddled with the hilt of the sword that always stuck out of the large vase near his desk, twiddling it between his little fingers. It was designed as though meant to be wielded by Yoda, himself, though Qui-Gon never really came to such a realization until now.
“Many forms, evil takes,” He confirmed, “Are Sith, not all of them are. In the deliberately blind, bigoted, and silent, it lies. Fester, it will. Be vigilant, we must.”
***
“And remember class, your project on the fundamental purposes of gillyweed is due next Monday.” Palpatine smiled at the class, “I look forward to seeing what sort of creative functionalities you all come up with.”
Anakin hadn’t noticed that class dismissed and it seemed Rex wasn’t bothered much to let him know, leaving him staring into empty space as students filtered out of the room. He only blinked back into reality when his professor walked up and gently knocked on the desk in front of him, as though it were a door he was requesting admission through.
He flicked his head up, mind scrambling for an excuse to land on for being so lost in space, but found he had trouble lying to the older man.
“Oh, sorry, Professor!” He slid from his chair and stood up, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“How are you doing, Anakin?” Palpatine placed a hand on his shoulder and appeared to be studying him. “Really doing; not just what you might tell your other professors.”
“Well, I’m sure you heard of the little note Maul sent me.” He said with a shrug, “They confirmed that the blood on it was that Adi Gallia that he murdered at the prison.”
It was impressive that he’d managed to say that without gagging as he had the many times his thoughts reverted back to the moment. He had to blink a few times to shake away the images his brain had conjured up in his sleep. He’d heard the reports on how Maul picked off each of the guards on duty that night and it hadn’t been pleasant.
“He’s a sick individual, Anakin. And it’s just awful how he treated those poor guards.” Palpatine said, “But rest assured, no harm can befall you so long as Headmaster Yoda is on the premises.”
Anakin perked up, “Really?”
“But of course!” He said and twisted his own lips into a smile, “I’m not sure where this school would be without him, but I can assure you, he is a force that Maul would not dare to cross.”
Anakin relaxed at that, “I suppose I should be learning from him then. You know, if I’m to be a hero one day.”
“In my opinion, Anakin,” Palpatine poked his chest, “You are already a hero. And it is for that reason amongst countless others that I am formally inviting you to my annual academic banquet.”
“That’s awesome!” Anakin scratched the back of his neck, “Only, uh… What is it?”
He chuckled, “Only an exclusive dinner party hosted by yours truly. It’s reserved for only the witches and wizards, usually older, that I deem exemplary amongst their peers. It’s a way to recognize their hard work.”
“And you think I’m worthy of that?” Anakin asked.
Palpatine chuckled, “I would be a fool not to invite such a brilliant and promising young lad such as yourself. You may be significantly younger than the rest of the attendees, but I assure you that your skills match their own.”
Pride swelled through Anakin so suddenly that he found it quite difficult not to appear shocked. Still, he figured no one else but Palpatine was around, so it was likely acceptable this time. Besides, his mother always taught him not to expect gifts or invitations from anyone, even if it seemed deserved.
“Wow, this is an honor, sir.” He said, “Thank you.”
“No need for thanking me.” He insisted, “It is my pleasure to host! Now, it is usually a more formal event, so be sure you and your guest are dressed appropriately. You ought to look the part of the chosen one.”
“My guest?” He asked.
“Ah yes, invite whoever you like, but remember, they are to represent you!” He wagged a finger at him, “Not everyone is cut from the same cloth, shame as that might be. So choose carefully!”
Despite having never heard of such an event, he knew this would be a meaningful night and wanted so terribly for Palpatine to be right. Clearly, the seasoned professor saw something in Anakin if he already belonged amongst the most elite brilliant wizards at a banquet in their honor. He did not want to mess this up.
***
“Looking good up there,” Miraj Scintel, a Slytherin fourth year who was almost alarmingly feline in nature and physicality, purred from a position on the bleachers. Anakin hadn’t even noticed her thanks to the howling wind and the freezing rain that decided to bestow itself upon them for practice.
“Oh, hey!” He hoped he was smiling, but his face was feeling pretty numb from the cold. He forgot his scarf again and was going to be annoyed if he caught a cold. His mum certainly wouldn’t let him hear the end of that, or worse: Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him hear the end of that.
“I always knew you were gifted, Skywalker,” She smiled, bearing sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into her prey. Anakin knew that wasn’t him, due to his own powers that couldn’t be stopped, so he didn’t fear her. He just hovered nearby on his broom. He preferred being off the ground anyway.
“Thanks! Cody says we stand a good chance of a comeback.”
“As a Slytherin, I’m pretty sure commenting on that would be treasonous.” She said smoothly.
He wondered if the smooth beige fur that lined her skin protected her from the cold in the winter or worse, if it made summers brutal. He knew it was rude to ask, but he’d have to ask Obi-Wan later. He certainly wasn’t going to waste time looking it up in a big book.
“You guys were lucky we weren’t in the right headspace.” Anakin challenged.
“I’m sure,” She laughed, “I don’t play so… I don’t have much stakes in the game aside from knowing true power and talent when I see it.”
“Really?”
“Indeed,” She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes fixated on his, “And my father has an in with the Bulgarian professional team.”
Anakin didn’t even know where Bulgar was located, but it sounded impressive. Not wanting to sound dumb, he nodded and made sure to give her the kind of awe that she obviously sought out with such a reveal.
“Maybe I could tell him about you.” She shrugged, “If you keep doing such amazing things.”
“I don’t know if you’ll need to,” He smirked, “I am the chosen one.”
“That you are,” She raised an eyebrow at him, “In more ways than one. I suppose the true question, is who are you going to choose?”
“For what?” Anakin frowned.
“To take to the moon with you, Anakin.” She said as though it were obvious, “That broom looks like it's built for two at maximum capacity.”
He looked behind him and thought about that. He knew it was a metaphor, but he really only ever pictured Padmé riding on the back of his broom. He’d never admit that out loud, because it sounded incredibly corny and also impossible for his present image.
“Oh, I’m not planning on falling in love or anything like that, sorry.” He said honestly. He didn’t want Miraj to get the wrong idea.
“Who said anything about love?” She scoffed. “Love is for the weak. No, what you need is a co-conspirator.”
***
Cody massaged his temples as he tried to will himself the strength to focus on the textbook in front of him. For what had to be the millionth time, he pondered why there weren’t any memory spells that could assist in studying. Even magic had its limitations, sure, but there were spells to erase one’s memory. Why not the opposite?
With a dejected sigh, he slammed his head down to the pages.
“I know I say do whatever works, but I’m not sure that’s an effective study method.” Satine commented as she sat down next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know that Kenobi slid in the seat across from her and likely had a smirk that matched her own.
“You could shove this book straight between my ears and I still wouldn’t get it.” Cody groaned.
One of them patted him on the shoulder- presumably Kenobi by the firmness of it, while the other poked him.
“Once again, I think you’re just being too hard on yourself,” Kenobi said, “Over-thinking has never served you well.”
“Yeah you’ve always thrived on instinct.” Satine said with a nudge, “It’s like remembering Quidditch plays.”
“This is nothing like Quidditch.” Cody tilted his head up enough to lean on his hands, “If it were, I’d be attending Palpatine’s precious pet banquet with the lot of you.”
“Not to worry, Cody, I’m also not attending.” Satine said as she flipped open her own book rather indignantly.
“And just what are you protesting this time?” Kenobi asked.
Had Cody not been too busy commiserating, he would have likely asked the same question, but he was glad he didn’t, because it was immediately apparent that it was the wrong question.
“First of all, I’m not sure I appreciate the underlying exasperation in your tone.” She said, “Just because I choose to stand against social injustice does not make me some annoying zealot. Secondly, I am not protesting anything, because I wasn’t invited.”
Cody’s head shot up completely this time in a mixture of shock and affront. Kenobi seemed just as surprised too, because he didn’t even offer a counter-argument to Satine’s earlier point. They shared a look of disbelief before turning to her for an explanation that never came.
After a moment of likely feeling their gazes burning through her skull, she finally looked up, perturbed that she was interrupted from whatever nonsense she’d gotten herself into reading.
“What?”
“That’s impossible!” Cody complained, “Surely, there’s some sort of mistake.”
“Seriously, you’re top of our class.” Kenobi said, before finishing, “Besides me.”
She rolled her eyes, “Believe it or not, Ben, Palpatine doesn’t exactly choose based on academic placement, alone. He’s chosen quite a few bimbos in the past, actually. Sure, academia helps, but you need status in order to catch his gaze. And conveniently enough, he never invites muggle borns.”
“Are you sure about that?” Cody asked, “He’s never struck me as the sort to think so… What’s the term?”
“Single-mindedly? Aristocratically? Bigoted? Subservient to an archaic belief of blood superiority? I could go on if you need more.” Satine listed them off with such ease that Cody realized she must have thought about them more often than either he or Kenobi could fathom. Such a realization both saddened and surprised him, and even more so when he realized he shouldn’t be all that surprised in the first place.
“That’s not right.” Kenobi pinched his chin thoughtfully, “Perhaps, he was limited in spaces.”
“Well, he had no problem inviting your mentee.” She said pointedly, “Who is twelve years old, need I remind you.”
“Anakin made the cut?” His eyes widened. “Usually, only sixth and seventh years are invited.”
“Did you even pay attention to the list? Or did you stop when you saw your name at the top?” She asked. “Of course he did. He’s the chosen one! While a half-blood raised in the muggle world, his prophetic background immediately moves him to the A-list.”
“Palpatine’s pals.” Cody whistled, “An elite breed for a young kid.”
Kenobi seemed to consider that for a long moment and by the end of his line of thoughts, it was unclear what his opinion on that matter ended up being. Like many times, he transitioned topics and kept his face neutral. If he wasn’t already set on being an auror, Cody would have suggested he become an actor.
“Well, it makes no difference in the end, I suppose.” He said, “I assumed you would be going with me anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Satine asked.
Cody couldn’t believe it. He looked back and forth between the two of them in amusement. Was this how it was going to happen? It was a lot less theatrical than he’d expected, seeing as the two of them seemed to always be quarreling when they weren’t “secretly” fawning over the other. He expected it to go a lot of ways, but never with Kenobi so casually putting it out on the table.
“We get plus one’s.” He shrugged, “Perhaps, that’s why Palpatine excluded you from the list. He figured I would automatically bring you because of our relationship.”
Satine raised an eyebrow, “Our relationship?”
“We’re friends.” He said slowly, as though he might have been reminding himself of that fact too.
Not the correct thing to say.
Satine clenched her jaw, “Yes, well, how was I to even know this little arrangement would be happening if you were never intending on mentioning it?”
“I’m mentioning it now.” Kenobi said. “It’s not like it’s a date or anything.”
Cody wondered how someone so smart could say the wrong thing so often.
“Yes, that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” Satine said.
Kenobi seemed utterly dumbfounded, “Did you want it to be a-”
“-Why would I want that?” She cut him off immediately and Cody found himself bobbing his head back and forth between them. Sometimes, it felt like he was watching an exciting ping pong match.
“I don’t know.” Kenobi said, though he had the decency to look a bit offended by her immediate dismissal, “It’s hardly anything more than a networking event. You would likely hate the whole experience, anyway.”
“You are really selling this evening to me.” She frowned.
“You don’t have to come if you do not wish,” Kenobi said, though Cody could see his best friend stiffen, “It was just an offer.”
“And what an offer it is!” She flared, placing both hands on the table as though prepared to launch herself to her feet for a dramatic exit, “An offhand comment suggesting I essentially be your tag-a-along to an event that I was deliberately overlooked for. Sign me up! I should be so lucky to be your casual pick. You truly know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Satine-” He didn’t get very far, of course. When she was on a roll, she was on a roll.
“What were you going to do the night of the party if I had already found a date?” She steamrolled, now half-standing as she leaned forward towards him, “Or was that never an actual possibility in that head of yours? Answer wisely.”
Kenobi stammered, though Cody noticed he was obviously bothered by the implication, “Did you have someone you’d rather go with than your best friend?”
“Perhaps, I did!” She thundered.
Kenobi reverberated for a moment as though he suffered terrible whiplash before finally saying, “Well, it’s not a date anyway so-”
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, which works out quite nicely for me,” She said as she fully stood, “Seeing as it’s not a date and I’m a friend, which apparently means I’m unworthy of any notice, formal invitation, or courtesy. So, as a friend, I’ll feel no guilt in standing you up.”
“Well- fine!” Kenobi said back, “I’ll find someone else to go! Someone less mad!”
“Good luck with that!” She grinned sardonically as she turned to take her leave, “Because anyone who agrees to go with your passive arrogance would have to be bloody insane.”
Kenobi opened his mouth and shut it again, annoyed that she’d managed to get the last word in before she was fully gone- a tactic both have used in the past. Everyone in the library, including Jocasta Nu, was shooting unsure looks towards their table. He didn’t seem to notice from where he stewed, keeping his eyes trained on where she left.
“So, who are you going to ask?” Cody asked.
Kenobi groaned and flopped his head down towards his textbook with a thud.
“You wouldn’t happen to be interested in a free dinner, would you?” His voice was muffled from the book, but Cody always understood the language of food.
Despite how it might not resonate well with Satine, Cody couldn’t not agree to those terms. Unlike her, he would rather it not be a date.
***
“Rex, guess what?” Anakin came barreling into the Gryffindor common room with a burst of excitement that Rex had grown used to over the year and half of knowing his friend. Still, they hadn’t been hanging out nearly as much as they used to, so he found himself quite surprised to be the recipient of such grand news.
“What?” He asked, closing his History of Magic textbook for the night. He knew if Anakin got enthusiastic enough, that he would not be returning to his homework for tonight.
“I got invited to Palpatine’s Academic Bash!” He pressed his hands into the armrest of the couch, using it for stability as he bounced up and down.
“His… What?” Rex frowned. He distinctly recalled that unofficial school holiday events were banned per Headmaster Yoda’s call for safety. It was not lost on Rex that such safety measures were likely designed with Anakin in mind, specifically.
��It’s this end of the term banquet that he has with his most esteemed students where we all get dressed up and eat a bunch of fancy foods. It’s basically a big networking event where Palpatine helps set the older students up with connections to make them successful beyond Hogwarts.”
“And why are you invited, then?” Rex asked, much to Anakin’s incredulousness.
“Hello?” He gestured to himself, “Chosen One? Have you forgotten?”
“How could I? You scarcely let me do so.” He deadpanned, “I still don’t get why you would even want to go to that sort of thing. Sounds much more up Obi-Wan’s alley.”
“Well, he’s invited too, of course.” Anakin waved a hand, “It’s usually exclusive to sixth years and seventh years.”
All of the students that were amongst Palpatine’s “pals” as they were often referred to by outsiders, were all exceptionally gifted and intelligent witches and wizards. He didn’t see how Rex could be so confused by Anakin’s being lumped in with them. Sure, he was younger, but in terms of power and potential, he was right there.
“Still sounds stuffy.” Rex shrugged.
“Well,” Anakin couldn’t help but deflate a bit, annoyed that Rex wasn’t immediately leaping to his level of excitement, “Since it’s an academic event, the school is allowing it, so it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”
“I suppose.” Rex said.
“I thought about asking Padmé to go with me, but I don’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Anakin said, “Can’t have her falling in love with me. That would make things far too complicated.”
“I’m sure.” Rex snorted, “Well, if you need someone to endure the bureaucratic dribble with I guess-”
“-Miraj Scintel would probably want to go.” Anakin tapped his chin.
“What?”
“Miraj Scintel.” Anakin said simply, “You know, my friend from Slytherin house. 4th year Miraj? Super pretty, but not my type? You know, the popular girl who I’ve been sitting with at Dueling Club-”
“-I know who she is.” Rex spat, “Why are you taking her?”
Anakin sat on the armrest, “I dunno, we’re friends. I think she’d like it.”
“And what about me?” He asked.
Anakin frowned, “You just said you didn’t want to go.”
“You didn’t invite me! I thought you were just bragging.”
“When do I do that?”
“All of the time!” Rex said, “Were you even going to ask me anyway?”
Anakin paused and Rex launched up from where he’d been sitting on the couch.
“You weren’t, were you?” He accused.
“I never said that!” Anakin said, “I would just rather bring someone who wants to go is all. Plus, Miraj fits in a bit better with that crowd of people.”
“And I don’t?”
“Not really.” Anakin shrugged, “You always choose to hang back or walk away whenever I’m with my new friends.”
“Is that how you see it?” He laughed sardonically, “Boy are you full of it, you know that?”
“What are you on about?” Anakin crossed his arms.
“What am I on about? I haven’t been walking away from you! You haven’t invited me once to hang with you and your new friends. You keep flaunting this Chosen One title around like it’s such a great thing when in reality, it sounds like it’s only going to get really scary from here on out. I mean, my family has gone to Hogwarts for years and the professors have never seen it fit to have a club where students basically learn to fight.”
Anakin frowned, “I’m not flaunting anything around. I am the Chosen One. That’s what I am. And Chosen Ones are heroes, who don’t cower down from the future or when things get bad. Neither do Gryffindors in general, actually.”
“I’m not cowering down. I’m just trying to be realistic!” Rex barked back.
“I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like having all eyes depending on you to be brave, but that is the reality.” Anakin shrugged, “And a real friend would support me on that.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rex all but shouted, throwing his books aside, “Ever since this whole thing started, you’ve been ditching me like I’m Flobberworm fodder to you.”
“No, you have taken every opportunity to either avoid me or lash out any time anyone else treats me nice!”
“That’s because they’re only being nice to you because you’re the Chosen One!”
“That’s not true!” Anakin said and pointed a firm finger at his seething friend, “You’re just jealous that everyone likes me now.”
“But I liked you before any of that!” Rex shouted, “It didn’t matter to me if you were famous or if you were powerful. When no one else in this blasted school believed you, not even Obi-Wan, I did. I stood by your side and stuck up for you. You were the last person I’d ever think would fall for this stupid fame rap, but I guess I was wrong.”
Anakin’s mouth felt dry, but it didn’t stop his stupid words from taking form anyway- coming from a place of hurt so bleak that he didn’t realize it still existed there from his loneliness of last year,
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me being your charity case anymore. I’d rather have friends that are happier for me instead of sulking all the time anyway.” He said.
“Sure, have fun with Miraj at Palpatine’s stupid party! I’m sure she’ll just love puckering up to your arse every time you so much as breathe. See if she still likes you next time you fall flat on your face and don’t ask me to come pick you back up.”
“And good luck on the bench this year!” It felt mean even as he said it, but Anakin decided he wasn’t wanted here anymore as he stormed back down the steps towards the exit, trying not to look anyone else in the face as tears began to spring from his eyes. He ran into Cody on his way down, who tried to grab him by the wrist, but Anakin slipped from his potential grasp and descended the stairs anyway.
