#also that man in blue and top hat is very suspicious

[aliengirl]

what-

[flickrrposts]

Black Hat is going to be Hypnotized by Heroes - Theory

Why?: It'd be cool.

Okay, seriously, this could be nothing more than fanfic potential, but in case there's some small chance that I'm right about this, here are a few points on where I'm coming from.

#1 - Tension

This show has reaffirmed time and time again, in the show, comics, livestreams, interviews, that Black Hat is:

A, Powerful,

and B, Terrifying.

I don't think I need to go through evidence of that being the case, if you're familiar with the show at all, you know this.

He's been side-lined throughout the entire show, and it would not only be cathartic to finally have him show off his powers, but it would also make him feel like a real threat in the story if he's positioned against Flug, Dem, and 505.

The tension would be raised to infinity. The show would practically feel like a horror movie because of how near-impossible it would be to defeat him.

#2 - Goldheart's Plan

According to Miss Heed at the end of s1e6, Goldheart wants to "end all villainy."

Black Hat controls all villainy.

P.E.A.C.E. has already caught on to how deep Black Hat's rabbit hole goes, via the agents creating the Podemos Bailar website. (omg, with Magician being one of the agents, then Black Hat's hat is the "rabbit hole", it's like a pun, you get it? You get that-)

Before the third Arenque Noticias video, Melissa Lead states, "If you ask my objective opinion, I'd say a controlled villain is better than a villain set loose."

As observed by @paper-gold-theories, characters with gold accessories tend to be associated with Goldheart or the Golden Rule in some way (Miss Heed, Porccini, the reporter in s1e4).

Melissa wears a golden necklace and ring, so it's very likely that her opinions either align with the Golden Rule, or Goldheart himself.

So if Goldheart's objective is to brainwash all villainy, then who better to target than the man at the top? (the man in the top-hat, haha, I'm on a roll)

#3 - Black Hat's Weaknesses

Alan has hinted that Black Hat is not invincible, and has actually described him as "lazy".

So the concept of Black Hat slipping up is not an impossibility for the show to explore.

#4 - Details

This is getting into TJLC levels of analysis, but I've noticed a couple things that could somehow be foreshadowing this:

In this poster:

Villains have a red outline, and heroes have blue:

(The fact that Flug and 505 have blue is an analysis for a whole other day)

But Black Hat has a gold-ish color on both sides:

This could be a stretch, but,,

In 2021, promo art was released for the show:

And Black Hat's monocle looks suspiciously pink.

Sure this could just be red shading that accidentally looks pink, but it isn't that hard to edit if the colors came out wrong, I did it just now:

The difference is night and day:

I don't think Black Hat has ever been associated with pink before outside of Demencia's fantasies. It would have been easy to choose any other colors too, like green, yellow, orange, or even blue.

The Black Hat being lit with pink for the first time is a coincidence in the very same promo that ALSO includes Miss Heed.

And as is obvious, ALL of the people Heed hypnotizes have glowing-pink eyes:

Even if this isn't foreshadowing to my specific fan-theory, I find a Black Hat - Heed connection extremely suspicious.

It's very well that in this scene, Flug DID perfect Heed's formula.

The heroes have the perfect hypnotizing formula. Or at least they still have some version now.

They have the means.

So TL;DR, Flug perfected Heed's hypnotizing formula, and so P.E.A.C.E./The Golden Rule/Goldheart is going to use it to control Black Hat when his guard's down.

(or somethin like that, idk)

[joshth647]

I don't know if I'll EVER continue writing for this, but here's the prologue chapter (Chapter 0) of my STHW fanfiction! It's not the best, some clunky writing here and there, but I am ultimately happy with the result.

If you've got any questions, just hit me with an ask.

SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: WONDERWORLD

CHAPTER 0 - PROLOGUE

Wonderworld; a mysterious dimension born from the emotions of many people. Their memories of this place get wiped when they leave, hence them not being able to remember what they had done while inside.

Wonderworld is also the home of the ever famed Maestro Balan, whose antics and performances bring joy to his audience. He takes his job to heart, striving for happiness and balance in Wonderworld.

Meanwhile, we have... Sonic the Hedgehog. Known for being called "the fastest thing alive", he has travelled across many places, smashed Badniks, foiled an evil scientist's schemes tons of times, and made friends along the way. Even still, he never gets tired. Almost as if... it was his hobby.

...

One day, Sonic ran around the vast fields of Westside Island, the place where he first met Miles "Tails" Prower.

Admittedly, it's been years since he set foot on this continent; he forgot what Westside Island even looked like by now. The sun shined its rays around the mountains, animals frolicked happily, and loads of flower beds were placed about. It was quite the sight to behold.

All of a sudden, Sonic came to a stop as he encountered a door, of a never-seen-before kind. It was a large red door with a variety of swirly shapes and a golden doorknob. At the top, large white letters spelled out "BALAN WONDERWORLD".

Sonic: Well, this is strange. Last time I was here, there weren't any doors like this around the island. Seems rather suspicious... oh well. Time to check what's inside.

Sonic rushed into the door, and within moments he found himself inside a huge theatre, filled with all sorts of garnishments. Out of curiosity, he decided to take a look around the place, passing through halls of mirrors and paintings.

During his walk, he kept having sights of a shadow-y tall figure, with what seemed to be a top-hat and a wide, shining grin. Sonic didn't mind this at first, but as it continued on happening he grew more and more confused. Despite this, he kept going.

Eventually, Sonic came across a large room with a square table in the middle, some chairs and curtains dropping from the ceiling. This didn't seem like much, but what definitely caught the hedgehog's attention was the person sitting on one of the chairs.

It was the same tall, grinning figure he'd seen in the hallways, but now fully visible to his very eyes. He donned a white attire with a red tie, a dark vest somewhat resembling a corset, and low-heeled boots. His yellow eyes were embedded into his hat's hat band, and he had long teal dreadlocks which could sometimes look green. He carried a tear-shaped crystal in his hand, which reflected his smile.

???: Ah, so you have come... Sonic the Hedgehog.

Sonic did not believe the words he just heard. How did this thing know his name? Was it perhaps a coincidence? Or something else? Just thinking about it made him shiver.

The blue blur barely had enough time to react before the tall man suddenly turned in his direction and rose from his seat.

Balan: Why, it is an honor to meet you. My name is Balan, and I am the Maestro of Wonderworld. I've heard quite a lot about you.

Sonic: That's cool, I suppose... but where exactly am I? All I remember is I ran through a door and now I'm... here.

Balan went silent for a moment before letting out a delicate laugh.

Balan: Excellent question, may I say! You are currently in my theatre, which serves both as my abode and the gateway to Wonderworld. I could take you on a little tour around the theatre, if you so desire.

Sonic: Okay then, show me the way! Can't wait to see what this is all about.

Sonic: (Man, really wish Tails was here right now...)

--- TO BE CONTINUED ---

[aiyexayen]

The shiny link said to ask you things so here I am. What's ur fav outfits for each of WKX and ZZS?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING although this is a very difficult question, given how many thoughts and feelings i have about their outfits. i've never tried to boil it down to favourites, but i'm going to go on a small journey and see if i can do it.