On his way out, he heard Cody ask, “What the bloody hell just happened?”
It seemed Anakin was out a friend. It was no matter, he told himself. He had plenty of other friends now.
He would just have to keep telling himself that.
***
Obi-Wan was surprised to find Anakin sitting by himself in the courtyard. It was far from a safe position for him to be in, given the price that was likely out on his head by Maul, but the boy was so sullen that he couldn’t find it in him to admonish him. He wasn’t crying, but didn’t look far from it.
“I don’t care if you give me detention, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said and pressed his forehead into his knees as he brought them closer to him, likely in an effort to keep himself warm. “Just leave me alone.”
Obi-Wan sighed through his nose and carefully pulled his robe off of him before draping it around Anakin, followed by giving him his scarf. There wasn’t going to be much of a Chosen One left if he froze to death in the December chill. He dusted the stone bench free of drifting snow and ice before taking a seat beside him.
“What happened?” He finally asked, breaking the silence that bounded them. The whirl of the wind whistled through and around the many towers and seemed to battle with itself in the heart of the courtyard.
Anakin had been having a great year from the looks of it, contrary to his previous year. He made new friends, grew a lot of confidence (perhaps, a bit too much), and was behaving better in class. Another psychopathic dark wizard was after him, yes, but he seemed to take it in stride in comparison to how he reacted to his fear of Windu before. This behavior seemed very out of the blue to Obi-Wan.
He sighed heavily, causing a wreath of frosty air to circulate around him, “Rex doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”
Now, that didn’t sound right at all. Rex had stuck with Anakin through the thickest of thick and didn’t seem keen on going anywhere. He’d been a loyal and true friend, one that Anakin was lucky to have. It simply did not add up.
Then, Obi-Wan counted back to the previous months, thinking about how Anakin hadn’t been seen with Rex nearly as much, how his mentee had grown popular with other and older students, or how Anakin seemed quite boastful as of late.
“Did he say why?”
“He’s upset I’m taking Miraj Scintel to Palpatine’s banquet.” He huffed, “Which is ridiculous, because he hates potions and was dogging the event in general until I told him I was inviting someone else.”
“Ah, I see.” Obi-Wan slumped against the wall a bit, but it was colder than anything he’d ever touched and he straightened his posture again, “I must admit, I’m not sure I’m the best candidate to be giving advice on this specific matter. I’m somewhat in a similar pickle.”
“You’re also bringing Miraj Scintel to Palpatine’s banquet?” Anakin wrinkled his nose, “She never struck me as your type.”
“She’s not!” Obi-Wan insisted, “I’m not taking her, but one of my friends is upset that I didn’t elect to ask them more formally.”
“Why didn’t you?” Anakin asked, loosening his grip on his legs and letting his feet touch the stone again.
Obi-Wan breathed out his own cloud of air, admiring for a moment how picturesque it looked in the reflective light from the torches that hung above them. He was grateful for them, of course, because they provided at least a little warmth to fight off the freezing December. He couldn’t explain it, but he always liked the smell of the cold- the freshness of it. He just never quite enjoyed feeling it.
He rubbed his hands along his arms in an effort to warm up, “I thought… It went without saying that we were to go together.”
Anakin frowned, “That’s awful dumb of you. How is someone supposed to know they’re invited if you never say anything?”
Obi-Wan snorted, always amused at the sheer lack of thought that went into Anakin’s words sometimes, “Yes, I know that now, thank you. It is for that reason that I am now bringing Cody to the banquet.”
“Cody?” Anakin squawked, “He’s not going to fit in at all!”
“That doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan said, “It’s about who you want to bring, not about who you feel would make the best trophy to show off.”
Obi-Wan was quite glad that Satine wasn’t there to call him out on the sheer hypocrisy of that statement. Being a Kenobi and hosting many parties, meant that most of his life had been surrounded by various upscale wizards flashing their trophy husbands or wives or children.
“But why would I want to bring someone who’s been nothing but negative this entire term? It’s like he’s not even happy for me for being popular.”
“Popularity isn’t everything, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, rubbing his hands together now, “It’s better to have fewer great friends than more fairweather friends.”
“What’s a fairweather friend?” Anakin asked.
“The kind who only wants to be around you when you’re on top.” He explained, “So maybe, it’s not that you’ve invited Miraj, but that you neglected to think of Rex. It could quite possibly just be a buildup of feelings.”
“Well, how am I supposed to know the difference between a fairweather friend and a real friend?” He asked, bright blue eyes looking troubled and concerned at the difference.
“You’ll know when things get tough again.” Obi-Wan said and draped an arm around Anakin’s shoulders, partially because he was starting to lose feeling in his limbs from being outside for as long as they were.
“You’re a real friend.” Anakin said quietly.
“I’d like to think so.” Obi-Wan really did, too. He knew Satine was rightfully quite upset with him at the moment, but he liked to think that he was there for his friends when they needed him. He wasn’t perfect, but he did intend to show Anakin the proper values for him to proceed. “And it is my humble opinion that you should try to make up with Rex.”
“But how? He basically told me to bugger off and not to come back.” Anakin said, “And I don’t really want to, right now.”
“Sometimes, you have to be the better person and put yourself out there.” Obi-Wan advised.
“Just like you did with Satine?” Anakin arched an eyebrow at him.
“I- I never said I was quarreling with Satine.”
“When aren’t you is the better question.” He said, “It’s just a date. What’s the big deal?”
“First of all, it’s not a date. It’s a social gathering amongst intellectual acquaintances that she and I would merely be attending together in formal attire. Second of all, it’s past curfew and you’re lucky I haven’t taken to removing points from Gryffindor by now.”
“Sure, sure.” Anakin rolled his eyes, “Still not sure what I’m going to do about Rex. I already asked Miraj.”
“Just be honest with him. Give him some time to cool off.” Obi-Wan said and stood up, “Speaking of cooling off, I think we’ve done enough of that, wouldn’t you say?”
***
Anakin knew Obi-Wan had to be right in his advice to make up with Rex, but the trouble was finding the timing for such a thing. However, he reasoned this would be much easier to do once this silly banquet that started the quarrel in the first place was over. It didn’t make the way Rex refused to meet his eyes any easier.
In fact, Anakin began to understand some of what Rex had been talking about, as though he’d just noticed his friend’s absence. Even with Jax, Tru, and Ferus chatting with him eagerly about the banquet at breakfast, he couldn’t help but revert his eyes down the table to where Rex ate quietly with his brothers. All but Cody were present, who was actually sitting with Obi-Wan and Satine. Anakin wondered if his mentor was taking his own advice on that front.
He was relieved when Qui-Gon got up from his seat at the front of the Great Hall and walked over to him, making everyone else look rather small in comparison.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Anakin, but may I have a word?” He asked kindly, nodding cordially to the other boys.
“Oh, sure!” Anakin slid out from his seat, “I’ll see you later, guys!”
As he followed the large Head of House out of the Great Hall, he met Obi-Wan’s nondescript stare from across the room, but didn’t think much of it. Whatever obvious disagreement was happening between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan was their business. Anakin had enough trouble on his hands as it were.
They didn’t speak until they drifted down to his office, which was decorated aplomb with Christmas joy, even though his party wouldn’t be happening this year. He especially liked the charmed elf decoration that skated in endless crazy eights across the surface of his mantle. It was particularly interesting that Qui-Gon never seemed to stick exclusively to wizard-made decor. Instead, there were plenty of lights and trappings of garland that could be found in any muggle hardware store. It infused Anakin with the sort of merriment that felt akin to magic before he had a full grasp on his abilities.
“Is this about the necklace?” He asked.
“Yes and no.” Qui-Gon said as he leaned against his desk, “I heard you were invited to Sheev’s end of the year dinner party.”
Anakin scratched his head, briefly performing mental gymnastics to remember that Palpatine’s first name was certainly not “Professor” and that Qui-Gon likely didn’t call him by that when they were outside of professional settings. Still, he was also unsure what his invitation had to do with anything.
“Uh, and what of it?” He asked.
“Congratulations,” Though it sounded more of a formality than sincerity, “It’s unheard of that someone so young be invited.”
“Yeah, Professor Palpatine says he’s never met a wizard like me.” Anakin shrugged, trying not to boast lest he prove Rex correct.
“No one is the same as each other.” He said, “Everyone offers their own different strengths and weaknesses that deserve to be celebrated.”
“I think he just likes to do something nice for the gifted kids.” Anakin said.
“I’m sure Professor Palpatine means no malice in his little get-together, but segmenting chosen students with no official system for doing so can be… Misleading. All students at Hogwarts are gifted and regardless of grades, skills, or social standing, no one is overall better than the other.”
Anakin really didn’t see how that could be true, even if he weren’t the chosen one.
“So, you don’t want me to go?” Anakin asked.
“I did not say that.” He poured himself a cup of tea and sighed, “Quite the opposite, actually, I think it’s important you do attend the dinner.”
“No offense, but you’re not making much sense, Qui-Gon.”
He chuckled, “I’m not, am I?”
“No, sir. It doesn’t sound like you agree with Palpatine having a party at all. So, why encourage me to go?” Anakin decided to make himself comfortable and take a seat. Qui-Gon had a tendency to be long-winded, so he might as well prepare for a lecture.
“I have nothing negative to say about his having a party,” Qui-Gon said, “Do I wish he were a bit clearer in his system beyond picking favorites, perhaps? There are bigger issues at play, though, and it’s not my position or place anyway.”
“So, what is it?”
“As you know, Palpatine has a tendency to adopt people, so to speak, and not in a bad way, but with the hopes of passing down his own wisdom from past experiences.” He said, “And he’s included many interesting cases in this little club of his over the years. One of whom, many years ago, was a sixth year Slytherin boy who many considered to be… Troubled. Immensely talented? Yes, but it was how he used that power that was always concerning the professors.”
“How did he use it?” Anakin asked.
“You see, outside of the classroom he didn’t have many friends. He was aggressive and would occasionally perform some rather sinister tricks on those that crossed him. He was gifted at charms and transfiguration above all else and was even caught performing some rather… Disturbing spells on animals and leaving them in students’ beds.”
“Who was he?” Anakin asked.
He lifted a navy and silver leather bound book from his desk and flipped through some of the pages before finding what he’d been looking for. Wordlessly, Qui-Gon turned the book and pointed to a moving school portrait of Maul.
The rock that dropped in his stomach made Anakin question the company of this exclusive club that he was being invited into.
Anakin wrinkled his nose, “That’s terrible! Why would Palpatine want to take him under his wing?”
“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon frowned, “I suspect he wanted to help him, but…”
“But what?”
He placed his teacup down delicately before folding his hands in front of him, “It would benefit us to learn whatever we can about Maul and his potential motives for seeking you out. As of right now, Palpatine is the only person I know who was close with him.”
“So, you want me to go to the banquet to get information from Palpatine?” Anakin clarified and for some reason, the task didn’t sit right with him. In fact, it felt an awful lot like spying.
“I warn you to act with discretion, of course,” Qui-Gon raised a hand, “Sheev has never mentioned Maul once in the years I’ve known him. The only reason I’m aware of his previous kinship with Maul was because I… Stumbled upon this information as a first year. I’d not thought much of it then, but now… It would certainly be wise to see what he knows.”
“Will it upset him?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask. After all, he was already out one friend right now. He really didn’t need to go cutting off all his ties.
“I think it would upset him more if anything bad were to happen to you as a result of his own silence.” Qui-Gon clarified, “The truth, while not always easy, must come out.”
***
Padmé was having a difficult time figuring out what she wanted to get her friends for Christmas. It was to no surprise that Hondo tried to weasel his way into her decision making process, armed with t-shirts, trinkets, and buttons with Anakin Skywalker’s face plastered all over it. She would have laughed if the exploitation of the younger student wasn’t a little sad. It was even worse that Anakin didn’t seem to have a grasp yet on why this wasn’t ideal.
She was in the process of knitting a scarf for Yané with a new spell she learned in charms, when she noticed him walk by looking quite out of place in an oversized suit. For once, he was alone and without his newfound posse of older students.
“Anakin?” He halted right in his tracks at her call, appearing uncharacteristically lost in thought.
“Oh, hey Padmé!” He chirped, but lacked some of the boyish excitement that usually emanated off of him. She was beginning to wonder if the stress of Maul’s looming presence was getting to him. She knew she would be afraid if there was not one, but two, bad guys on the hunt for her.
“What’s with the suit?” She gestured to his outfit.
“Oh, you know, gotta fit in with the big boys.” He did that thing where he was trying desperately to seem like he belonged. She wondered briefly where that stemmed from.
“Ah, I heard you were going to Palpatine’s dinner party.” She said.
“Yeah, I’m actually on my way to pick up my date.” He leaned against the doorframe, clearly trying to impress her with such information. For what reason, she didn’t understand, but didn’t doubt it had to do with this macho facade he had clearly been building for the other students.
“Date?” She played along.
“Miraj Scintel. Don’t take it personally.” He waved her off, “She really wanted to go.”
Padmé wasn’t shocked by that. She didn’t know Miraj too well, given she was a grade older and a Slytherin, which meant they essentially walked different circles here at Hogwarts. However, she knew enough to know that her crowd of people wasn’t exactly notorious for being warm and fuzzy. Her parents, like Padmé’s, were dignitaries, though not known as a very merciful and kind sort.
In fact, there were some dark rumors about how they ran their government.
“Why would I take it personally?” She snorted.
“Because you know…” He trailed off.
“No…” She said slowly.
“Oh,” Anakin ran a hand through his floppy blond hair and winced, “Well, sometimes girls get jealous when you ask someone else to go to dinners or parties or something. Pretty sure that’s the gist of what’s happening to Obi-Wan and Satine.”
Padmé straightened, “We’re not like them of course.”
Anakin floundered a bit at that, “No no, of course not! They’re… Weird and we’re…”
“Friends.” She finished with a smile.
“We are?” He asked, which made her laugh.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” She asked.
“I dunno, really,” He smiled shyly, “Age differences and all that.”
“Aren’t you taking an older woman as your date tonight?” She asked wryly.
“Obi-Wan says this isn’t a date.” He said, “I think he’s just saying that because he didn’t want Cody getting any ideas.”
“Why’s he taking Cody?” Padmé gaped.
“He mentioned something about being a fool, but he really does not like to talk about his feelings.” Anakin sighed, “Guess he’s got some growing up to do on that front.”
That got Padmé legitimately laughing. Maybe it was because the kid who lost Gryffindor 5 points for getting caught calling Windu a “doo-doo head” behind his back was doling out advice on maturity.
He glanced at the automatically moving knitting needles that worked next to her, “What are you making?”
“A scarf, probably,” She turned to resume with her hands, “I know it’s not as exciting as an elegant dinner party with the fellow elites, but if I want to get it ready by Christmas I’ve got to get a move on.”
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of fancy dinners.” Anakin stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.” She smirked, “So, if you get sick of the party life or the tiny little finger sandwiches, please feel free to lend a helping hand. I could use someone to untangle the yarn.”
“Surely, there are spells for that too.” He said.
“Maybe, but some things are better when you put a little earnest hard work into it.”
“You kinda sound like my mom.” Anakin smiled softly and after a moment of gazing somewhere in the distance he sighed, “Yeah, well, I better be off.”
“Have fun on your hot date.” She teased.
“I will.” He said, though he no longer seemed so sure of it.
***
“No flowers?” Cody teased as Obi-Wan met his friend outside of Gryffindor’s common room as previously agreed upon. Obi-Wan truly should have expected Cody to miss the memo about dressing formally (even though he, himself, reminded him), but he was still aghast when his friend emerged wearing his Quidditch sweater and dark jeans.
“What happened to black tie?” He answered instead.
“Oh, I don’t have one.” Cody shrugged.
“But you do have a collared shirt and dress pants seeing as you wear them every school day.” Obi-Wan countered and referred to his own attire of a black and white tuxedo set of dress robes. “Is that a stain on the collar of your sweater?”
“Could be.” Cody tugged on the hem of it and ducked his chin to inspect before allowing it to snap back into place, “Seems like ketchup, though. Luckily, it practically blends in with the red.”
“It doesn’t.” He said.
“Look, if you wanted someone who would have looked a little more to your fancy, you would have just sucked it up and apologized to Satine.” He said and smacked him on the back, “But since the both of you are more stubborn than two bulls in a stare down, this is what you get. Frankly, you’re quite lucky I showered beforehand. I did have practice today.”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “Let the record show that I have tried to apologize to Satine. She just never makes it quite easy.”
“She’ll come around,” Cody said, “Plus, I doubt she’s solely mad at you.”
“You’d be surprised how easy she finds it to be mad at me.”
“And likewise.” Cody said.
“The only difference is, I struggle with staying mad at her.” It was a bit too honest, it seemed, because Cody was regarding him with a smug look on his face that he didn’t quite appreciate. He’d rather be in on the joke, after all.
As they drew nearer to Palpatine’s office, they passed Ventress, who was dressed for the event in a black low-cut gown with a slit down the side. Her short-cropped hair was slicked back and her makeup was even harsher than usual, making her bone-white cheeks appear so sharp that they were almost hollow. She seemed to be waiting for someone, presumably whatever sad sack was to be her plus one, and was sure to glare at them as they passed.
“I see you’re slumming it, Kenobi.” She taunted, “Couldn’t get a date?”
“At least I didn’t likely have to bribe my guest, Ventress.” He responded swiftly and kept them moving.
“Or threaten.” Cody added offhandedly and when they got out of earshot said, “I won’t mention that I’m mostly here for the food.”
“Yes, thank you.” He muttered. “Let’s just get this thing over with.”
“Satine’s right, you really do know how to send the tones of a date.” Cody chuckled.
“This isn’t a- oh, nevermind.” He sighed, realizing that he wasn’t much in the mood to defend his case on that just now, “Who do you reckon she wanted to go with?”
“What do you mean?” He asked as they took their seats around the round clothed table. They were some of the first to arrive to the group that was unsurprisingly mostly composed of Slytherins. Palpatine was their Head of House, of course, so it made sense he spent the most time with them.
“Satine.” Obi-Wan unraveled the cloth napkin and smoothed it on his leg, “She was offended that I never considered if she’d want to go with someone else.”
“I don’t know if that’s the bit she was harping on.” Cody said carefully.
“Yes, I know, and she isn’t wrong about the company being a bit… Obvious.” Obi-Wan did see a downcast Anakin trailing behind who he presumed to be Miraj Scintel, whose Zygerrian feline features made her look much older and more sophisticated than 14 or 15. Her dress was long-sleeved and dark turquoise in fabric, but contained several plates of ornate gold to match the headband clasped at the front of her forehead.