(1/5)

zishu first. devastating intro.

this outfit makes me nostalgic for my first watchthrough. it's sexy, and i really like the way we see wenzhou both in red before anything else. but it lacks a kind of depth in the same way the unknown character does to us; it's a first impression. certainly a good one but just can't be my top favourite outfit.

his second tianchuang outfit is even better. it puts him in blue--his colour, siji shanzhuang's colour, even though it's draped in black and part of tianchuang right now. we get a lot of soul shattering emotions in this outfit as we start to learn who zhou zishu actually is, what he cares about, what he's built, who he's lost, what he is capable of doing. episode one kills me.

and then we also get a reprise of this outfit later, which is what really spikes its ranking up for me. the way he wears it subtly differently, coming full circle to finish this fight now that he's changed so much after the year he's lived. the way that blue he'd always carried with him, even into the heart of tianchuang, really stands out in stark contrast to jin-wang's red and gold.

beautiful. it's up there but doesn't quite get favourite.

and honourable mention of course are his other two we catch glimpses of in episode 1--brilliant shixiong blue accented in fUCKING green in his flashback as if he's remembering a time when he was still human, and his "i'm riding off to die now" cloak. these get NOTHING from me because i'm so sad.

moving on.

zhou zishu tries to become unobtrusive and unnoticeable and ordinary but instead he looks Like This:

and we all hate and despair and love that perfect hair shoulder blades jawline in equal measure. especially wen kexing.

comfy, rugged, unapologetically blue. this outfit introduces the flask, introduces him to wen kexing and zhang chengling, and we have some good times with it. but it's simple, and dark, and so is his view of his remaining life right now, and that hurts a bit too much.

so, next is the outfit wen kexing gives him and he's briefly suspicious but he does wear it, deciding to trust wen kexing a bit and caving in a little to the concept of being something more than he'd planned. we're expanding to two shades of blue, too, very nice.

this outfit sees us through the epic fight with the beggar gang, the heartrending siji shanzhuang flashback, the LIPS ON SHOULDER and that's not even the only reason this outfit is a top contender to the title.

because more layers means the chance to take them off. and it must be discussed how much work the under layers do in this outfit.

look at this man revealing that there is indeed more to himself, letting himself be less guarded around wen kexing. look at his smile, his playfulness, and that fucking fairytale princess that has been hiding under so many masks, perfectly offset by that pretty pale blue and that soft hairstyle.

but i'm not sure i can commit to favourite.

pin in that one, i will keep going. so, this first yueyang outfit is just So Much.

the HAT, the DRAPE, the ZHIJI-ACKNOWLEDGING, the way that gray creeps in. zhou zishu has revealed his face and in doing so has decided not to hide, in more ways than one, as he says to han ying. he's decided to deal with his shit a bit and maybe live a bit better with the time he has left. he's becoming himself and it's so much.

and as if that wasn't enough, after their big fight when it all goes wrong, zhou zishu GOES BACK to wearing THIS outfit. "let's try this again." backing up, making up, re-centering in the last place that felt more himself and then setting back out again on the right foot.

and then he sits in the miDDLE of the STREET, outer robe HALFWAY OFF HIS SHOULDER in stark contrast to the structure of the breakup-outfit, and SAYS LAO WEN'S NAME. what am i supposed to do with that. what. WHAT.

i think this one comes extremely close to being my favourite, pin in this one, too.

speaking of the breakup-outfit.

it's so shimmery, suddenly full of so much structure and colour. zhou zishu, trying to reconcile who he's been with who he wishes he could be with who he doesn't want to see lao wen become, abruptly wrapping himself up in all these layers and trappings of a man that's a different kind of shield against the pain and it doesn't really make him any less lost in the end. but damn is it pretty. i can't really put my finger on it but something about his hair and that collar. and, of course, the blood. the declaration that nobody can stop him from killing who he wants and getting what he wants. hot damn.

however, comparing it to the two top contenders for the title right now, i don't think it beats either one.

part 2

[bokettochild]

If you’re still taking requests maybe Legend showing off his outfits from Triforce Heroes (if you consider that one of his games) or just the fierce deity outfit if that’s to much

Good grief! This one really took it away! I liked the prompt so much, and had so many ideas for it, that I think this might have to be a multi-parter (wasn't expecting that).

I touched on three outfits in this one, but I have six more I might do as well. For reference, I included the Kolkiri Clothes, Linebeck's Uniform and the Cozy Parka.