“Anakin, dear, do fetch me some sparkling cider.” She said in a haughty voice that was meant to be heard. Her yellow eyes narrowed at him when he didn’t immediately leap at her request. “I have many words to exchange with the grownups.”
Anakin, who never leapt at anyone’s demands, shot her a sideways look and seemed ready to fire back his own opinions on that idea, but ended up just huffing and moving over to the concessions table.
“No,” Cody frowned as he noticed what was happening too, “She isn’t.”
***
Satine had far better uses of her time than sitting around a table, trading dull conversation with even duller people that were somehow measured as more impressive than she. Despite what she said to Cody and Obi-Wan, not being invited hadn’t really offended her all that much. That wasn’t to say she approved of Palpatine’s obvious biases. She wasn’t sure if the man even truly noticed he had them. He was never unkind to her or other muggle-borns explicitly, but there was certainly a bit of tokenism that came with their interactions. Truly, even if Obi-Wan had asked her in a more ideal manner, she wasn’t even sure if she’d go.
She sighed, because that was a lie and she knew it.
It certainly would have given her the opportunity to show just how flagrant Palpatine’s oversight had been. Beyond that, she wouldn’t have felt so utterly annoyed at her friend’s own obtusity.
How dare he just assume they’d go together without even asking? Even if they were to attend as friends, which she prided herself on questioning him about (if she weren’t so riled up, she was unsure she would have otherwise had the courage), it was only common decency to ask a person to go.
Really, she knew, it was the fact that he seemed dead-set on letting her know that it wasn’t a date that infuriated her beyond measure. Maybe that was a tad immature, since he certainly didn’t owe her dates or anything of the sort, but she couldn’t help but feel he was constantly sending her mixed signals these days. She should know, seeing as she couldn’t seem to stop hyper-analyzing every interaction they had together.
As she passed a bunch of fourth year girls that were gawking over Kit Fisto’s old Quidditch portrait, she rolled her eyes. She needed to ensure that she never got that boy crazy.
She decided on a trip to the library to return the books she’d borrowed on cursed objects. It was the simplest way to try and get Obi-Wan’s stupid incredulity off her mind. Besides, she never returned a book late before and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.
Professor Plo Koon had once again outdone himself with the decorations around the castle to commemorate the holiday season. It wasn’t the same without the promise of Qui-Gon’s party this year, but she could still take the time to appreciate the glittering icicles that hung along the ceiling. Only these, she noted, would have no risk of truly causing harm. She did have to reserve a chuckle at a startled first year, who leapt out of the way when an icicle “fell”, but they relaxed when it puffed into mist just above his head.
“Good evening, Ms. Nu.” Satine smiled at the older librarian, who never once looked like she was having an unpleasant day.
“How are you tonight, Miss Kryze?” She returned her mirth. Jocasta Nu always dressed for the holiday season and tonight was sporting a pair of earrings that looked like little red jingle bells adorned with holly.
“I’m well, thank you.” She nodded and handed over her stack of books to the bin, “Hoping to get a little light reading in.”
“Nothing new there!” She chuckled, “Though I was surprised to see you have a different studying partner for a change.”
Satine furrowed her brow, “Pardon? I haven’t got a new-”
She peered down the aisle to where she usually sat and noticed a set of legs from the seat opposite. She gave Jocasta Nu a sidelong glance before excusing herself to go investigate. It was silly, really, since it wasn’t like her name was inscribed in the wood finish. However, she spent more time in the library than most and everyone seemed to automatically know where she would be sitting.
Who she found was none other than Fenn Rau, who looked up immediately from his borrowed copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and offered her a small smile. He set down the book and placed a navy striped bookmark to save his spot.
“Forgive me if I’m intruding.” He said.
“It is a free library.” She joked, “You are free to sit wherever you choose.”
“This really is the best spot in the library.” He admired and looked around them. “No draft, away from the rubble, close to the most interesting books, and not too far from the entrance for comfort. You’ve chosen well!”
She followed his gaze around them and smiled, “I didn’t actually choose at all. Though I’m sure Ben took a lot of what you said into consideration. He’s a great deal more introspective than I am for such things.”
When his mouth twitched ever-so-slightly, Satine couldn’t help but think back to her conversation with Aayla and Stass. Still, when he made the friendly gesture for her to join him, she didn’t have much of a reason not to. She meant what she said to Jocasta Nu about getting some reading done and Fenn didn’t seem like the type to be noisy.
“Did you know Cody has the record for renting this book out the most?” Fenn laughed and showed her the inside of the book, where the library card had Cody’s signature embedded on several lines.
“When it comes to Quidditch, Cody doesn’t do anything in small doses.” Satine smiled, “I am surprised you chose to go out for the team. I don’t recall you ever having much interest in it before.”
“Things change.” He smiled, “People change.”
“Well, you’ve certainly proved yourself capable.” She said and moved to pull a book out from her bag.
“You know all about having to prove yourself, of course.” He said.
She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly amended his statement, “I just meant being muggle-born and all. I get it. I mean, I’m not one. I’m a half blood, but it’s still strange, right? That there are different expectations for each of us based on something stupid like how we’re born. We’re all wizards, right?”
Satine felt a fire stoked within her and she straightened, “Exactly! And the fact that so many people don’t see that is beyond frustrating.”
“Well, some people don't know any better.” He said, “Look at the Kenobi’s. They’re one of the highest ranking families in the wizarding community. Do you think they could possibly understand what it’s like not to be born into wealth and status? I think they just assume they deserve it because they’ve had it for so long.”
She bit her tongue, because while she definitely agreed with some of his points, she wasn’t completely comfortable making them vocal right now.
Despite there not being any real cause for it, since Rau didn’t say anything explicitly, Satine still instinctively found herself saying, “Ben’s not like that, of course, so it’s got to be more than just a thing of nature.”
“Oh, of course! I never meant to insinuate otherwise.” He cleared his throat, “I know the two of you are quite close. I just… You’re just as good as him and yet you aren’t viewed as such. And between you and me, I don’t think I could ever go to some party where my friends aren’t wanted or welcome.”
She swallowed, unsure if he meant for that to sting the way that it did. He couldn’t possibly know he was uncovering one of her buried insecurities on the matter. She once again could not help dashing to his defense, which felt quite stupid given the circumstances.
“Well, originally he wanted to bring me.”
“I think.” She thought to herself. It wasn’t like he’d exactly seemed all that enthusiastic about the prospect of taking her.
“As a date?” Fenn perked up, even if he seemed to try and subdue any immediate reaction.
“No.” She rolled her eyes, “We’re just friends.”
“Ah, I see.” He nodded several times too many, but then shrugged, “He’s lucky to have a friend like you though.”
“Thank you. I know.” She chuckled, because perhaps Aayla and Stass were wrong about Rau’s intentions. It wasn’t like she ever saw him trailing along any friends. Maybe he was just a little awkward and in need of a friend. It was only a bonus that he seemed to have at least some critical understanding of the prejudice that still existed in their world.  
“I do hope he knows it too.” He teased.
“I think he does,” But she felt a biting indignance return to her, “Well, usually, anyway.”
Fenn frowned, “Usually?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to have this conversation right now and burden someone else with the stupid annoyance that plagued her. Oftentimes, her feelings confused her too much as it were. No need to dump all of it on someone else.
“I’m not at the party, am I?” She said and hoped she did so with the impression of wanting to leave it at that, “Besides, I don’t require validation from the potions professor to determine my value. I will be just fine on my own.”
“I’m sure of it.” Rau said, “He’s a fool for not choosing you in the first place.”
Whether he was talking about Obi-Wan or Palpatine had yet to be seen, but Satine couldn’t help but agree either way. Try as she might to argue otherwise, she did care that things were the way they were. She did care that she had to try twice as hard to be considered half as much. Even though Obi-Wan was her best friend, she knew there were opportunities he would always receive despite being on essentially the same playing field.
“Yes,” She said ardently, “He was.”
***
Anakin was beginning to understand why Palpatine’s annual dinner party was rarely occupied by younger students. He was having an impossibly difficult time staying awake. Miraj, as beautifully alluring and sophisticated as she was, wasn’t exactly the most loyal type, and sat between Ventress and Tarkin, the latter of whom she was obviously flirting with.
He was actually a bit relieved in a sense. It became despicably clear that the two didn’t have much in common beyond their intrigue in the darkness that hung over the horizon. She couldn’t seem to stop fixating on the dementors or the numerous near-death experiences. Anakin was wondering why he was tired of talking about them all the time now.
Classical Christmas music from a harp that played itself enveloped the room in a sleepy spirit and to Anakin felt a bit like a lullaby. Most of the chatter cycled around what each wizard’s prospects were for the future or what their parents did. It seemed mostly everyone already knew, so Anakin wasn’t quite sure why it bore repeating.
“So, mummy and daddy told the prime minister just where to shove his chilled water.” Scoffed Miraj, “Where I come from, presenting anything less than room temperature is enough for banishment.”
He didn’t quite get where she was from, but he made the mental note not to visit. Obi-Wan and Cody seemed to be making the same notation for themselves, because they both exchanged a surprised glance. Anakin was suddenly very glad that he was sitting with them instead.
“Truly, very few know how to behave around noblemen and women.” Tarkin, whose face always looked stretched stiff across his bones, showed the barest of smiles, “I’d have liked to see how you would have handled such an incident.”
“I’m merciful at the core, of course,” Miraj said, “But it does make one think about the divides in society, doesn’t it?”
Obi-Wan shifted in his seat beside Anakin and when he took a better look at his mentor, he couldn’t help but notice his jaw looked set with tension. His posture was perfectly straight and he’d hardly touched the sweet-soup that was in front of him. Anakin, on the other hand, couldn’t stop doing so as a distraction from this nonsense.
“That’s for your fingers,” Obi-Wan whispered and stretched out a napkin for Anakin.
“What?”
“That’s a finger bowl.” He nodded his head towards the little bowl, “For cleaning.”
Anakin looked down to the glass bowl to scrutinize it. He bent down, smelling the soft scent of lemon that was barely much more than a spritz for ambiance. When he shot back up, he glared at Obi-Wan.
“Why would I do that?” He asked.
“It’s meant to be cleansing before dessert.” He added gently, “Just go with it.”
“This is stupid.” He muttered and proceeded to dip his fingers in the bowl as instructed.
“I think it’s time our resident chosen one spoke of his impressive background.” Ventress practically hissed from across the table. Only difference was that Anakin would trust any snake before her, no matter how poisonous.
“Go on, Anakin.” Professor Palpatine smiled encouragingly, “I, too, am quite curious, actually.”
Had he really never mentioned his mum in detail to Palpatine before? He supposed it was possible. He was often so preoccupied when around the professor.
For some reason, he didn’t feel like he belonged anymore as he looked around the table. Even Miraj, who was supposed to be his plus one to the event, was looking at him in scrutiny.
“Well, I’m a half-blood.” Admitting this felt like lead on the tongue and he didn’t know why. He realized then that it was the first time he’d openly said such a thing. Sure, most knew that his mum is a witch and his dad was a muggle, but he’d never used the vocabulary to describe it in plain speech.
“I’ve no connection to my father.” He added, “But my mum is a witch and went to Hogwarts.”
“Why?” Ventress asked, her eyes narrowed and looking at him scathingly, though unlike Sebulba, who he at least returned some retaliation to, Anakin couldn’t quite figure out what he’d done for Ventress to hate him.
“Now, now, Ventress,” Palpatine said firmly, “That’s quite personal. If Anakin does not wish to share, that’s his-”
“-I never knew him.” Anakin bit harshly and looked at every single person at the table in the eyes, if only to make them a little uncomfortable by the truth, “He left before I was born and I was raised with the knowledge of being a wizard in an all-muggle world.”
“You poor thing.” Miraj said sadly, “That must have been dreadful.”
“Agreed,” Tarkin leaned back with crossed arms, “To not only bring a child into this world as a natural… Misfit, so to speak, but to bail out on one’s duties as a father.”
“Anakin is not a misfit, Tarkin.” Obi-Wan warned.
“Oh, I never meant it that way.” He held up white gloved hands and smiled a bit, “Just that it must be confusing to be raised that way, right Skywalker?”
Anakin shrugged, “Yeah, I was always getting into trouble.”
“Exactly! Like a square peg trying to fit into a circle.” He clapped a bit and then raised an eyebrow, “You know nothing of struggling to fit in, do you, Kenobi?”
Anakin didn’t understand the daring nature of Tarkin’s tone, but it did bring a decent amount of tension to Obi-Wan’s already stiff posture. He didn’t see how this would be much of a low-blow. Obi-Wan’s family was one of the most affluent in the wizarding community and surely never wanted for anything. Still, there was something about his mentor that reflected differently, like he never really wanted to be a part of all that.
“Everyone must struggle to find themselves.” Palpatine said as he swirled what must have been wine around his glass, raising it to inspect it in the emerald low-light, “I’ve helped many a student find their way.”
Was one of those students Maul?
“If only the muggles had your assistance, Professor.” Miraj said dutifully.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “Well, muggle-borns would probably be a decent start.”
Everyone stopped eating and looked at Obi-Wan in surprise. Even Cody seemed shocked by the candor of his friend. Anakin, on the other hand, was just realizing that he was the only person in the room that wasn’t a pureblood. Surely, that couldn’t have been intentional. Professor Palpatine was nothing but kind to every student he had. Maybe, this year he didn’t see any other students worthy of invitation.
Then again, there was the glaring omission of Satine that seemed to hang over everyone’s heads.
“Professor Palpatine can invite whomever he chooses fit, Kenobi.” Tarkin said stiffly.
Palpatine didn’t appear the least bit affected by the comment and instead raised his glass in Obi-Wan’s steely direction, “A good point, my dear boy. We, as a community, are moving forward in a diverse direction. I just do not wish to invite someone based on tokenism, but of their truest merit.”
“And what defines such a thing, Professor?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice cordial. “Clearly, it cannot be solely academic prowess or athleticism.”
“Why, I simply like to invite students I’m closest with! Those who I’ve seen grow and become brilliant young witches and wizards over the years and who I believe I’ve had a hand in molding.” Palpatine shrugged with a small smile, “I truly wish some of the muggle-borns and half-bloods would follow Anakin’s example and allow themselves to accel in my potions classroom.”
Anakin nodded at this. It was true that he had been gravitating towards Palpatine since the beginning of his time at Hogwarts. While he never fancied himself a teacher’s pet in the past, he didn’t understand why people were so afraid to talk to their professors.
“Good enough for you and your sudden zest for socio-political justice?” Ventress asked and the condescending tone she was giving Obi-Wan was what made Anakin angrier than anything else.
“It will have to be.” Obi-Wan said with a sip of sparkling cider.
Cody grinned as he ate more lambchop.
“Do tell us about your mother, Anakin.” Palpatine said with a smile, “Contrary to popular belief, I am quite curious what your life in the muggle world was like.”
“Oh, I lived a pretty regular life.” Though Anakin realized not a single wizard at this table really knew what that entailed for him, “My mum is a waitress and serves food to people.”
“We’re not stone aged, we know what waitresses are.” Ventress sneered.
“They don’t use magic to deliver food.” Anakin said, “So it’s a lot harder and they have to balance everything on this big tray. She works for this creep named Watto, who never gives her any holidays off or anything like that.”
“That’s awful.” Bail Organa, the sole representative from Hufflepuff house, said.
“Sounds like slavery to me.” Cody murmured.
“But she makes decent money.” He said, “Keeps a roof over our head and food in our stomach.”
“Who would have thought the bar was so low?” Miraj sighed.
Anakin ignored that and went on, “One thing muggles definitely have over wizards is television, because I’ve grown up watching a good deal of that. There’s all these fictional programs both animated and live-action and they act out stories.”
“Like in a play.” Obi-Wan said, utterly transfixed, “I’ve heard of it before, but I’ve never actually watched. Is it occurring live or is it pre-recorded?”
“Both!” Anakin chirped, “Reality TV is crazy and super weird. My mum says that’s staged too, but I don’t know if you can make some of that stuff up. I used to think the TV could hear me, but there are writers that make up the plots and stuff before they film.”
“And how does one operate such a device?” Tarkin asked.
“Oh, by electricity and stuff!”
“Electricity.” Cody said reverently, “We’ve actually got some of that in my house now.”
“No kidding?” Obi-Wan turned to Cody.
“For light bulbs and stuff. Ninety-Nine managed to figure out.”
“Well, he’s got not much else to do.” Snickered Faro Argyus, who had accompanied Ventress as her date.
“What did you say?” Gritted Cody as he placed firm hands to the table.
“Oh, nothing, just that he isn’t in school is all.” Faro’s smile feigned innocence, but had a shit-eating quality that made Anakin’s skin crawl. The fact that he chose now to join the discourse was a very poor decision on his end. Cody, meanwhile, looked like a blood vessel might burst in his head.
“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Just a warning that you might be spitting out some teeth too, if you say the wrong thing, mate.” Cody said tightly.
Everyone looked to Faro, who just snapped his trap shut like the coward he was and leaned back in his chair. Palpatine gave him a disapproving look before sighing.
“Please maintain decorum. This is meant to be a celebration, not a brawl.”
“Tell that to pretty boy.” Cody argued.
“I do not want to have to remove any points this evening, especially not from two guests.” Palpatine said it like he was reminding them that they didn’t need to be there. They were merely courtesies to Obi-Wan and Ventress.
“Don’t be a fool, Faro.” Ventress said, “We all know everyone’s capable in their own way.”
“Right you are, Ventress.” Palpatine smiled.
“For instance, Skywalker’s mum can screw more than just a lightbulb.” She fluttered her icy glare to Anakin, “Obviously.”
Anakin only remembered grabbing a fistful of bean dip before seeing nothing but white.
***  
After finally calming the calamity of flying food that ensued shortly after Anakin had made the first decisive throw, Professor Palpatine had deemed that the night was to be put to an abrupt end since it seemed most of them could not behave like civilized adults. This was fine with Obi-Wan, who hadn’t bothered to remove points from Anakin for starting the whole fight. After all, Ventress truly had something coming to her for speaking so far out of turn for no reason other than to be cruel.
Palpatine dismissed each of them except for Anakin, presumably to receive a firm talking to based on how impulsively he’d acted. Obi-Wan hoped he wasn’t too hard on him. It wasn’t like it hadn’t been deserved.
But that wasn’t how things worked at Hogwarts or in the real world, as his parents had been sure to teach him. Life wasn’t always fair and sometimes the wrong person got blamed simply for not being able to control themselves. It was why the aspect of controlling his emotions was always so important to them.