I also realized while writing this that this is the first time I've written from Wind's perspective, which is positively criminal!

I am still taking requests by the way! If you want to see something, shoot it at me!

(Fic below the cut)

It started so normal, Wind never thought it would get so insane.

They were in the Old Man’s Hyrule, too far from the ranch to make it by nightfall but close enough to still be in a relatively safe location. Time had called for them to set up camp and as they were close to a stream, Twilight had called for the additional order of baths.

Watching Twilight drag his protégé into the water was almost worth having to have his head scrubbed by Sky.

Most of them had taken the chance to cool off and mess around once they were clean, and while Warriors attempted to duck Time under the water (a mistake, they soon realized, when the man easily overpowered the captain, who ended up getting dunked instead) and Wild sat in a tree watching their backs (hanging up to dry, Twilight had joked), Wind found that the rest of them were content to swim idly in the water, with only the occasional splash from one or another of them. Usually, there would be more noise, but Twilight was teaching Hyrule to doggie paddle, and they needed calmer waters so as to not scare the Traveler.

He cast his eyes over their group. A red-faced Warriors was coughing and spluttering out insults at a smug looking Time (boy he needed his picto-box), Twilight was gently coaxing Hyrule to the other bank in a manner highly resemblant of a parent urging a baby to walk, Wild was keeping watch, and Sky was relaxing in the shallows.

Where were Four and Legend?

A glance upwards and a signed conversation with Wild later and Wind was making his way upstream a way, around a bend that blocked off most of the noise but that Wild could still see over if needed, to where Four and Legend sat together one the bank.

Or rather, Legend sat, Four was floating in the shallows with a curious expression as he watched the vet- cleaning clothes?

“We’re out here having a good time and you’re doing the laundry? Boring much.” He drawled, drawing the attention of the two heroes.

“I don’t like swimming around others.” Legend scrunched up his nose in disgust, it wiggled, almost cutely. “And my things needed a wash.”

He snorted, turning his questioning gaze to Four.

The smithy shrugged. “It’s quieter over here, and Wars will try and dunk me if he gets the chance.” A heavy sigh escaped the shortest hero. “He really needs to be taken down a notch some days.”

“Some days?” Legend snorted.

Wind just rolled his eyes. So, what if Wars had a bit of an ego and spent a lot of time messing with them? It was just the way the captain expressed himself, Wind would do the same if he could get away with it and had a few inches on the others.

A flash of color in the spring caught his attention, bright pink against the soft blue of the water, and he surged forwards. “What’s that?”

Legend’s hand hit his face as the vet reached out to push him back, effectively pushing the excited child under water, and for a brief moment, Wind could swear he saw a pink skirt drifting just before his face before it disappeared and he was popping up out of the water again with a splash.

“You have pink clothes?” He grinned at the bundle of fabric in the Vet’s hands.

“I have clothes in all colors.” Legend sniffed, batting another piece of fabric at him in a shooing motion.

“Doubt.” Four and Wind deadpanned. “Nobody has that much clothing.”

Legend’s face was drawn, eyes dark with that haunted look that Time sometimes got when looking at the moon. “I do.”

Wind and Four exchanged a look. “Why would you even need so much clothing?”

“Adventure number six.” Legend sighed, returning to his washing.

Another shared glance was exchanged and the two boys swam closer to the older teen. “And you used all of it?” Legend nodded. “All by yourself?”

The vet paused. “I had some...friends, with me.”

“You have friends?” Wind sat up again, who knew the Vet actually got along with people other than Ravio and Zelda?

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, Wind, that’s kinda mean.” Four murmured.

“I don’t mean you don’t have friends,” He huffed bangs from his eyes to look at Legend better, it did nothing, they still drifted into his view and cut off his view of the top of Legend’s hat. “I mean, we’ve never seen them so I didn’t realize you were on good terms with more people than Ravio.”