And for the most part, he thought he was quite good at it.
He still hadn’t been able to resist countering Palpatine’s charitable view of himself when it came to his invitees- not when there was a glaring omission. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan was particularly close with Palpatine. His parents might have been in their day, so he supposed there was a favor to be had there (one that likely would not be handed to him next year).
Guilt nagged at him as he considered the lack of empathy that dripped in Tarkin, Miraj, and Faro’s voices as they talked about the muggles or even Anakin’s situation. Even more so was it disturbing that Obi-Wan had clearly shielded himself from seeing just how clearly people were opposed to the other side of living. He didn’t get it, truly. Why did it matter? It wasn’t like muggles were exactly hunting them out. They would have a clear disadvantage if they were.
But maybe that was his own biases talking. Satine had gone on to tell him in excessive detail over the years about the various enhancements in modern technology that placed muggles far ahead of wizards. Maybe that’s what scared so many at the Ministry.
Still, Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t right. He saw the way Anakin looked so small under their questioning and he cringed at being unable to protect him completely from the scrutiny that would surely follow the boy. It certainly didn’t help his case that his father wasn’t involved. Wizards would grasp onto that for something to point to for certain, as if there weren’t plenty of wizard or witch deadbeats in their era.
His dress shoes clicked across the stone floor towards the library almost mindlessly. He knew he wouldn’t rest well if he didn’t express a true sentiment of apology. In a way, he was glad Satine wasn’t there. She didn’t deserve to be exposed to that sort of thinking. She could handle herself, of course, and while he was often beguiled by her, it had been obvious that she was upset by his manner of asking.
It wasn’t very proper of him, thinking back. His parents would have been very disappointed in how he’d gone about it if it were someone else.
So, he smiled at Jocasta Nu as he stuck his hands in his pockets and prepared himself to approach Satine with his tail between his legs. He couldn’t help but smile to himself about the fact that she was so often ahead of him and was likely expecting an appearance any second from now.
“Oh, Mr. Kenobi?” Jocasta Nu’s kind voice cut him off before he could get too far.
“Yes, Madame Nu?” He asked.
“You’re… Er, you’ve got some potatoes in your hair, dear.”
Obi-Wan frowned and turned his eyes up, noticing that his hair, while in disarray, was also coated in a white fluffy substance. He groaned as he reached up and grabbed a sample of it.
“That explains why Zeb asked me if I’m saving food for later, now doesn’t it?” He laughed half-heartedly. He glanced down towards his usual aisle and sighed. It seemed he would not only be giving Satine an apology, but something to tease him about for a very long time. At least that would make it a lot easier to accept his apology.
He tried to pick what he could from his hair and frowned even deeper at the realization that his clothes were covered in random splotches of food substance as well. He would certainly need to perform some cleaning and ironing spells on these later to get the stains out.
He was just about to vocalize a pun about wearing his dinner when he stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar sound of Satine’s laugh. Unless she was reading a particularly humorous tome, which he doubted, she wasn’t alone. As he slowly crept down the aisle and remained careful to be eclipsed by the bookcases around him, he peered around the corner to see none other than Fenn Rau sitting across from her.
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why it suddenly felt like he’d eaten something bad at the dinner party, but it certainly wasn’t settling well. Rau was sitting in Obi-Wan’s usual seat, which bore a greater sense of unease in his chest as they chatted excitedly about what appeared to be the ridiculousness of wizarding politics.
It seemed Rau had found his in.
If Satine didn’t seem to appreciate the present company, Obi-Wan surely would have made his presence known and a small part of him- the part that made his teeth bite down on his tongue incredibly hard- still wanted to. For what? It felt strangely similar to the analogy of a pissing contest at the core and he didn’t know why he would be so eager to butt his way into their conversation.
It certainly wasn’t the way Satine’s laugh lit up the room or how Rau seemed to relish in just being in her mere presence. It absolutely was not that he’d beat him here or sat in his seat. It wasn’t like the guilt that once pooled in his sternum was now slipping into regret, as it so often easily could.
No, not at all.
As Rau talked about how passionate his wizard-father was about activism and his mother was practically an environmentalist, Obi-Wan suddenly felt like he didn’t belong here at all. It was as though he’d fallen so far behind on a race he never intended on running and to his perspective, could not catch up.
Did he want to?
He shook his head. Since she was happy and clearly not sulking over not attending Palpatine’s disastrous dinner party, he supposed he would just catch her at a different time.
***
Anakin didn’t quite remember lashing out at Asajj Ventress, but everyone, including Miraj, looked at him with a decent dose of apprehension. It was a stark reminder of what it felt like to be the freak last year. He didn’t like it, but it was sobering.
What worried him most was how Palpatine would react to his reaction. He wasn’t sure how anyone in their right mind could possibly allow Ventress off the hook for what she’d said. Even Obi-Wan hadn’t provided some lecture about how he could control his own actions and not the words of others. Instead, his mentor tried to quietly guide him out of the room to cool off. Instead, Palpatine had stopped him to have a chat.
The music had abruptly stopped, though Anakin had been so busy trying to garner some form of revenge on Ventress for what she said to notice. Everyone else had completely wrecked the place with scraps of food. Those finger bowls had truly been terribly placed and more of a mess in the end. Anakin, like everything else around the room, was covered in the five course meal.
It was at least a little good to know that wizards couldn’t resist a good food fight either.
He wondered when Palpatine was going to speak. He looked around the room in disappointment before raising his wand just above his head.
“Tersus Sursum!” He dashed his wand in an arched movement and before Anakin’s eyes, a mop and broom came flying out of the cupboard and got to work. A rag wiped down the walls where stray splatter had gathered. Even the ceiling was being tended to, which neither of them could have possibly reached if they wanted. Dishes raised themselves in the air and started to move to an already running sink. Palpatine didn’t even have to focus on them to continue their routine.
Anakin, despite likely being in massive trouble, couldn’t help but yearn for such a trick when he had to do chores at home. Still, if he wasn’t going to make Anakin clean the place, he wondered what punishment would seem fit.
“I apologize for the mess, Professor.” Anakin said quietly.
The only thing Palpatine took the time to clean for himself was a strange contraption that sat across his mantle. It was a little wooden prism that had to be a paperweight, that Palpatine touched only with the washcloth in hand before setting it back down.
“What Ventress said upset you.” He said instead.
Anakin frowned, “Well, yeah. Where I’m from, you don’t disrespect someone’s mum like that.”
“Indeed, mothers are often a soft spot,” He folded his hands behind his back, facing the darkness of his room as the cleaning tools worked on their own accord, “You do not need to apologize, Anakin.”
This surprised Anakin even more, “Really?”
If Windu had it his way, Anakin likely would have been writing a 5000 word essay on why throwing potatoes at a girl was worthy of the death penalty… Or something along those lines.
“Something was done wrong by you and you evened the score.” He said and finally turned back to face the light, a small smile on his lips, “You really should not fear your anger, my boy. It is only healthy to explore it, to understand it, to become the kind of powerful wizard you wish to be one day.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Anakin said.
“But of course, my dear boy.” Palpatine smiled, “If I could make a recommendation, it’s that next time you wish to get back at Ventress, please ruin your own drapes.”
He chuckled, “Yes sir.”
Through the fog of relief and surprise that was overcoming his senses, Anakin finally remembered his purpose for truly attending the banquet. It had been hard in the midst of the chaos that he’d brought and was even more difficult to fathom when Palpatine was being so understanding.
He stopped in his tracks, which had obviously caught Palpatine’s attention.
“Is everything alright, Anakin?”
“Yeah, I just… I wanted to say I’m glad you’ve chosen to take me under your wing…” Anakin lingered in the doorway. “Any student would be lucky. Pureblood or half-blood or not.”
“It matters not to me what you are, Anakin.” Palpatine said, “I believe you will go on to do great things. I’ve believed that before we discovered your prophecy, have I not?”
Anakin nodded, “You have… But what was it about me that made you believe I was special?”
“I’m older than you can imagine, I’m sure.” He laughed a bit to himself, “One develops a knack for it after all these years.”
“Did you see something in Maul?” It wasn’t as discrete as he’d hoped to be, especially based on the way the smile flickered on Palpatine’s face before he shook his head numerous times in curious denial.
“Maul was a very troubled boy.” He shivered, “Quite troubled, indeed. A very different situation than you. I wanted to help him, whereas I believe one day, you will help me and the rest of the wizarding community.”
Anakin swallowed, “So, you weren’t close?”
“I mentored him as best I could,” He said sympathetically, “He used to live in that Shrieking Shack during the summers. He had nowhere else to go. I only wanted to help him. Opened up my office to him at any time, because I did see power in him. It was a dangerous sort, of course, so I knew I had to limit him in what he could learn. There were certain spells and paths to darkness that while someone like myself could merely study from an objective perspective, Maul could use for real damage.”
“What happened to him?” He asked.
“He…” Palpatine sighed, “He lost control one day. A young Twi’lek girl named Eldra Kaitis was found impaled by none other than Maul’s dagger.”
Could it have been the same dagger found in the parcel Maul sent him?
Anakin gasped, “But… Why?”
“I asked myself that very question.” He said as he walked over to the window to look outside, “And the only answer that allows me to properly sleep at night is knowing that there was no helping him. There are people who choose darkness, Anakin. Those people can grow to be strong and wise in their own right. Look at Dooku, for instance. While evil, of course, he still maintains his sanity and decorum. Maul, on the other hand, was born of it. And there is no use trying to sustain it.”
He swallowed, “You must have taken that quite hard.”
“Oh, I did.” He said, “It was my greatest failure to date.”
Anakin shook his head, “I’m sorry to bring this up, Professor. I’m sure it upsets you talking about it. I’ve just been trying to find out why Maul would ever want to come for me. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything to him.”
“Well, we are turning up on the anniversary of his first kill.” Palpatine said, “And in many ways, I believe Maul fancies himself set up.”
“By who?” Anakin frowned, “He did it himself.”
“And admitted to it.” He said gravely, “We can’t really trust the tongue of a mad-man, though, can we?”
“No,” Anakin said, “We can’t.”
After he’d turned to leave and bid Palpatine goodnight, the old man waited a long moment, choosing to retain the sullen and sympathetic mask he wore so well, before curling his wrinkled lips into a devious smile.
“Sending the boy to spy… Well played, Professor Qui-Gon.”
***
“You were right…” The apprentice said to the flames that crackled softly in Slytherin house. Not a single soul dared to be awake after the embarrassment they’d just been through. The luminescence of the green fire felt like a reflection of her soul.
“Good…” A hushed voice responded. “You know what you need to do.”
“Yes.” They said, eyes practically glowing in anticipation for what was to come next. “So, long as that monster Maul doesn’t get in our way.”
“I’m sure he’ll be taken care of.” Dooku’s sly grin could send chills even so close to the hot flames.
“How can you be so sure?” They asked.
“He has a bone to pick with my master,” Dooku said, “The inadequate brute is never wise enough to know his limits. He believes he has none.”
“I see,” They said, “And what of me?”
“Do you have the sword?” His deep voice rumbled in his throat.
“I do.”
“Oh, there will be plenty more where that comes from,” He said. “Plenty more indeed. I will see you over break so we can reconvene.”
***
Satine yawned as she finally made her way up the spiral staircase and into the Ravenclaw common room. She’d been intent on going straight to bed, but was stopped immediately by a very disheveled-looking Obi-Wan as he practically launched up from his spot on the couch, where he’d obviously been waiting for her.
“You’re back.” He said and it was immediately apparent that something was off with him.
For one thing, he looked like he’d just paced back and forth enough times to accumulate the steps for a full marathon. His face was red and he looked quite anxious over seeing her. It was clear he had been waiting for her though.
Another, was that he was covered in food.
She’d almost forgotten how cross she was with him when she saw how silly he truly looked. She moved to pick a piece of lettuce that was stuck to the collar of his shirt. “Did you happen to get into a fight with a blender this evening?”
“I won’t even start with you on asking what that is,” He said, “I just wanted to have a word with you regarding this evening.”
She closed her eyes and sighed, “And here I wanted to go to bed without an argument beforehand.”
“I’ll keep it brief, I swear.” He was so earnest, even with what looked to be potatoes that coated his hair to droop into his face.
“Alright,” She crossed her arms like she wasn’t about to listen to him anyway. She still wanted some clarification on why he looked like such a mess.
“You deserved to be asked out tonight on a proper date.” Obi-Wan said and Satine suddenly felt like the air in her lungs had been replaced with jelly by some cruel spell and he didn’t stop there, “In a way that made you feel like the beautiful person that you are… With the person you fancy.”
“I- Er- Uh”
“Anything intelligent would be good right now, thank you, Kryze.”
Luckily, he showed no signs of noticing the way her brain stopped producing normal and coherent thoughts.
“And more than anything, I want you to be happy.” He insisted, almost like he was convincing himself and he took her hands in his, “Trust me when I say you weren’t missing much tonight, aside from possibly seeing me get my face dunked in a pie…”
She felt laughter bubble up at that and was relieved for it, because she thought she might pass out soon if she didn’t have the excuse for a dramatic inhale of breath. Her cheeks might pop by how hard she must have been smiling.
His smile was radiant and nervous as he said, “But I promise you… This person you fancy… Feels the same way back.”
It was quite possible the angels were singing and a warm glow of sunshine prematurely hung over them in that moment. Her eyes flickered to his mouth as she stepped closer to him. She’d never seen someone look handsome while covered in casserole, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was an enigma in and of itself.
“Oh, does he?” She was finally able to say and could have patted herself on the back right then and there for not making it sound like a little chipmunk squeak. It definitely ran the risk of doing so by how little oxygen her brain was getting right now.
“He does.” His mouth twitched and if she wasn’t so busy buzzing off the shock that rattled through her from how unexpected this confession was, she would have thought he looked a bit green. Then again, he was never great with handling his feelings.
“Is he going to do anything about it?” She asked after a long beat of Obi-Wan searching her face with his calculating eyes.
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” He said, “I think he’s probably a bit intimidated.”
“There’s absolutely no reason for that.” She said, “He can tell me anything.”
“Yes, well, I’m glad for that.” Obi-Wan said, “You should tell him.”
“Alright then,” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hands in an attempt to both center her courage and tamper down the butterflies in her stomach, “Ben, I-”
“Oh, Satine, you forgot your quill in the library!” Fenn Rau trotted up the stairs behind her and she swore, pacifism be damned, that she almost shoved him backwards. They shared a laugh or two this evening, but had drawled on and on to the point where her eyes felt they might droop shut earlier. On top of that, he did have the awful tendency to pop up at the worst of times.
“Ah, Rau, brilliant.” Obi-Wan didn’t seem as enthusiastic as his words tried to make him out to be, “Satine wanted to talk to you about something.”
Satine shot back around to Obi-Wan, eyes wide in shock, “I what?”
“You know, what we were just discussing.” He said, “Literally three seconds-”
“-I wasn’t- You weren’t- He is not-” And just like that, Satine’s brain stuttered back into the present and realized what had unfortunately been going on.
“Are you alright?” Poor Rau, who never asked for any of this, was looking at Satine like she was having a stroke. Then again, she very well might be.
“She was fine a moment ago.” Obi-Wan placed a warm hand on Satine’s arm, which would normally be a very comforting gesture. Except right now, it felt sweltering under the circumstances.
Where there had once been the sweet and soft sensation of what she’d hoped to be verbalized mutual affection, there was now the fervid storm that was just how stupid they both were at the same time.
Him, for failing to use that brilliant mind of his for anything outside of reading a book and her for ever believing that it would be that easy.
“What is it?” Fenn asked.
She knew that because of Obi-Wan’s idiocy, she had to say something, but she was having a difficult time wrapping her head around anything except for the fact that after all of this time, Obi-Wan was under the impression that she fancied Fenn Rau somehow.
“I’d like to switch patrol times.” She spat, “I fear if I have to look at him in the morning I might just turn him sunny-side up.”
“Er… Alright.” Fenn said slowly, but likely more because he was a bit nervous to say anything else. Because one boy in this room had to have a little bit of sense, he slithered away from them to finish whatever was obviously going on. She only wished Obi-Wan exercised that sort of intuition every once in a while.
After the door shut behind him, Obi-Wan turned to her with a frown.
“What was that?”
She pointed a finger at him, anger spewing out every which way, “That was you being an absolute moron!”
“Satine!” He called after her as she shoved past him towards the staircase, “I was only trying to help you get a bloody date!”
“I didn’t want a bloody date!” She fired back, venom pumping heavily through her veins. Oh, if only softer words came as easily, “I wanted you to stop being a fool and it seems that is a lost cause of a wish, now isn’t it?”
“I resent that!” He countered, “You’re the one who’s been snapping off at me like I’m supposed to be a mind-reader! I saw the two of you together and I know he likes you. What else was I to think?”
“That if I were ever given the choice between you and anyone else in the entire cosmic universe, I would always always choose you. Even when you’re being positively ridiculous and have unsavory food in your hair and on your clothes. There’s not even a competition as far as I’m concerned. I just want you to know that.”
“That I shouldn’t have to spell everything out for you!” She argued, “That he’s not my type, I don’t know! You’re just supposed to know! Not pawn me off to the first person that expresses interest.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He said with a lot less fire than before, “I’m sorry.”
She sighed through her nose, finding it difficult to be mad at him when he was looking up at her with sad eyes like that. “It’s alright.”
He slowly traversed up the steps to meet her and then stand over her in height, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I know.” She said quietly. “Did you want it to be him?”
“Heavens, no.” He blurted out and then coughed, “I’m not sure who I would have liked it to be, though.”
She almost wanted to shake him to get him to process that thought just a little more and he reached out and hesitantly took her hand, “But whoever he is, he’s quite lucky.”
“You’re still an idiot.” She said, meaning it quite thoroughly.
“I know.” He said just as gently, “But I’d like to think I’m your idiot.”
Yes, indeed. And Satine was too for her treasonous heart’s increase in pace at his quiet words. They hadn’t been the ones she’d wanted, but they would do.
***
Cody shoved his things into his duffle bag. He never necessitated bringing that much home for Christmas break. He didn’t see why he would need to. He had some winter clothes at home and most of what he would be doing consisted of playing outside anyway. Underwear, socks, toiletries, and his winter outerwear would more than do.
And of course, all of his Quidditch stuff, which admittedly tended to provide a bit of weight, much to the prefects’ verbal complaints when they got stuck with luggage duty. Another large part of his exit duties was to ensure his brothers were ready to go. His father would have his head if he didn’t make sure the other boys were well-prepared.