Legend shrugged. “You probably won’t ever meet them, I... became acquainted with them outside of Hyrule and they’ve never been seen leaving the land where we traveled together.”

“What were their names?” Four asked lazily, eyes trailing after leaves that floated off downstream towards where the others were.

Legend’s snort caught them off guard. “You don’t want to know.”

Now that was interesting, Legend never shied away from giving names to the people he had met in his travels, what was so different about these people? He’d had nothing against telling them Ravio’s name. “Why not?” Curiosity was tickling at his just like his hair was, and it was the only thing keeping him from ducking under again to relieve the itching of slowly-drying hair.

Legend cocked a brow at the two of them. “Their names are worse than ours.”

Now Wind really wanted to know! “What were they?”

Four echoed his question, eyes glinting in the light as he stared over at the vet, who was now beginning to pack away his things again. It took some nagging (something Wind had plenty of experience with) to finally get Legend to answer, but when he did, he didn’t disappoint.

“Red, Blue and Green. A set of nut cases if you ask me.” Legend drawled, not looking at them as he stuffed something glittery and gold in his bag. Four froze, eyes flashing four colors, one after another for a moment before he turned his sharp gaze on the vet.

“Did they call you Vio by any chance?”

Wind stared. “Why would they do that? He already has a name, he wouldn’t need to match, besides, Legend doesn’t even wear purple.”

“His eyes are purple.” Four pointed out, and Wind turned to very pointedly try and see what color Legend’s eyes actually were.

They were purple.

“No, they didn’t call me Vio,” Legend rolled his eyes, pushing Wind out of his face again. “They call me Link, same as any sane person does.”

“We’re sane.” Wind protested.

“Debatable.” The two older heroes deadpanned.

Wind pouted, but let it go, gaze drifting for a moment as he let silence fall over them. Four was staring at Legend in a suspicious manner, eyes blue again, but he didn’t say anything, and the vet didn’t seem keen on saying anything either, instead getting up and walking over to the clothes he had draped across one of the trees. He wasn’t kidding, it looked like a rainbow over there.

“So, if those things belonged to your friends, why do you have them?”

“Only one with a bottomless bag.” Came the clipped reply. “That and I’m the only one who’s likely to need them again.”

“Your friends don’t need clothes?” Four balked.

“No! Of course, they do!” Legend made a face, swatting a hand at Four. “Wild’s the only one who goes around naked, I’ll have you know, and if any of them had done the same they would have been shunned by the whole kingdom.” The vet huffed, voice dropping to a mutter. “What with the fashion laws and all.”

“So, if they already have clothes of their own, what did you need all for this for?” He gestured towards the various garments that Legend was still packing away.

“They’re all enchanted, or otherwise intended for special purposes.” The vet winced. “Hopefully I’ll never need most of them again, but there’s always the chance.”

“Will we ever get to see them?” He watched as Legend stuffed another garment into one of his bags many pockets.

“Hopefully never.” Legend spat.

But when did things ever go Legend’s way?

It was a hat first.

A battle in the forest ended with black blood spattered everywhere, but with Legend and Wild having provided support from the sidelines in the form of arrows flying across the battlefield, injuries were more scarce than normal.

Of course, that could be attributed to the fact that there had only been a few of the black-blooded monsters in the camp they had just destroyed.

As most of them had gathered their weapons and wiped away the blood, Wild had come leaping down from the treetops with Legend following after at a more sedate pace. Wind wondered if that was because of the Vet’s arthritis is because of the huge hat on his head.

“Nice accessories, do some shopping while we were down here fighting?” Wars snarked, huffing a laugh at the vet as Legend’s feet touched the earth again.

Indigo blue snapped at the captain as Legend adjusted the pointed cap. “No time for that when I have you all to keep an eye on.”

Twilight sniggered. “What’s with the hat, Ledge?”

“Yeah!” Wind bounded up to the older hero, eyes wide as he looked at the strange accessory. “Where did you get that?”

“Is that one of the things you got on your last adventure?” Four mused, sparking further excitement in the sailor, if it was, than maybe Legend would actually be willing to tell them more about it!

“Yeah, is it?”

No one addressed the confused stares of the taller heroes as their three shortest members conversed.

“Yeah,” Legend lifted the hat off and brushed at its brim in a clearly fond display; if he even attempted to say anything about hating his adventure again Wind was not going to believe him, not after that smile. “A Kolkiri hat, made to aid archers and help them shoot more arrows. I don’t usually use it, but it helps when you need to take out more than one enemy at once.”

“You could just learn to shoot better.” Wild chuckled, plucking at the hats brim only to have the garment whisked out of reach by a glaring veteran.

“I can shoot well; this just helps me see better because it blocks the freaking sun.”

“Kolkiri you say?” Time mused, stepping forwards to peer at the pointed green cap.

“Sure, you didn’t just steal it off of a witch?” Wars teased.

“No witch could replicate this sort of quality,” And if there wasn’t pride in his voice than Wind would eat his boots. “Not even the finest tailors in all of Hytopia could imitate it, and they’ve tried.” Legend spun the hat in his hands before popping it back on top of his head. “Don’t know the tailor, but what I wouldn’t give to learn their tricks. Kolkiri know what they’re doing, and they do it better than most Hylian craftsmen.”

Time was smirking, and Wind really wanted to know why. “You should see the tunics they can make.”

Legend returned the smirk. “Oh, I have, I own one.”

“As do I,” Their resident old man chuckles. “Although I doubt I could fit in it any longer.”

Wind giggles, trying to imagine Time in the clothes he’s seen on the spirits of the kolkiri, it’s hard, what with how big their leader is.

“Hat might fit you though.” And as the words ring through the air, Legend is already reaching up to pull the brim of his pointed hat over Time’s face. Their leader chuckles, brushing Legend off and adjusting the hat to sit more securely on his head.

Somehow, Time looks more comfortable in the hat than he does in his armor, and even though the two clash terribly, he doesn’t seem to mind, a light smile gracing his features as they set off again.

It’s a few days before Legend brings out another item from his collection of clothes, and when he does, it’s only after the others have drifted off to sleep. Wind would have been sleeping too, but you can only stay awake so long when your mind replays the horrors of the past, and Wind can only watch in silence for so long as giant ocean-monsters attempt to destroy those he loves the most. Tetra’s scream echoes in his own cracking voice as he startles awake.

The stars shine brightly overhead, brighter still as they blur from his tears. Despite what the others might say, or the confident way he tries to convey himself, Bellum frightens him, even now, and everything he had to deal with on that adventure... it weighs heavy on his mind.

A strangles sob escapes him as he sits up to bury his head in his knees, arms wrapped tight around his legs as he tries to shake of the after-effects of the dream.

That’s all it was, after all, just a dream.

Just like the Ocean King, like Lineback, like everything else in that world had been.

It’s just a dream.

“Hey,” Legend’s voice is soft and almost lost in his sobs and the crackling of the fire, but Wind is used to listening for even the softest of sounds in the night; be it due to Aryl having a night-terror –her own dreams aren’t free from their adventure- or someone sneaking around to make trouble. “Sailor, you all good?”

It’s clear he’s not, and he knows that, so Legend really has no business asking, but at the very least he isn’t being told to stop being a baby. “’m okay.” His own voice betrays him and Wind wants to sigh in irritation. Usually, he’d pout and groan at the way his voice cracks, but right now he doesn’t have the emotional or mental strength to do anything about it.

There’s shifting from across the camp, and even though his head is still pressed against his raised knees, he sees a flicker of golden pink in the firelight as Legend crouches down before him.

Thank Hylia the vet doesn’t sit back on his ankles, Wind doesn’t want to know if he’s not wearing shorts under that skirt of his.