The twins were mostly attune to this routine by now and despite their tendencies of playing around, knew better than to test the formidable stoicism of Jango Fett. It wasn’t like Rex was keen on being a bugger, but he was still a little guy and often unprepared for leaving, no matter how many times Cody asked him if he’d started packing.
“Why do you get to pack last minute and I don’t?” He complained.
“Because I’ve got it down to a science and you forgot to bring socks home last year,” Cody said plainly, “You’re lucky we all had hand-me-downs ready to go.”
In all fairness, growing up the youngest of seven likely resulted in Rex never being short on hand-me-downs.
“We’re wizards, I could have just washed them.” He said.
“Muggles can wash their clothes too, mate.”
“Don’t act like you know how.” He complained as he dejectedly sat back on his bunk. Cody had already inspected his littlest brother’s bag and approved that he’d packed everything necessary, but his forlorn expression was towards the already made up bunk across from him.
Rex was still quite cross about his falling out with Skywalker, of which the boy absolutely refused to budge on speaking about. He claimed he was fine and better off without him, but Cody caught him more than once pulling out the issues of comic books that Anakin had given him the previous year.
A couple weeks off would do the boy some good, clear his head and all that. Cody, meanwhile, was just looking forward to having time outside of classes to scramble up a strategy for the back half of the year. So, their team hadn't gotten off on the show stopping start that he’d wished for them. A little bit of stakes was good for any team. They were very much still in the game and so long as Maul or any creepy possessions didn’t cancel the season, they had nothing to fear.
“Alright, well, I’m heading down to the train. Are you coming?” He asked.
“Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll wait for the twins.”
“Right, well don’t wait up,” Cody snorted as he looked over to Echo and Fives as they were debating which pranks from Zonko’s to bring home and more importantly, which to unleash on their older brothers first.
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Rex puffed out his chest.
“Good man,” Cody smiled.
The boy needed some more confidence and Cody learned by now that it was no good in taking him down right now, even in a joking matter.
He clapped the shoulders of a few of his teammates on his way down and out the Gryffindor common room, his trunks floating aimlessly behind him as he went. Many other students did the same as he entered the chaos that was the hallway outside of Gryffindor’s entrance. Prefects led and escorted younger students, reminding them to also bring the necessities home.
He perked up when he caught a glimpse of Kenobi’s pristine head, who was just finishing a side conversation with Bail Organa. It seemed the two were trading notes of some kind.
“What’d you get stuck with this time?” He asked.
Kenobi sighed and looked down to his clipboard, “I’m to count heads once aboard the train.”
“Right on, you’ll be along soon then.” He said.
“Hopefully,” He shrugged, “Everyone’s running around like it’s a madhouse today. Not sure why everything feels different.” He leaned in, “Between you and me, I awoke with a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.”
Cody snorted, “Probably lingering food poisoning from that rich food from the banquet.”
“I mean it, Cody,” He said seriously, “Bail said no one in his house slept very well last night.”
Cody scratched the back of his neck, “Well, that’s pretty unusual for the Hufflepuffs. What do they have to worry about? Not like they’re concerned about winning the House Cup.”
“It’s just uneasy that all of the students will be free from Hogwarts protective barriers for the first time since Maul released himself.” He sighed heavily, clearly trying to convince himself, “That’s all.”
“Yeah, well, I reckon Maul is trying to hide deep in the mountains or something, away from people that are going to catch him,” Cody waved him off, “You just need some fresh air.”
“You look green,” Fenn Rau approached them unannounced and while Cody didn’t have nearly the same level of beef with the fifth year, he also didn’t appreciate his unprecedented arrivals in the middle of private conversations.
“Thanks,” Kenobi frowned.
“Satine must have really let you have it last night, huh?” He smirked, which made Kenobi look like he would take great pleasure in smacking the smugness from his face. Kenobi was a great deal more cordial than Cody, though.
Unfortunately, Cody was merely just flabbergasted at what he could possibly be talking about.
“What happened last night?” Cody asked Kenobi, whose face went a shade pink.
“Just a bit of a misunderstanding,” He shrugged and Cody knew by now not to take his casual aplomb so literally.
“Oh, you should have seen it!” Rau laughed, “Satine looked like she wanted to mess him up! If she wasn’t so committed to her stance against any form of violence, I’d say she would have! Prefect status be damned!”
Wow, that must have been quite the fight for them to be so caught up that they didn’t stop on Rau’s behalf. Cody would need details later.
“I’ll have you know, everything is perfectly fine. Don’t you worry,” Kenobi said tightly and looked back down to his clipboard, “Don’t you have guard duty with Zeb?”
Rau blew a breath out through his nose, “Yeah, I just hope he doesn’t still have such awful gas. I don’t know who thought it fit to give him leftovers, but it was cruel.”
When Kenobi smiled a bit at the fifth year Ravenclaw’s departure, Cody nearly fell over in a fit of laughter.
“Maybe you should have been a Slytherin!” He smacked his arm.
Kenobi fully broke his pristine facade for a moment, offering him a grin, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
***
“Need help with that?” Professor Fisto asked as Anakin struggled to drag his suitcase behind him. Normally, his stuff wouldn’t be so heavy, but Cody had insisted they practice over break and that meant bringing equipment home. His mother was going to kill him when this weighed down the trunk of her car.
“Yes sir,” He nodded eagerly as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor easily plucked the bag up and carried it by the handle. They walked in tandem down the winding path that led them towards the Hogsmeade station. A few giggling girls were not far behind them, likely not in awe of Anakin.
He looked up at the aquatic professor in scrutinization. He was, no doubt, a great professor and taught them more dueling tactics than Anakin could count, but he really didn’t see why they all drooled over him.
“Where do you live?” He asked.
“I’m from the coast.” Professor Fisto smiled, “I do look forward to dipping my toes in some real water.”
“Do you live underwater?” He supposed a lake didn’t count, but then again, Anakin did prefer swimming in the ocean.
“People like me kind of have to,” He smiled, “Aside from wizarding settlements, muggles might have some questions when looking at me unless I’m in disguise.”
“Living in disguise would be pretty hard,” Anakin nodded, “I don’t get why everything needs to be so divided.”
“Blood-torn history,” When he shook his head, his long green tentacles wiggled and shifted on their own accord, “I hope that someday we can find mutual peace. I don’t think I’m alone in that hope either.”
“You want peace?” He raised an eyebrow, “But you’re the one who started the dueling club!”
“To teach you to protect yourself,” Kit Fisto said, “I’d prefer diplomatic negotiations towards a fight any day, but that isn’t how the world works right now. They say you’re going to be the one to set it right.”
“I don’t see how,” Anakin admitted. Talking to Kit Fisto was surprisingly easy, considering they didn’t know each other that well outside of class. Anakin had a good grade in DADA and was top of his tier in the dueling club and up until now, that seemed more than enough.
“You’ll have help,” Fisto nodded, “Everyone needs it.”
“Even bad guys?” He asked.
“Bad guys think they don’t need help, which is part of their weaknesses that can be exploited.”
“Some people think Maul had help back in the day, but I don’t know much about that,” Anakin shrugged and glanced towards the Shrieking Shack. It had a different connotation now that he understood it was Maul who committed that awful murder there that Rex had referenced previously.
“Maybe he did, but he’s on his own now,” Fisto shrugged, “Evil, like the Sith, don’t flourish with teamwork. They always get too big for their britches in my experience. That’s why grouping together to fight is the best laid plan we could have. To combat an evil like Maul, for instance, it’s going to take an army.”
Anakin hoped that’s all it took.
***
Winter break had crept up on her this year. With the dementors still lurking on the premises and the threat of Maul and Dooku looming over them, the holidays just didn’t feel the same. Satine had been tasked with roll call of every fourth year and Obi-Wan, who was working beside her, was in charge of the fifth years. They worked steadily beside one another until every single student had been boarded onto the Hogwarts express.
“I’m only missing Rau,” He tilted his head, scrutinizing his list, “He should still be with Zeb guarding the first car.”
“I’m missing someone...” Satine was running through her list again, double, triple checking before she raised her hand waving over Professor Qui-Gon who looked at her very concerned to have been needed, “Bultar Swan’s not here,” She handed her list to their professor who frowned.
“Obi-Wan?” He asked, tucking her list under his arm, “Are you finished?” He nodded and handed over his as well, “Alright, the two of you need to get on the train, I’ll check this out.”
He waved them off. Obi-Wan watched him walk away with a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, but when Satine touched his shoulder, he shook her off with a smile.
“After you,” He bowed at her gesturing for her to get on the train which she did happily.
“Such a gentleman,” She joked, leading them towards their usual cabin.
Things were much more strict this year, that much she could tell as she settled into her seat across from Cody. The train wouldn’t leave until everyone was accounted for, which perhaps made more sense than just making everyone who missed the train stay at school for the holidays. They weren’t allowing many students to stay this year, only those who made a case to the Headmaster himself, which were few and far between. She supposed the threat was just too big.
“You’re going to Qui-Gon’s ‘unofficial’ holiday party aren’t you?” Obi-Wan’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him. Why was he asking her that? Did that mean he wanted to see her? She mentally chastised herself. Of course he’d want to see her, and Cody. Anything was likely better than spending more time in that house of his, though the thought did make her heart hurt.
“I am,” She confirmed, “Are you?”
He nodded, “I’ll find a way.”
“Cody?” She broke away from staring into Obi-Wan’s grey-blue eyes that always looked just a little melancholic when they sat together on the train.
“Of course!” He perked up, “Free food and a party! The Fett boys love a good time.”
They were interrupted by Professor Kit Fisto, who popped his head into his compartment, marked them down on his list and then with an apologetic smile closed their door. He needn’t explain, Yoda had warned them that morning that there was to be no moving about the train, their doors were magically locked and would only open in an emergency. In little time at all, the train whistle blew and she felt the lurch as it pulled out of the station. Her thoughts felt lighter as she realized they must have found the elusive Bultar Swan. She had likely just slipped through Satine’s fingers.
***
“Send the train,” Windu had instructed even over Qui-Gon’s rather loud objection.
“Mace we’re still missing a fourth year-” He had called, but once the train started there was really no stopping it.
“We’ll find her,” Windu nodded towards the castle, “We can take her home through the Floo Network, but there’s no use halting the train any longer for one student,” Qui-Gon didn’t look like he much agreed, but he could do nothing else to protest so instead he just looked down at Satine’s careful handwriting.
“Well, let’s get a move on then,” Qui-Gon turned towards Hogsmeade, they had a bit of a walk back to the castle gates. A walk that Windu spent searching for any traces of a possible kidnapping. He doubted Ms. Swan was valuable to the likes of Dooku or Maul, but then again, he was hardly sure what they wanted with Mr. Skywalker. Prophecy or not they chose quite a handful of a student to go after.
He found nothing amiss, not even a broken stick, by the time they entered into the castle, the large doors slamming shut behind them. Wordlessly both he and Qui-Gon took out their wands and latched the door shut. There would be no need to open them again any time soon.
“Headmaster Yoda,” Qui-Gon greeted and sure enough when Mace turned around he was greeted with the sight of his old friend. Yoda hadn’t been standing there before and never moved very quickly, yet always seemed to appear places where Mace felt he should have heard him coming. If apparition wasn’t forbidden in the school, he would have blamed such a feat on that.
“Back so soon, you are?” He questioned and Qui-Gon frowned.
“We’re missing a student,” Qui-Gon seemed not to know when such things should be kept on the down low. Mace crossed his arms already looking to see if anyone had overheard. Yoda frowned, a grave sort of expression crossing his face.
“Find this student, we will.”
Mace knew that Yoda was under immense outside pressure. The Kenobi’s had of course let their anger with the Headmaster show at the conferences, but they weren’t the only family to express several grievances and concerns.
“We will,” Mace repeated as he nodded to both the Headmaster and Qui-Gon before turning and heading off to check the dungeons.
Qui-Gon would check the Ravenclaw common room and the Headmaster would likely check amongst the students. Mace had to frown when he remembered that because of the tunnels, there was much more ground to cover and she could even be in another common room with her friends. With that thought in mind he paused in front of a rather unassuming wall.
Pressing his hand to the wall he muttered a quiet, “Sneezewort,” before the wall practically sucked him inside. It was an unwelcome feeling and he wasn’t sure how the Slytherin’s had become immune to the way the stones scraped against their skin as they phased through. Perhaps they hadn’t.
The inside of the common room glowed green from the light filtering down through the lake's surface. He was greeted with a couple very confused looking Slytherins. A third year boy who had been watching a few of the aquatic residents swim around and a 7th year girl with a few books spread out before her. Both stared up at him as if they were waiting to get in trouble. When he did nothing, but march to check the boys dormitory, the girl stood up.
“What mysterious thing are you looking for now?” She huffed. Mace turned back towards her. She had her arms crossed and was looking up at him in annoyance, “You think we have Maul locked up down here or something?”
He shouldn’t be so surprised, of course the students were on edge, especially the older students. School hadn’t been as chaotic and dangerous before last year, certainly the extra stress was getting to the older students, especially the seventh years trying to take their NEWT exams.
“I’m looking for a student,” Mace decided not to give her the full details, lest Ms. Swan was trying to hide from them, “Would you check the girls' dormitories for me?” The seventh year straightened, she looked appreciative to have been given such a task. With a nod she hurried up the stairs.
Neither of them ended up finding anyone else and Mace left their common room without another word. The rest of the dungeons were just as boring as they usually were. He barely even looked in Palpatine’s office, there certainly seemed no where for anyone to hide in there unless they curled up under the desk or managed to fit in the chest in the corner.
As he ascended the stairs, of course he nearly ran right into a first year Ravenclaw girl who looked particularly upset. She looked surprised to see him, looking up at him with the wide eyes of a child before she stuck a finger out, pointing towards the far end of the school.
“The Headmaster and Professor Qui-Gon are looking for you,” She let him know with a head nod, “No one can enter Ravenclaw tower.”
***
The train hissed into the station and students piled out chatting amicably with one another. Despite the rather dangerous nature that the year had begun with, the holidays seemed to have lifted spirits well enough. Or perhaps, Anakin considered, it was once again being with your family.
Anakin felt a little out of place just standing in a sea of students trying to stand on his tippy toes to see over their heads. He managed to pick out Hevy in the crowd, and his heart panged. Rex was still rather angry with him, Anakin hadn’t sat with him on the train. He’d actually ended up stuck between Miraj Scintel and Asajj Ventress in a compartment full of Slytherins. It hadn’t been his favorite company to keep. Especially since none of them seemed particularly interested in the Christmas cartoons he was hoping to catch on TV.
He tripped and nearly fell into what seemed to be the eye of the storm. Students still pushed and shoved all around them, but all were avoiding this particular space.
“Oh Anakin,” He recognized the voice and sure enough when he looked up he was looking into the eyes of Obi-Wan’s mother. She was smiling down at him as if pleased he’d landed in her presence. Obi-Wan was standing a little behind her and although he was standing at attention his eyes seemed to hold a lecture that Anakin was grateful he couldn’t deliver at the moment, “How wonderful it is to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you again too, ma’am,” He nodded at her, but tried to look behind her for a hint of the woman he really wanted to see.
“Lost?” Obi-Wan’s mum looked concerned and even Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask him, but Anakin shook his head.
“Nope! I’m just looking for my mum,” He assured them, “She said she’d pick me up at the station, but I wouldn’t put it past that sleazebag Watto to make her late.”
“Late for picking up her own son though,” Obi-Wan’s mother tsked as she looked at him, “Perhaps we could accompany you home?”
“Mother-” Obi-Wan didn’t seem to agree, but a glance from his mother was enough to get him to stand down it seemed.
“No that’s ok,” Anakin shook his head, “She’ll be here, I just have to be patient,” He grinned, “I’m sure Obi-Wan knows that’s not my best skill, but as the Chosen One, I’m sure I can handle it.”
His mentor seemed to disapprove of his joke, but it made Mrs. Kenobi laugh so he guessed it wasn’t too bad, “If you’re sure. We could always take you back to our place.”
“No thanks,” Anakin had to admit, the offer was tempting. He was curious to where Obi-Wan lived especially since his family had quite a bit of money, but he was far too eager to get back to his own abode, “Thanks for the broomstick by the way, it flies great!” He’d sent a thank you note already, but his mum always said doing things in person looked better.
“Glad to hear it-” She was likely going to continue their conversation, but Anakin caught a glimpse of wispy brown hair.
“I think I see her!” He pointed over the crowd, “Got to go, bye!”
He dipped and dodged through the crowd again before finally reaching her.
“Mum!” But the women who turned had a rounder face and deep green eyes. Anakin nearly tripped over his feet, as to not run into her, “Oh.”
That certainly wasn’t his mother.
***
Qui-Gon was pondering.
A difficult feat as the raven door knocker was spewing riddles faster than anyone could answer them. Such noise made it hard to think at all. Headmaster Yoda was doing little to help reign in control, he simply answered riddles that had been asked nearly 5 minutes prior. It wasn’t getting them anywhere.
“Mace,” Qui-Gon heard the other man’s footsteps before he saw him. Gryffindor’s Head of House seemed just as confused as he was.
“What’s all this?” Mace questioned inspecting the brass knocker before raising an eyebrow at Qui-Gon.
“I was hoping you would know,” He answered with a sigh, “It was like this when I got here. Must have been some kind of spell.”
Mace frowned, “Not one I know. It would have to be fairly powerful to break such an artifact,” That much Qui-Gon had already known.
“Do away with the door, we could,” Yoda suggested, but Qui-Gon jumped between the Headmaster’s wand and the door.
“There must be another way,” Qui-Gon grimaced, he really didn’t want to have to find a fair replacement for his house. Such lines of thinking reminded him of the tunnels. There weren’t any leading to Ravenclaw house of course, but tunnels were not the only way for wizards to get around, “The fireplace!” He shouted suddenly enough to scare off a stray Hufflepuff from the area.
“Are our fireplaces within the Floo network?” Mace questioned looking towards the Headmaster who shook his head.
“Officially, they are not,” He put a small hand to his chin, “However locally, hmmmm.”
“My office is closest,” Qui-Gon recommended and hurried off with Mace and the Headmaster following behind.
***
Mace had to admit, this was a rather clever idea. Qui-Gon was consistently proving himself as both a Ravenclaw and the best choice for their Head of House. Still the man was notoriously messy and Mace nearly tripped over a stack of philosophy books piled just high enough to not be noticeable at first. It was a far cry from Mace’s rather organized and clean office. Despite these barriers, Qui-Gon never seemed to lose anything. In fact he pulled his pot of Floo powder out from under a pillow as if it had always been there. Mace quite doubted that was the case.
Qui-Gon was about to thrust his hand into the powder when Mace held out his hand to stop him.