“None of that now, what’s eating you?” It’s a weird term, especially coming from Legend, who’s usually so clipped and professional in his speech, and Wind can’t help but huff out a short laugh.

“Nothing,” His hand dashes across his eyes, wiping the tears away, only to have more of them prick at the corners. “Go back to watch, I’m fine.”

“And Twilight is a dog person.” Legend drawls. “Look, if you have an emotional moment or whatever, you’ll be tired as shit when we have to leave in the morning. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel keen on dealing with another Sky.” It’s rough and gruff, but in a way that reminds him of Lineback rather than make him upset.

“I’m fine, just...” He dwells on his next words for a moment. He’s not scared, not really. It’s just the aftershock of a too-real dream about another too-real dream. He’s not really sad either, even if the island is gone now, he’s just... “I’m drained.” He whispers, scrubbing his eyes. “I miss everything back at home but,” He pauses, wondering briefly if Legend could even understand what he’s trying to express. “I guess I miss the things that aren’t there too.”

“Like what?” He doesn’t look up, but he knows the exact expression on Legend’s face; brow raised and mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown.

“Places... people. It’s all just dreams but..” He fiddles with the end of his blanket. “I miss the warmth of them I guess, miss the sea and the islands, even the fake ones, they were so... comforting.” He chuckles, surprising himself with the bitterness that tinges his own voice. “Even if I did spend so much of that time trying not to get killed.”

“Warmth, huh?” Legend hums. There’s a brief pause, one Wind almost takes for Legend rolling his eyes and deciding to leave him to his thoughts, but then there’s a brief rustling and something warm and thick settles over his shoulders as Legend sits at his side. “It’s no pirate uniform, but it still smells like the sea, if that helps at all.”

Wind wants to tease Legend for the sentimentality and love in the action, but when he turns to look at the Vet, his gaze falls instead on the royal blue coat that has been draped around his shoulders.

Too-long sleeves fall to fold at his waist while the rest of the long coat trails and puddles around him, rich, warm fabric blocking out the night chill. It’s a lovely coat, but it’s painfully familiar, and Wind finds himself running his fingers over the stitching and inspecting every detail with a precision that he only ever shows to his swordsmanship and sailing.

His eyes don’t fool him either, the coat is an exact copy of Lineback’s own.

“Where... where did you get this?”

“Like it?” The vet chuckles softly. “Hytopian tailors. It’s a sea-coat, made to aid traveling sailor’s in searching for treasure. Don't ask me how it works though,” A ringed hand waves lazily overhead. “I could never make sense of it all. What matters is that it’s warm, not even the ocean can chill you in that thing, and trust me,” Buck teeth and small canines shouldn’t look so chilling, but Legend’s smile is just that. “It’s tried.”

Wind decides not to push it. There’s no way Legend could know about Lineback, not with the gaps of time and timelines between them. So, instead, he nestles down into the coat, one which bears the promised scent of the sea, with just a hint of smoke and rum to it, and lets his mind drift off again while Legend hums something under his breath.

The vet doesn’t realize he’s humming any less than he realizes Wind is slumping into him, but by the time he does recognize it, Wind is out cold, his head pressed against Legend’s shoulder, the coat still draped over him as he snores softly. Legend doesn’t push down the warmth in his chest as he smiles down at the golden curls, no one will see him anyway. Gnarled fingers decked out with countless rings card through sun-bleached curls as a lilting melody pierces the silence around them, no one will hear it anyway.

In the days to come, Legend allows Wind to don the heavy sea-coat from that night. Warriors makes a comment about poor coordination between fabrics, and while Legend doesn’t seem to disagree, both of the older heroes seem of the opinion that it's for the best he holds onto it, what with the cold and all.