“Wait,” Mace gestured for the man to pass him the jar which he did with a rather skeptical look, “We don’t know if we’re going to be trapped on the inside and the school certainly can’t be down 3 caretakers,” Both Qui-Gon and Yoda exchanged hesitant looks. Mace was glad that he had been with them, if he hadn’t the other two may have gotten themselves trapped within the common room for hours before someone would have noticed.
“I’ll go,” Qui-Gon suggested, “It is my house after all.”
“Admirable,” Mace nodded, but refused to hand back the jar to Qui-Gon, “I have more experience however,” Qui-Gon gave him a foul look, Mace paid him no mind, “I’ll go, if the girl is there I’ll find her.”
“Wait on the other side of the door, I shall,” Headmaster Yoda decided with a nod, “Meet Professor Windu when he is done searching I will.”
“So what? I’m just supposed to wait here?” Qui-Gon frowned at Mace’s nod of affirmation, “And what is the point in that?”
“You never know,” Mace frowned, “Opening up a Floo network, even within the school could make us vulnerable for attack, someone should monitor it,” He wasn’t really sure if it would or not, but he felt they couldn’t be too safe. They’d already found a fatal flaw when Skywalker had been able to previously use Dooku’s fireplace to attempt traversing to Hogsmeade.
“Alright fine,” Qui-Gon relented, stepping aside, “We’ll do it your way, but do be swift, Ms. Swan may not even be up there.”
“I’m not the type to doddle, Jinn,” Mace reminded him as he stepped into the fireplace.
“Ravenclaw Common Room.”
The world bended and stretched. Qui-Gon’s office was replaced with bricks and entryways of several different choices, but thankfully the common room was a relatively short trip. If there hadn’t been for such odd circumstances, this would be considered a rather lazy move even by wizarding standards.
He stepped out of the fireplace and the blue and silver of the common room came into focus past the green of the fire and he looked around for anything out of place or odd. He fingered his wand, not eager to draw it, lest a student would be at the other end, but he certainly didn’t want to leave himself unguarded from attack. It was the sort of thinking one didn’t unlearn even after leaving the aurors.
Nothing so much as swayed in the breeze however so he let himself relax just a touch. He wasn’t in Ravenclaw’s common room much, but he knew which book to look for on the shelf to reveal the girl’s dormitory. He’d check there first as it was more likely that she had simply run up to grab something and gotten locked inside.
The bookshelf creaked softly as it bowed to the side to admit him. There was no one on the stairs and no one made an appearance even as he tried stepping loudly enough to give away his presence.
“Hello?” He called, his students should easily recognize his voice, they heard it at least twice a week.
There was no response. It felt almost too silent and his fingers brushed against his wand once more. Well if no one was around, it wouldn’t hurt to draw it. Pointing his wand low in case he did encounter a rogue student, he pushed the door open to the 4th year girl’s dorm slowly.
At the far side of the room, facing away from him was Bultar Swan, but she didn’t make any movements at his entry.
“Ms. Swan,” Mace called, stepping carefully across the room. Still she didn’t move so he put a gentle hand on her shoulder before rapidly pulling away.
It was a cool sensation rather than a warm one that had him ripping his hand away from the lost girl. Now that he was close enough he could see an unnatural sheen across her skin. As he walked around her his heart seemed to freeze just like the expression of shock and terror engraved on the girl’s face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open like she was going to scream. Her hands were going for her wand, but she hadn’t made it in time. It seemed that neither had he.
***
The streets of London were rather busy as the sun lowered in the sky. It was likely rush hour and Anakin was just trying to get home. He’d let Artoo out to fly on his own, it was one less thing to carry and he already had his massive trunk he was dragging behind him.
He’d waited at the station until even the train had disappeared and he was starting to wish he’d taken the Kenobi’s up on their offer, even if Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed to like the idea. It would certainly beat carrying everything. He bet that a family like the Kenobi’s had a big broom or a lot of Floo powder. Or maybe they could have even apparated him there. He knew Obi-Wan was in a special class for it and he assumed nearly every witch or wizard got their license out of convenience.
If he hadn’t been in a fight with Rex he supposed the clones would have helped him out. They had lingered at the station for an awfully long time before finally departing. He thought he’d felt eyes on him, but every time he looked over they were busy wrestling with each other or talking too loudly. Anakin felt quite a lot of envy towards their antics. He missed Rex more than he’d admit.
At least he’d finally made it to his street. He could see the sign for Watto’s seedy pub and he would have made a run for it to show that greedy bastard where he could shove it the next time he made his mum work a shift when she had other, more important plans, but his luggage was holding him back. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the smell of stale booze and grease. It would have been pretty disgusting if it wasn’t a little nostalgic. As much as he despised the likes of Watto and the way his mum had to break her back just to afford the rent for their apartment, it was still home.
“Oh if it isn’t little Ani!” Watto crowed nearly knocking over one of his waitresses, “Tell your mum rent’s due.”
“When is it not due,” Anakin muttered under his breath before speaking loud enough for the owner to hear him over the din of patrons, “Have you seen her? She was supposed to come pick me up,” He made sure to say it in an accusatory tone even if such things were lost on the man.
“Eh, not today, grab the spare and go on up,” He shrugged, “Maybe she forgot.”
“Not likely,” Anakin whispered as he pushed past him. It was much more likely that she’d fallen asleep, Watto never had her working consistent hours and often she worked more than she was home. It wouldn’t be completely out of the question for her to have slept through an alarm. Still it was the first time she hadn’t shown up for him and he did feel a twinge of sadness at the thought.
Anakin snatched the spare key to their apartment off the pegboard in Watto’s smelly office before dragging his suitcase up the stairs. He had to use two hands since he couldn’t use magic and had no one else to help him. He was certain that if he had asked the owner he would have just gotten laughed at. He didn’t want his stupid help anyways.
He knocked on the door first, “Hello? Mum? It’s me! Anakin!” When there wasn’t any response, Anakin fumbled with the key until he felt the tumblers in the lock click. He pushed the door open and hesitated.
The air felt… stale.
Not eager to step inside, he called out again.
“Mum! You forgot to come to the train station! It’s okay though, I’m not mad!”
There was no response.
Anakin felt his throat tighten and his heart pick up. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, he wasn’t really supposed to use magic except for studying, but he doubted such rules would really stop him.
He took a deep breath before stepping inside. The door creaked shut behind him.
The first thing he noticed was their dining room chairs strewn across the floor. That was pretty weird because Anakin always got in trouble for not pushing them in when he was done. He rationalized that sometimes his mother got to do things he wasn’t allowed too, maybe she didn’t always have to replace the chairs. He stepped into the kitchen, nothing else seemed out of place, but when he opened the fridge he nearly vomited at the smell.
Sour milk.
His mother was always really good at getting fresh groceries, but maybe she’d just forgotten, it had happened once before.
“Mum! The milk’s gone bad!” He called again and strained his ears for an answer.
Silence.
He swallowed past a lump steadily growing in his throat. Was this some sort of joke? He hoped not, because it really wasn’t very funny.
There was nothing amiss in the living room, but also, no sign of his mum. He didn’t bother checking in his own room, as she was rarely in there. She always said she wasn’t very interested in his comics, but she was a good mum and listened to him talk about them anyways. He felt his eyes water, it must be a little dusty.
He knocked on his mother’s bedroom door, certainly not wanting to enter without notifying her; she always said it was always good to be polite. With no answer though he had no choice but to push the door open.
Feathers.
There were feathers everywhere. It was like the pillows had exploded and it coated the room. He stepped on inside and nearly tripped over a fallen book. That book only fell off the shelf when he opened the door too quickly. His mother knew that and he knew that, so why had it fallen?
Unless someone else was there. Had been there.
“If someone’s in here! Come out!” He managed to shout, clutching his wand like a lifeline and trying to think of a few dueling spells Professor Fisto had drilled into them. He supposed a good stupify would work. He’d have to explain it to the school, but it would save him and his mother.
Not so much as a feather moved and Anakin tried to calm his racing heart enough that he could hear something beyond the rushing of blood through his ears. He picked his way across the floor. What if his mother was here, but hurt? He certainly didn’t want to see that, but if she was, he would have to help her. Maybe he should have tried to learn some healing spells. He’d ask Madame Nema after this all got sorted out.
He peaked quickly over the side of her bed and was almost relieved when he saw nothing. He checked under the bed in case anyone was hiding under there, but saw nothing, but dust and feathers.
He walked over to check the bathroom and something crunched underfoot. Kneeling down he brushed aside a feather and gasped. A shattered frame, glass scattered across the floor. It was a picture of Anakin, standing proudly in his wizard’s robes. The picture didn’t move, but Anakin sure did- running out the door of his Mum’s bedroom and back into the living room.
She wasn’t here. There was no sign of her and the house didn’t look very lived in. All but the chairs and the bedroom with all the feathers. He felt like he was being watched and kept looking over his shoulder as he nearly shattered another picture frame reaching for the pot holding their small emergency Floo powder. He wanted to leave, but what if his mum did come home? She could walk in at any minute and they could be scared together about the possible house burglary. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to be here alone.
Another thought came to him, he could call using the fireplace. Qui-Gon had taught him and he knew the offices at the castle were connected to the network. He just had to hope the Professor was in his office.
“Coniunctionem,” Anakin’s voice shook as he said the spell, sprinkling the powder into the fireplace. Flames sprung up where there hadn’t been any and Anakin blurted out, “Professor Qui-Gon Jinn's Office!” Before shoving his head into the fireplace.
Anakin nearly jumped when he saw Qui-Gon immediately, already staring into the fire in surprise.
“Anakin!” Words sounded weird through the fire, the tones of Qui-Gon’s voice being translated into crackles and pops of the fire.
“Qui-Gon!” He practically cried, “I need help!” He was the Chosen One, he’d been reminding himself of that all year and he shouldn’t need help. Here, however, he felt helpless, scared, and alone.
And Professor Fisto had just said that everyone needed help sometimes.
“What’s wrong?” The lecture likely on the tip of the Professor’s tongue disappeared instantly and concern took its place.
“It’s my mum! She’s-” He suddenly felt like he couldn’t speak, tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to pour over. He tried to hold them back not wanting to accidentally extinguish the fire, but it was hard. He hadn’t really even acknowledged the truth in the situation and trying to say it out loud felt horrible, “She’s-” He couldn’t say it, even needing Qui-Gon’s help, it was all too sudden.
“Hang on I’ll be right there!” Qui-Gon was already ripping the lid off the jar that held his own Floo powder.
“Go you must,” Anakin hadn’t even noticed Headmaster Yoda, who was standing just in the doorway, “Handle everything else, we will,” Anakin didn’t really care whether or not he’d interrupted something important.
Hogwarts could burn to the ground for all he cared. His mother was missing and that was the only thing he cared about.
***
Qui-Gon held onto the boy’s shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably while the police, both magical and muggle swarmed the apartment. He’d called the auror’s first of course, but he couldn’t deny that Shmi’s disappearance could be because of muggle means.
The owner of the dirty pub had shrugged and said Shmi hadn’t shown up for her shifts for awhile, but it hadn’t yet caused him financial trouble so he hadn’t worried about it. Anakin had said some less than kind things to the man and Qui-Gon made a note to talk to him about it later, but he supposed it was hard to fault a twelve year old when his whole world had just gotten uprooted.
“Why,” The word was spoken so softly Qui-Gon thought for a moment he may have imagined it.
“Pardon?” He leaned down to be able to hear better.
“Why’d they take her away?” He managed to speak louder, though his voice wobbled and the threat of more tears was not far off, “She never did anything wrong, why her?”
Qui-Gon let out a long breath, that was not an easy question to answer. Not like such questions about where the boy would live. He would stay with Qui-Gon of course. And as for what they should do next, it was a waiting game unfortunately.
It was certainly not the time to mention his earlier suspicions. However, Qui-Gon never would have guessed that this ominous danger would befall Shmi, who was practically disconnected to the wizarding world in total.
“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon admitted, he always found it was best not to lie, not at a time like this, “Sometimes bad things happen to good people-”
“It’s not FAIR!” Anakin stomped his foot on the ground.
“Life isn’t always as fair as it should be,” Qui-Gon knelt down so he could be at eye level with the boy.
“I want her,” He sniffed, tears already falling once more, “I want my mum.”
“I know, I know,” Qui-Gon said solemnly, “But I’ll promise you this,” Anakin looked up through the droplets on his lashes to meet Qui-Gon’s steady stare, “I’ll do everything I can to help find her, ok?” It was a weighty promise, but one that Qui-Gon was willing to make. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Shmi and he certainly wanted her found for Anakin’s sake.
Anakin managed to give him a nod even as he cried harder at the thought and Qui-Gon pulled him into a hug so he could have a shoulder to cry on, quite literally. No longer looking into the face of a child he felt his face fall into a dejected frown. What was the point of all this? Was it the prophecy? Was it simply an act of villainy? All concerns for his own safety at the hands of the missing necklace went out the window. Anakin’s safety was really his only concern. He had the Chosen One, a young boy, in his care and he would do everything necessary to keep him safe.
***
Despite the bustling holiday cheer that warmed the walls and everything between at Professor Qui-Gon Jinn’s humble abode, Obi-Wan found himself occupying the kitchen more often than not. He knew from experience and constant nagging from his mother that hosting was a complicated and exhausting duty and grew up shouldering part of that burden in order to keep up critical appearances. Of course, the parties his family hosted were nothing like this.
It was more than just the homemade decorations and the physical vibrancy of the room. Yes, the many streams of garland and tapestry were lovely. The lighting was soft, but colorful as it had been donned with twinkling Christmas lights and scented candles that were transfixed to never burn out. Stockings lined the mantle of the fireplace, which was situated right beside a beautiful Christmas tree.
Even from here, he admired Anakin’s work on the tree. He wondered if it was how his mother had done it every year. Judging by how methodical the whole process had been, he would assume so.
It all felt like home in a way his house never did.
The smiles, for one thing, never met their eyes at his parents’ famous shin-digs and there certainly weren’t quite as many children. The only other person his age was usually Asajj Ventress, who was far from his first choice in company. Buoyant holiday music didn’t play from an enchanted piano nor were the eating arrangements as casual as simply helping yourself. His house was usually filled with an eerie classical music that his mother worshipped and had nothing short of a five course meal consisting of exotic foods he’d never heard of.
He couldn’t cook to save his life, but knew many efficient spells at assisting the task. Qui-Gon had it partially covered, of course, because all of the appliances were working at full and seamless speed without an error along the way. Obi-Wan would hastily run stuff out, ensure that everyone was still having a grand time, and then disappear again to continue helping.
It was important for this Christmas to go well. Anakin had just lost his mother and was rightfully very maudlin as of late. Qui-Gon had taken him in and sought to give him a good home, which was wonderful. It was truly fantastic. Obi-Wan, himself, hadn’t seen much of his former mentor at all this term, let alone this evening, but it was more than understandable. He was included just enough to be invited early for his annual Christmas party to help setup.
It was a good idea for Qui-Gon to throw together the last minute-affair and wise all the same to be able to skirt around Headmaster Yoda’s rules in such a way. It didn’t seem most of the professors minded much or maybe they also terribly needed a distraction from current events, because many were in attendance. Of course, the stiffer ones, like Professor Windu, had opted to skip.
It was also a decent distraction from how horribly his Winter Holiday had been going, not that it was anything new. He wasn’t much for lying and knew the repercussions of getting caught, but he’d told his parents he was meeting with Ventress for the evening. They were absolutely ecstatic to hear that and sent him on his way with flowers and all. Technically, Ventress was at the party, so any scrutiny could simply be met with that.
He’d awkwardly given the flowers to Anakin instead, who’d rightfully responded with a weird look.
His parents had been especially cross with him lately when they discovered he was taking the advanced class of Defense Against the Dark Arts against their wishes. They’d nearly elected to lock him in his room for the remainder of break when it came out. Luckily, he was able to save some face by mentioning seeing Ventress at some point.
His family was also surprisingly concerned over Anakin’s home situation as of now. They expressed great distaste for his mother being so cavalier in her choice of guardian for him. Apparently, Obi-Wan’s mother had gone to school with Shmi and felt she was gullible to fall for a silver-tongued cad in the muggle world. They claimed she should have been more careful with the boy, since he was precious beyond measurable worth. It was interesting that Obi-Wan’s alignment with Anakin, which was initially viewed as a foolish errand, was now being heralded by his parents and grandparents.
He released a heavy sigh and picked up another plate.
As he exited the kitchen to bring out another serving of deviled eggs, he took in the sight of the party. Joy and laughter filled the air much to Obi-Wan’s relief. Even Anakin seemed as though he was having a good time. He’d found a good friend in Padmé Amidala and knew it was wise of Qui-Gon to see that she was invited.
The Fett’s were all rough-housing in the living room, displaying some wrestling moves they’d recently learned over break. It was their newest and most recent obsession. He did note that Rex kept glancing towards Anakin every now and then. While Anakin certainly had larger issues at hand, it was apparent that the boys, who no longer seemed to be outwardly fighting, were still not quite on the same level that they once were.
Anakin was practicing catching gumdrops in his mouth, which was likely an ill-advised attempt to impress Padmé in some way. She seemed partially invested and partially concerned he would choke, which was the right amount of attention for the boy.
Professor Plo Koon slow-danced with an inebriated Professor Shaak Ti, who was being photographed by Professor Yaddle, likely for a later laugh or a reminder of the events of the evening. Professor Depa Billaba was chatting with Caleb Dume, but he seemed to be distracted by the gentle snowfall from outside.
All was well.
In his search, he caught Satine’s passing stare. She was currently perched on the couch with a mug of warm butterbeer in her hands and was chatting with Bail Organa and Fenn Rau. Her hair was down in flowing waves that cascaded down to her shoulders. She was trying to grow out her bangs and had them clipped back with a little green barrette that matched the long sleeve dress she wore. Her eyes were warm with mirth and inviting for him to come over. Despite the bubble that seemed to grow in his chest, threatening to pop, his feet remained still. He simply nodded at her with what he hoped was a friendly smile and turned to go back to work.
He was just about to wonder where Qui-Gon had disappeared off to when a large hand was splayed firmly on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Qui-Gon’s deep voice asked.
He was startled, even if he had no real reason to be. It wasn’t as though he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar or anything.
“I’m setting out the food.”
“You’ve been doing that all night.” He said. “You’re working like a servant except nobody asked you to do so.”
“You know how important it is that this party goes well, Professor.” Obi-Wan said and nodded over to Anakin.
“As a matter of fact, I do, actually. I’d say he’s having a nice time too.” Qui-Gon said sagely. “Doesn’t explain why you would think spending your entire night in the kitchen is going to improve his spirits.”
Obi-Wan bit his tongue from remarking how this was the first real conversation they’d had in weeks and that somehow it was layered in criticism. Obi-Wan was used to appraisal and scathing speeches of failure and the tightening noose of expectation, but not from his former mentor.
“Like you said, he’s enjoying himself. That’s what matters.” He said shortly.
“I’d like you to enjoy yourself too every now and then, you know.” Qui-Gon leaned against the counter, but Obi-Wan still had to crane his head to look the larger man in the eyes. “So, what is it you’re actually avoiding?”
Obi-Wan straightened. “I’m not avoiding anything! I’m just-”
“-Distracting yourself from what’s bothering you. I know it when I see it, Obi-Wan. You’ve been one of my pupils for six years now and despite how you may try, even you have tells.” He smirked, “Every time you come out of the kitchen, you do a perimeter scan of the room. Some may take it as a neurotic need for everyone to be safe and accounted for, but I know better.”
“You don’t exactly become Head of Ravenclaw House without knowing better.” Obi-Wan said, though his mind briefly sifted back to the previous Head of Ravenclaw and debated that statement.
“Good, so hear me when I say that you need to live your life.”
He furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve watched you leap through hoop after hoop to please everyone, Obi-Wan and it simply cannot be done. You’re even doing it tonight! The sooner you make your peace with that, the happier you’ll be.”
Obi-Wan inspected the long-haired professor to see if he’d perhaps engaged in too much eggnog this evening.
“I know I can’t please everyone.” He said sharply but maintained his tone so as not to disturb the other guests. “I’ve learned that the hard way, thank you.”
Qui-Gon’s eyes softened. “I never meant to insinuate that it was easy. I know I’ve been busy with Anakin recently and it would be normal for you to feel neglected-”
“-I don’t.” Obi-Wan lied and perhaps the swiftness of his response made that more obvious. He wondered if it really counted as a lie if he didn’t want it to be true. He felt selfish and guilty for feeling the inklings of that. Anakin’s mother was missing! He had no reason to feel like he was the one going through the hard time right now simply because he wasn’t receiving as much attention as before. What bothered him more, was that he somehow made this transparent enough to be seen. He desperately hoped Anakin didn’t notice.
Qui-Gon nodded. “Look at Hondo.”
“I’d really rather not.”
“Humor me, please.” He sighed and Obi-Wan obeyed.
Hondo Ohnaka was planted firmly beneath the mistletoe as he had been all night. He called over to just about every living and breathing body at the party to come over and share “the Christmas cheer” with him. Even his bright and sparkly sweater implored people to “meet him at the naughty list”, which blended in with the many counts of jewelry that always draped around his neck and wrists. Some of it, Obi-Wan had to admit, looked quite expensive.
As far as Obi-Wan had seen, Hondo hadn’t had any takers. He could try to have more tact in his approach. Simply going for every single person at the party just didn’t feel in line with the spirit of the holiday. He kept glancing around, looking quite intently at him and Qui-Gon for a long moment before turning rather suddenly to face the other way.  
“Hey, baby! I’ve got something sweet for you to taste… And some cookies!” He laughed as he held up a plate of Christmas cookies to Stass Allie as she passed by without giving him any thought.
“I think he needs to call it quits.” Obi-Wan mused.
“Hondo is eccentric and uninhibited… He needs to brush up on his manners and probably shower a bit more… Also, I’m fairly certain he was the one who stole Headmaster Yoda’s quill set.”
“What’s your point?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Hondo lives his life shamelessly. He is who he is. When he sees something he wants, he does everything in his power to make it happen. His execution probably needs a little refinement, but the point is, he takes chances and he’s happier for it.”
“Yeah and he’s doing so well tonight.”
“Maybe not.” Qui-Gon said. “But you can’t win the games you refuse to play.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes seemed to naturally return to Satine, who was now quite heatedly making some point with Tarkin and was being backed by Fenn Rau on some injustice. He doubted she needed the help by how she was reaming into Tarkin. However, Rau seemed eager to assist, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin.
Even with the knowledge that Satine supposedly wasn’t interested, it still bugged him to some end.
He cleared his throat and turned back to his amused Professor. “That’s why I’m taking DADA this year again. I want to be an auror.”
“And you’ll make a mighty fine one. You came to that conclusion all on your own, eh?”
He hadn’t and they both knew it. There was no use denying it.
“I… Had some help.” Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon smiled and looked out at the party. “So, what are you going to do about that?”
“I’m going to be an auror.” He said with renewed strength.
He tapped the watch on Obi-Wan’s wrist, “I’m talking about tonight.”
He felt his cheeks go red and was irritated when Qui-Gon tilted back his head and laughed so loud that the entire room was drawn to their conversation Eventually, when it subsided, they all turned back to their respective conversations.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! We’re friends!” He hissed.
“She’s not going to wait around forever, my young apprentice. Even if she isn’t sure she’s waiting. Take it from an old fool who knows what it’s like to miss out.”
And with that, he left a very bashful and embarrassed Obi-Wan to his own thoughts again. Hondo tried to call Obi-Wan over, but it was easy to ignore as he was trying desperately to sink into the floor and away from everyone else. He couldn’t believe Qui-Gon thought his friendship with Satine was the equivalent of Hondo trying to kiss practically every person in the room.
They were friends. That was all. He didn’t understand why that had to make their relationship less meaningful.
So, occasionally he felt a little light-headed when she touched his arm or laughed at his jokes. Maybe his gaze lingered on her when she stretched or crinkled her brow in contemplation while they studied together. Sometimes, his hands grew sweaty if hers accidentally brushed against his while they walked. She always smelled wonderful, but he’d only noticed because they were always together!
And just because they were always sitting together or took the same classes and always worked together on projects, did not mean there was anything else going on.
Yes, he trusted her with his life and would surely give his for her in a heartbeat. He might have been slightly miffed whenever Fenn Rau or Tarkin or any of the other boys commented that she was beautiful. She was beautiful, but anyone with eyes could objectively make that conclusion.
And that she was charming and self-reliant. She was utterly brilliant with a wit that crushed his into dust. She was above all else caring to the extent of wishing no harm even to her enemies and wanted peace before anything. She was stubborn and defiant, but also incredibly altruistic and fair. Her humor was the exact same as his and was never afraid to go for the jugular.
Of course he cared for her and noticed how she ran her hands through her hair when she was nervous or how she bit her bottom lip when she was confused. It wasn’t like he fixated on such things… All the time.
He’d be a liar to say there wasn’t tension, but a great deal of that had to do with how often they disagreed! He was getting riled up just thinking of how different his conversation would have been with Qui-Gon if Satine had been there with her disapproval of his family’s ways.
Yet he missed her when she wasn’t around. Her honesty was so rooted in a deep sense of caring that he couldn’t entirely fault her for it. She would never steer him wrong and wanted what was best for him. He knew that in his bones even when they wanted to pounce on each other.
She knew him through and through and cared for him even if he came from a family that would despise her if they knew just how important she was to Obi-Wan.
And, if he was honest, he looked for her at every Quidditch match, every meeting, every get-together, because…
She was his best friend!
Just that.
***
Satine blew softly to ease the steam that permeated from the mug in her hands. She’d unexpectedly traded her butterbeer for hot chocolate when Fenn Rau slid the mug in her hands after she mentioned she wasn’t a big butterbeer fan. The little gingerbread man shaped marshmallows that floated on the surface were enchanted to dance until they melted away into frothy foam.
“You do have an eye for detail.” She commented as she watched one of them disappear into nothing. To Satine’s chagrin, when she looked back up to Fenn, he was standing much closer than he had before. He must have been participating in the ugly sweater contest, because the little cotton balls that were supposed to be snowballs on his blue and red sweater were atrocious.
It had become impossible to ignore the cold truth that was Fenn Rau’s sudden romantic interest in her. In the beginning, she thought he was just looking for a new friend or someone to show him around as a prefect, but then he started to appear everywhere and seemingly intent on impressing her in every way possible. She could have sworn he had recently gotten more competitive with Obi-Wan, which just felt plain silly at the core.
Especially since he basically tried to pawn Satine off to Rau- a reality that she tried not to groan at- the moment he had the opportunity to do so.
She didn’t love having Aayla and Stass’s incessant “I told you so” voices ringing in her ears on repeat, but pretending to be ignorant now was doing far more harm than good. For instance, she didn’t want Rau to be under the impression that she was leading him on. That was something Satine did not want to do.
“I notice everything,” Fenn said with a smile and took another step closer. Soon, if he kept moving as he was, that wouldn’t be possible anymore, and Satine really didn’t want to consider what possibilities lurked after that.
Clearly, not everything.
“Is that so?” She asked innocently, though she had a lurking suspicion that she wasn’t going to be too fond of where this conversation was going.
“Yes,” He nodded and shifted in his stance, clearly trying to keep his cool and appear taller than he was, “Like… How you always carry your books in the order of when you have class or how you aren’t fond of your food touching or how you never wear your hair the same way two days in a row.”
That last one sounded made up to Satine, if only because it was unintentional, but it seemed Fenn couldn’t be stopped even though she desperately wanted him to. In her opinion, this wasn’t the time for this sort of confession. Cody was glancing at her from the piano as though silently asking her if she needed help. Aayla and Stass, who were giggling amongst themselves by the staircase, clearly could also tell what was going on.
“Or how you absolutely despise morning rounds,” Fenn kept going, “Or… Or how there’s no one presently standing under the mistletoe and I couldn’t help but notice that you can’t seem to stop glancing in that direction.”
The last bit came out frantically, like he’d been so nervous that he forgot how to properly speak and breathe at the same time. Because of this, it took a beat for Satine to comprehend what he was insinuating, until it finally felt like a bubble popped between them.
Well, there was no more denying it after that jumbled suggestion.
“Oh! Um, with you?” She glanced back in the direction towards the mistletoe and it seemed Hondo had taken a bathroom break, because it was presently a vacant spot. Had Rau known her like he believed he did, he would have realized that she wasn’t deviating towards the mistletoe, but the array of dishes that lay beyond it and more importantly, who set out those dishes at a dizzying pace and seemed to refuse engaging with the masses.  
She’d taken too long to answer, because quickly, Fenn shook his head aggressively, “Not that you have to go under there with me… I mean, it would be nice, but you don’t have to. I haven’t been- It’s not like I’ve been thinking about it all night. It just came to me, as an idea, maybe. If you wanted- I’ve been told I’m a decent snogger. Not that I’ve snogged a lot of girls. Or boys! I’ve never actually snogged a boy, but if I had, I’m sure they would say I’m-”
“-No, no, I’m sure you are decent!” Satine waved her hands out in front of her as though trying to physically stop him from the painful stilted tangent he was trying to constantly start and stop, “But it wouldn’t be right as I would never want to give you the wrong impression.”
“And what would that be?”
Did all boys require such deliberate specifications? Or just the ones in her life?
She sighed, “You’re brilliant, you really are, and I’m sure there’s a girl out there for you, but unfortunately, I don’t believe she’s me.”
Smooth, clean, and to the point. For someone who had spent the better part of this term denying that Rau had these sorts of feelings for her, she sure was relieved to have cleared the air. It was what was best for the both of them.
He blinked, “Is it someone else?”
“I’m sure.” She said kindly, “Frankly, there are lots of girls who-”
“-No, I mean, do you fancy someone else?” He corrected.
“Well,” She had to tamper down the indignant side of her that wanted to explain that there didn’t need to be anyone else for her not to return his affections, but she was momentarily distracted by Obi-Wan walking from the kitchen with far too many plates balanced in his hands. They wobbled back and forth in tandem with how he moved before meeting an unseemly and cacophonous end as they shattered against the hardwood floor.
Fenn, like everyone else, turned towards the commotion, but looked back at her with a sort of sad understanding that she hadn’t noticed at first, seeing as she was a bit caught up in how quickly Obi-Wan had whipped out his wand and gathered all the missing pieces and reassembled the plates.
“I see,” He cleared his throat and she gave him a curious look after Obi-Wan disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry?” She frowned.
“It’s alright,” He said, “I won’t stand in the way.”
“What are you-”
“-I think it’s a little less insulting to not further deny it.” He said tartly, but not completely absent of compassion, “He’s a lucky bloke, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
Satine had to swallow the rising bitterness that was definitely her pride for being seen so thoroughly, “Truly an eye for detail.”
He quirked a small smile at that, “I don’t know if it takes an eagle eye to notice that.”
“Still,” She shrugged weakly, “I’m sorry.”
He raised a hand, “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Trust me when I say I hope it works out for you two. Though if you ever change your mind…”
“You’ll be someone’s first choice someday, Fenn.” She gave his hand a squeeze, “I’m sure of it.”
Despite it not working out how Fenn Rau thought, Satine couldn’t help but internally thank him for what transpired. She learned that maybe, she needed to take more risks.
***
One thing about being a wizard was that it wasn’t completely necessary to learn musical instruments, much to Anakin’s amusement. Some people still did, as Qui-Gon demonstrated for everyone, but others just merely enchanted the piano to play whatever they pleased.
His mum would quite enjoy that. She always loved classical Christmas music.
As another wave of sadness rose through his senses and nearly gave way of seeping out of every pore, he stamped it down in determination not to cry in front of everyone at the party. It was bad enough that it felt like every person that came up to him was trying to perform some sort of circus act to distract him, but he didn’t want to deal with the explanation.
It was a party and while he felt like the center of it, it was designed to be fun for everyone. It wouldn’t bring his mum back to him, but the thought had to count for something. Padmé had been sweet enough to check on him a good bit, especially when she could have been spending time with her friends or with Satine, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but with Fenn Rau.
Anakin might have been more excited about it a mere two weeks ago, but despite the beautiful colors, everything seemed to be painted in gray.
Even Hondo seemed to lack some of his luster when he returned from the loo, wearing a stern sort of melancholy that reminded Anakin of Watto when he suffered severe indigestion after an awful meal. Anakin had at least been expecting him to try and pawn off some more merchandise opportunities on him, but it seemed even he got the holiday blues every now and then.
“Not making enough sales this year?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask, because really, if anyone had the right to be upset this Christmas, it was him.
Hondo, as if realizing he was still at the party at all, shook his head, “Oh, er- never! Hondo knows how to push his product beyond anything. I assure you, you will see that 15% very soon and it will be chunky!”
Anakin narrowed his eyes, “My mum just went missing and you’re trying to slate me 5% of my profits?”
It wasn’t about the money, but it was worth mentioning.
Hondo’s big brown eyes widened beneath his goggles, which were beyond unnecessary in their current setting, even if it did snow an ample amount the night before. “Did I say 15%? I meant 20%! Silly me! I forgot to mention your holiday bonus.”
“It’s not like I’ll be able to spend that money on anyone.” He sighed and crossed his arms, “I was going to get my mum a new history book so she could catch up on everything she missed in the wizarding world. Word on the street is I’m actually in it.”
“I’m sure you are! What were they paying you?” Hondo asked and he was seeming a bit more like himself by the moment.
“Not everything is about galleons, you know.” Anakin said pointedly.
“That is what the rich people want you to think, Skywalker.” Hondo showcased the array of shiny necklaces that strung around his neck and jangled the bracelets on either wrist, “Do you know what makes these priceless?”
Anakin frowned, “They’re pretty ugly, which I suppose rich people tend to think gives it charm.”
“Exactly,” He smacked him on the back, “But I was going to say that they’re all stolen. Surely, you know that a pirate’s stolen treasure gives it a great deal more oomf. Nobody can resist that sort of quest. Stolen goods are absolutely the most valuable trinkets on the market.”
“That’s what my mother essentially is to her kidnapper.”
“Then you need to steal her back.” Hondo winked.
Anakin stood taller at that and looked over to Qui-Gon as Hondo did the same, seeming to have the same thought in his eyes (though Hondo might have been planning on lifting some of the expensive china that Obi-Wan had just dropped everywhere).
He was going to get her back. No matter what it took.
***
“You need to talk to him.” Cody said as he crossed his arms and looked at a rather shy and sullen Rex.
“I’m not sure how.” He said quietly, “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around all of this and I can’t figure out what would even be the proper thing to say.”
“Sometimes, it’s not saying anything at all.” Cody said.
“Was that supposed to be deep?” Fives complained, “You’re not exactly a philosopher, I’m sorry to say.”
“Yeah, don’t quit your day job.” Echo shook his head, “Just tell him you’re there for him, Rexy.”
“But I haven’t been.” Rex said.
“Yeah, and no one else is right now either.” Cody referred to Anakin’s “friends” who had been spending the whole term surrounding him like the leeches that they were. Now that the kid was dangerous to be around again, they weren’t nearly as keen on spending one-on-one time with him anymore. Ferus, Jax, and Tru all had their backs pointedly turned to the boy by the concessions table, literally boxing him out.
“I know.” Rex frowned, “I said some pretty awful things. And so did he.”
“And are you still mad at him?” Fives asked.
“No! I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he likely already does.” Rex said, “I just want him to feel better.”
“I understand.” Cody said with a firm nod, “Remember the winter that mum left? What we did to get all of our aggression and sadness out in a good, healthy way that also exhausted us into the best sleeps we ever had?”
“Don’t say Quidditch right now, Cody.” Echo groaned.
“Shut it, I’m talking about-”
“-SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Rex shouted.
***
As everyone else tugged on their coats and jumpers to protect themselves from the blistering cold and to better support themselves in the brawl that would surely ensue on Qui-Gon’s vast snow-covered lawn, Hondo lingered behind, nodding at a passing Ventress before looking towards the dining room, where Qui-Gon Jinn sat.
Alone in the shadows, this command shall ring,
An undeniable voice will repeatedly sing.
With this necklace you will slay,
The protector who lies in the way.
Unless completed, the task will burn,
Or removed for another person’s turn.
It should have frightened him that it felt like a swan song, but it danced through his ears with the allure of a temptress guiding him under the sheets, swimming in them, bathing in golden glory. His mind’s eye was eclipsed and he knew no other than the clarity that was brought before him without a moment’s notice.
A smile stretched across his face as he envisioned succeeding in destroying his prey, in pleasing his master. Doing so would rid these chains from around his neck, would give him freedom. He would be a hero of the new age and paid handsomely.
The witch’s voice whispered seductively in his ear.
“Now’s the time… Do it.”
He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more or before this moment, except snuffing the light out of the putrid Muggle Studies professor. It would not bring about freedom to his people, but it would be a start. He had waited so long, missed so many opportunities. Every time it felt he nearly had his hands around the large professor’s neck, the spell was gone.
But not tonight.
Tonight he would-
He blinked awake when Kit Fisto emerged through the back door with a large cake in his hands.
“I don’t suppose you could show me a thing or two about muggle weapons, Qui-Gon? I was always curious if there were some properties that could resist magic.” The charming DADA professor grinned.
Hondo rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t know what was going on with him lately. It was as though he was blacking out while standing on his own two feet. Afterwards, he felt as though he was locked inside a dark room without any light. Or worse, a piggy bank without any galleons.
Qui-Gon smiled at him from his place at the kitchen table. “Everything alright, Hondo?”
He stammered, “Uh, yes! My apologies, just tired is all.”
Or so he hoped.
***
Anakin thought that regular snowball fights were fun, but with magic, anything was possible. The Fett’s had constructed a catapult of sorts, clearly experienced in their endeavors of war, and developed an entire war-based strategy on snuffing out the enemy. Anakin was surprised when Cody had dragged him over to their base, seeing as he’d been such a jerk to Rex. However, he was glad for it, because Ferus and Jax made it incredibly clear by their sudden shunning of him that he was not to be a part of their squad.
He would be more peeved by their sudden change in tune if he already didn’t have larger worries at hand. He almost didn’t agree to playing in the snow right now, but Cody had been so insistent that he couldn’t deny, which was a point that Obi-Wan had made when even he took a break from playing maid and pulled on his winter coat and gloves. Anakin knew at that point that there was no going back.
The fluffy snow that pillowed across the rolling landscape of Qui-Gon’s homestead was something found in Christmas cards, topped off with the soft beacon of light that the rainbow strings of lights around his house offered. Snowflakes still trickled around them, albeit at a slower and more manageable pace, decorating their hair and hats with a sparkling white texture.
The cold air was rejuvenating as it was sobering and Anakin felt for the first time all week like it was possible to romanticize anything ever again.
Well, until a ball of snow hit him right in the face.
“Skywalker, you can’t just leave yourself exposed like that!” Cody hollered at him.
“Yeah, you’re wide open to the enemy!” Fives added.
Anakin shook his head, blond bangs now damp with ice, and crouched down beside the boys as they planned their onslaught. “Who threw it?”
“That coward, Olin.” Rex, who’d materialized beside him, pounded and shaped an ice ball in his hands and extended it out to Anakin. Anakin looked at him curiously. Why would Rex want to help him get even with the people that Anakin had quite literally ditched him for all term? Maybe he hadn’t meant to, but that was certainly how it played out.
“Rex, I’m-” He began, but Rex more insistently put the snowball in Anakin’s hand.
“-Don’t mention it, mate.” He said with a coy smile, “Let’s go kick some arse.”
Anakin swallowed the ball of emotion that once again rose in his throat- an easy thing to do when Cody shouted “CHARGE” and they all went sprinting forward. He and Rex remained back-to-back, through it all, never once abandoning the other.
He knew for sure now what made for a true friend.
***
Obi-Wan managed to force himself into the festivities, despite Qui-Gon’s words biting at him. They’d all engaged in a big snowball fight in the backyard, spearheaded by Cody and Anakin. It ended up being a competition divided by houses, but Satine still managed to get Obi-Wan in the face with a ball of ice.
She’d claimed it was an accident, but laughed when he retaliated in kind.
Hondo continued his excursions under the mistletoe with consistently negative results. It was for the best, in a way, because none of the couples felt the desire to show off and put themselves under the mistletoe if Hondo was there.
Eventually, like all good times, the party had to end and he found himself feeling a little lighter afterwards. His parents didn’t expect him back until morning, which meant he had at least the remainder of the evening to retain levity before it was back to studies and silence.
Anakin had tuckered himself out and fell asleep in front of the fireplace not too long after everyone began to depart. The Fett’s offered to stick around and help, but Qui-Gon dismissed them as Obi-Wan and Satine already had a good handle on most of it.
He picked the unconscious Anakin off the floor like he was a bag of grapes and smiled at Obi-Wan and Satine.
“Thank you two for sticking around and helping.” He said in a hushed tone.
“Of course. ‘Can’t let Ben get all the credit.” She smirked, but her eyes were bright and merry. Obi-Wan realized how close they’d been standing and carefully leaned back to grab another dirty dish to put in the sink.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to put this one to bed. He’s had a long day.”
More like a long year, but neither teenager commented on it.
After he ascended up the stairs, Satine sighed, “He sure knows how to throw a good time, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “He does.”
“I noticed you were gone for most of it.” She said carefully.
“Qui-Gon did too.” He muttered.
“Is everything alright?” She knew it wasn’t, of course, but he guessed she was asking to see if anything else had managed to go wrong in the past 24 hours. “You haven’t written all break.”
“My parents found out that I’m pursuing DADA this year. I think they’ve connected the dots about my hopes of becoming an auror.”
She frowned. “You hadn’t told them.”
He shook his head and turned away, busying himself with washing a plate. He knew the spell for that but preferred to have something to do with his hands. Besides, he already knew the look that was blooming on her face without seeing it. She likely already had her hands on her hips and steel in her eyes.
“Well, you had to know they’d find out eventually.” She said. “When the grades for the semester came back.”
“Yes, well, it went about as I’d expected. They’re quite cross with me.”
Where he expected a rant of “I told you so” or something else that he really didn’t need to hear, Satine once again, managed to surprise him. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Is that what you and Qui-Gon were talking about?”
“Kind of.” He was glad he wasn’t facing her so she couldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “He’s been a little busy as of late. Expectedly so. I mean, Anakin is young and requires guidance. Now that this chosen one stuff is going around, everyone’s apparently going to be gunning for the boy… Plus, I’m practically done at Hogwarts. Just over a year and-”
“-He’s not replacing you.” She cut in.
Silence. All Obi-Wan could hear was the ticking of the clock as it echoed through the old house. He stilled his movements and turned to find she was standing very close to him. So close that if he just leaned forward a tiny bit…
“Ben, you know that, right?” Satine was firm in her position and did not want to let the topic drop. Nothing new about that.
He let his shoulders drop. “I’m not trying to say that he is. I don’t own him. He’s not my father and he doesn’t owe me anything. I have no business being hurt over that when there’s a child that requires care and he’s absolutely the right person for it.”
“You know that from experience.” She said in a quiet voice.
“Yeah,” He nodded. “I do.”
“Well,” She moved the plate from Obi-Wan’s hands and set it on the counter. “You need care too sometimes.”
“Have you two been conspiring this evening?” He questioned. “Because that’s what he was saying.”
“No, but I’ve known you for the better part of six years and would like to think that I have at least become a little well-versed in your mannerisms. We care about you.”
He wondered if this meant she saw what Qui-Gon had apparently taken notice of when it came to how he acted around Satine… How she was the same as pursuing being an auror somehow.
“I know.” He smiled. “I care about you too… Both of you.”
Standing in the ambient low-lighting of the dining room, only illuminated by the last vestiges of Christmas lighting, he could still make out every detail of her lovely face. Her eyes had drifted above them in confusion and eventual bashfulness and he followed her gaze to see a small sprig of mistletoe precariously hanging where it hadn’t been before.
“I thought… I thought it was near the closet.” He said, but when he looked past Satine to where Hondo had been standing all evening, there was no longer any mistletoe.
It glittered with the remnants of enchantment and seemed to grow from the very ceiling. While he knew someone was definitely behind this, he didn’t have the presence of thought to think of anyone in particular.
Instead he looked quickly back to Satine, who was staring at him in a curious way. Her eyes were practically sparkling and seemed to rove over his entire face, settling ever so briefly on his mouth. He hadn’t missed it though, because he’d done the same thing.
“Hondo didn’t have much luck with that this evening.” She said gently.
“No,” He chuckled. “I don’t suppose he did. He’d certainly paid his dues. I wonder if he rigged it with a love potion of sorts.”
She smiled softly and he couldn’t bring himself to steer his eyes away from hers, like they were locked in a trance.
“I don’t think he did.” She said. He’d argue he was spellbound, if that didn’t sound so absurd, but he wasn’t sure which one of them moved first as it felt more like gravitational pull that they were both leaning into. His heart was in his throat and every thought that troubled him so deeply the entire evening washed away in a single second’s time. He’d closed his eyes, completely wrapped in warmth as their noses brushed together.
Just as he felt her soft breath hitch against his, a loud clang from up the stairs jolted them apart. As soon as the moment started, it had been shattered and both were the color of rubies.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called.
“Just… Uh, just brushing my teeth. Dental hygiene.” The small boy called and the patter of hasty footsteps followed before the bathroom door closed.
Oh, how he wanted to melt away right there.
Satine cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, well, I should get going.”
“I’ll walk you out.” He said, also unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he’d find.
“No, no that’s alright. I’m just using a portkey anyway.” She shrugged and then began to walk away. However, he thought she might have forgotten something, as she paused for a long moment at the door, one hand on the knob. Then, faster than he could comprehend, she quickly turned around, marched over to him, leaned up and pressed a firm kiss on his cheek, just barely catching the corner of his mouth too.
He caught her flushed gaze for a second as she’d lingered a moment longer than anticipated, which was fine because he also felt like his brain had melted to his shoes.
“Happy Christmas, Ben.” She said before steering herself back towards the door.
He gently raised his hand to where she’d kissed him. “Happy Christmas, Satine.”
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aces-to-apples · 4 years ago
Text
Written for Day 1: Hurt/Comfort of Codywan Week 2020 @codywanweek
Here on AO3
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: M/M Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alpha-17 & Obi-Wan Kenobi Notable Tags: Blood and Injury, Concussions, Mandalorian Culture, Blunting Teeth
“daze of our lives”
“You’re an idiot,” Cody said bluntly, manhandling Obi-Wan onto the ‘fresher sink like he weighed nothing more than a bunch of Alderaani emerald grapes. A feat made even more impressive by the fact that Obi-Wan was fully kitted out in a standard set of trooper armor and the commander wasn’t even wearing his own blacks.
“Yes, Cody, thank you for reminding me.”
The look he shot Obi-Wan was normally reserved for misbehaving children—or shinies, as the case may be.
Obi-Wan attempted a reassuring smile only for it to turn into a grimace as the movement pulled at his split lip, renewing its sluggish flow of blood once more. For reasons known only to himself, Alpha-17 had focused rather heavily on causing his face as much damage as possible, rather than seeking to neutralize him efficiently. Of course, Alpha-17 was a bit of a bastard with a vicious streak a parsec wide, so perhaps he’d simply nursed a grudge against Obi-Wan all this time.
Two years and change was a long time to hang onto said grudge, and seemed more than a little extreme, but he supposed anything could happen. Whatever the reason, it made pacifying his commander nearly impossible.
Scoffing, Cody wetted a rag and began furiously cleaning Obi-Wan’s face of… well, gore was perhaps an accurate description. His movements weren’t rough, by any means, but they were perfunctory and Obi-Wan didn’t need to be an empath to feel the low-grade burn of his anger in the tight quarters of the refresher. “Complete fripping moron,” he growled, as more and more damage was revealed beneath the blood.
“Cody,” Obi-Wan began, bracing himself as best he could. He knew that tone of voice well. “There’s no need—”
“How does a Jedi,” Cody cut him off, voice dangerously mild, “cock up so badly that he ends up in a punishment spar with the only Alpha who can nominally stand him?”
“Now that’s hardly fair to Alpha’s age-mates,” he protested weakly as Cody shoved his head and began examining his possibly-broken nose. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting any others from the Alpha class.”
“Seventeen warned them all away. Calls you a menace.”
Cody’s voice was serious—dark, even—but Obi-Wan snorted. “Of course he did,” he said, fond without worry and accepting the notion without doubt. “I do regret the number of grey hairs myself and Anakin have no doubt given him over the course of our acquaintance.”
“The stress doesn’t even have the decency to slow the bastard down,” Cody muttered darkly in reply. “Let alone kill him.”
There was a worrying shift in his ribs as Obi-Wan wheezed but he ignored it because, damn it, the idea of something so mundane as stress being the thing to kill Alpha-17 was unbearably funny at that precise moment. Cody shifted back on his feet and watched him impassively. It took a moment for him to realize that perhaps what he was feeling was what the troopers referred to as punch-drunk.
The corner of Cody’s mouth tugged up. “Yep,” he drawled, “that’s what happens when you let one of the Alpha class get their hands on you like that.”
“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, frowning. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Dear me. I believe I may have a concussion, Cody.”
The commander did not look impressed by his powers of deduction. “I told you that ten minutes ago, General.” He scowled and rinsed off the cloth in his hands before turning to Obi-Wan’s split and battered knuckles. “I peeled you off the mats and you said you were ‘happy to see my pretty, grumpy face’ and I said ‘you definitely have a concussion if you’re admitting I’m pretty in mixed company.’ And then you tripped over your own boots and tried to blame Anakin for it.”
“Mmm.”
“Still with me, sir?”
Obi-Wan hummed again, feeling more and more like he was floating as the adrenaline filtered out of his system and pain filtered in. “Always, my dearest commander. Always.”
He sighed but said nothing again for a while, tisking over the damage Obi-Wan had managed to do to himself without the aid of Alpha-17. “What even happened to your gloves and gauntlets?” he wondered aloud, and scoffed when Obi-Wan cheerfully admitted that he hadn’t a clue. “Still haven’t told me what you did to deserve a punishment spar from an Alpha. Don’t think I’m going to just let that one go.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Obi-Wan enunciated with care. “I simply don’t wish to tell you because then you’ll be disappointed with me.”
“And that’s a valid reason to piss off your marshal commander instead?”
“Oh, not at all! I’m just far better equipped to deal with you being angry with me than disappointed.” A punch-sober Obi-Wan would likely not have admitted that, but the Obi-Wan of the moment was perhaps not as wise as he. All he wanted was Cody’s continuing single-minded care and to all the Corellian hells with his dignity. “You have a remarkable talent for making me feel utterly worthless when I’ve disappointed you.”
The silence that followed that statement went on long enough that Obi-Wan had nearly forgotten it by the time Cody responded. “I don’t mean to make you feel like that,” he said with a gusty sigh. “That’s not what that look is supposed to mean.”
Of that Obi-Wan had always been certain, but disappointment had always been inextricably linked with feelings of personal failure and worthlessness, ever since he was a child. Coruscanti Jedi initiates were a cutthroat bunch to start with and his age-mates in particular had been even moreso than the average.
“It’s all right,” he said absently, when he realized Cody was waiting for a reply. “It pushes me to do more, do better, always has.”
“That’s not very reassuring, jetii,” Cody grumbled, swatting away the hand that attempted to clap him on the shoulder. “Quite the opposite.”
“Oh, I’m a jetii again?” Obi-Wan attempted to rouse himself from his post-beating lethargy. The return to the uncomplimentary epithet that Alpha-17 had passed on to his commander before their meeting boded ill. It’d taken months for Cody to finally wheedle out of him why he always chuckled at its use and several more for him to cautiously switch to the less aggressive Traat’ad. “You only use that when I’ve done something to deserve, well…”
“A punishment spar from Seventeen?” Cody supplied, deceptively innocent. “I can only assume you have, if you’re letting him turn your face into paste like this.”
“I—”
“When I’m disappointed in you, it’s because I know that you’ve made your decisions based on faulty logic and you’re not dumb enough to buy into faulty logic about anyone but yourself,” he continued, unconcerned with Obi-Wan’s attempt to defend himself. “When Alpha-Seventeen is disappointed in you, it’s because he knows you’re not stupid and thinks you’re acting like it anyway. So, what’d you do this time?”
Obi-Wan sighed and let his head fall back against the mirror. “Have you ever been through a ‘punishment spar,’ as you call them?” he asked, feeling very tired.
“Fortunately, I’ve managed to avoid pissing any of the Alpha class off quite that badly.”
He smiled, winced, and soldiered on, as it were. “It’s based on an old Mandalorian ritual: pelir edee. Went through it when I was on Mandalore as a padawan.” Cody hummed, well-aware of its history as well as his own. “Usually it’s because a clan member has lashed out at another, disproportionately so, or deliberately brought harm to the clan.”
“You take a swing at Seventeen?” the commander said, joking, but also curious. “Because if you did then I take back calling you an idiot and will be much nicer at your funeral.”
“It’s also—” Obi-Wan swallowed “—unofficially, you understand, used when a leader ignores the advice of their clan members and so brings harm to them through incompetence.”
Cody doesn’t respond for another long while.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.”
“Our intel was faulty—”
“—and if I had listened to your concerns then we wouldn’t be on this planet you all despise so much, collecting shinies to fill the empty spaces where loved ones once stood.” He had nothing to say to that, knowing full well that Obi-Wan had the right of it. “Alpha got his hands on the mission report that brought us here and asked me to explain what happened. I obliged. And he suggested a spar.”
“With Blitz, Colt, and Havoc.”
Obi-Wan inclined his head. “Naturally. He suggested, as well, that we all armor up for it. Apparently he doesn’t approve of my choice to return to wearing Jedi tunics.”
“None of us approve of that,” Cody muttered. He’d finished cleaning and bandaging Obi-Wan’s hands long ago, now just holding them in a gentle grip. “You don’t listen to us about that, either.”
Well and that was fair.
"Ni ceta, Kote," Obi-Wan said, not meeting his eyes. "I should have listened to your council and now your brothers are marching far away because of my…"
Pride, arrogance, conceit.
"… mistake," Cody finished, quiet, gentle. "It was a mistake. One that cost us, but you're not omniscient, and you did the best you could. That's all any of us can do."
"You knew better."
"Then learn from this time and listen to me the next."
Obi-Wan nodded and allowed himself to be tugged out of the 'fresher and stripped of the death-white armor. Each piece of plastoid was tugged out of magnetic alignment by sure hands and piled out of the way, until nothing remained but his blacks. Those hands then pushed and maneuvered until Obi-Wan was lying on his side in the commander's bed, Cody's chest pressed right up against his back.
The two of them rested like that for a long time, settling together until their hearts beat nearly in sync. Then Cody, his arms wrapped firmly around Obi-Wan's body, clasped their hands together.
"What did Seventeen want you to see, Obi-Wan?"
He linked their fingers together more securely before answering.
"As a Jedi, I have a responsibility to all life in the galaxy. As a general, I have a responsibility to the lives under my command." He took a deep breath. "As a partner, I have a responsibility to treat you with honor and respect. When I ignored your council, I failed in all of those responsibilities, and your brothers paid the price. Alpha-Seventeen wanted me to see those failures and understand that I need to trust you, and the rest of our comrades, in order to keep such a tragedy from occurring again."
"… Sounds quite kind for one of Seventeen's punishment spars."
Obi-Wan smiled as best he could. "Well, I'm sure he'd phrase it differently were someone to ask him. Regardless, I should have done better and will endeavor to do so next time."
"Good," Cody murmured into the back of his neck. "I love you, Obi-Wan."
"And I you, Cody."
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