The last switch landed them in the mountains, and while the Hyrule they are in has not yet been confirmed, everyone knows one thing for sure: it’s cold. Wind buries his face in the raised collar of the heavy sea-coat, which, despite being in Legend’s bag for so long and the vet refusing to smoke or sail, much less swig rum, the coat smells of all three, and Wind buries a smile at the thought that maybe Legend didn’t get it new like he’d let on.

It does a good job of keeping him warm though.

He wishes he could say the same for Four.

The poor smithy refuses to be carried, but as snow whips around them as they trek through the knee-high snow, the diminutive smith is left chattering and shivering in their wake.

It really shouldn’t be a surprise that Legend has something to help with that.

Yes, the vet still isn’t wearing pants, but he doesn’t seem too poorly off, no matter how badly the others shiver. He and Wild only share a look and scoff when Warriors asks through chattering teeth how the two of them aren’t freezing.

“You should see the mountains in my Hyrule.” Wild chuckles brightly.

“Done this before, cold is cold, you get used to it.” Legend grins, swinging his fire-rod.

“N-not all of us c-can s-st-stand the c-c-cold.” Four chatters grumpily, sounding startlingly close to the minish he’s shown Wind in the past. “Jer-jerks.”

The concern on the faces of the taller heroes is obvious, but with Twilight’s teeth chattering nearly madly (the rancher's nose is somehow frozen) and Time wrapped as tight as possible in one of Wild’s extra cloaks, it’s clear most of the others don’t have warm things to spare.

They were separated in landing in this world, and even when they had all been pulling themselves together again it had become clear that there was nothing of Wild’s that could even fit the smithy, and not even the blue scarf that trails over his shoulders seems to be doing much good against the freezing winds.

“Hang on a sec.” legend huffs, already turning to rustle through his bag. The coat he pulls out is ridiculously plushy, and in a soft shade of violet that makes Four chuckle past his chattering teeth. The chattering doesn’t last for much longer though, not when shoves the garment over Four’s head like Wind has done to his sister so many times with the sweaters Granny has knit them. The smithy’s blond hair is mused beyond recognition, chunky and flying every which way as he pushes his face out of the plush, but the healthy flush to his cheeks assures the rest of them that he won’t be freezing any time soon.

“I- Oh...” Whatever Four was about to say cuts off as he looks down at himself. The coat is long, but not too long. Where Wild’s shirts would drown the smithy, a coat made for Legend only brushes against the smithy’s ankles.

Legend smirks. “It prevents slipping too.”

“Why aren’t you wearing it then?” Hyrule questions, the Traveler’s cheeks are rosy in the cold, but borrowed clothes from Wild, while also too big, seem to be keeping him warmer.

Legend winces. “It’s a pain to get off.”

“And inconvenience is enough reason to freeze?”

“Do I look cold to you, captain?” Legend snarks, turning an expectant look on Warriors. “Because I certainly don’t feel it.”

“Stop rubbing it in.” The captain huffs, unfortunately too big to borrow from the others, and now highly irritable from the cold. His scarf is still on Four, and if what Legend says is right about the coat, Wars won’t be getting it back for a while, leaving the poor captain to shiver as he clings to another fire-rod.

Four seems comfy enough anyway.

[storiesforallfandoms]

for the revolution ~ enjolras;les mis

word count: 2101

request?: no

description: she wants to fight for her country, but he won’t let her, so she decides to disguise herself

pairing: enjolras x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, death, mentions of steamy stuff at the beginning

masterlist

i watched les mis for the first time last night, so if this has an inaccuracies please forgive me as i’m currently writing after one viewing (also i’m gonna be changing how it all ends just for a more fluffy ending instead of a sad one)

His body was pressed against hers, both of their bodies still stuck together with sweat. Enjolras’ lips gently grazed her neck, causing her to giggle every time he touched her sweet spot.

It took a lot of will power, but finally Enjolras separated himself from her. He began to stand, only for (Y/N) to take hold of his hand and pull him back into the bed.

“Must you go already?” she asked with a pout.

“I have to meet with the boys,” he told her, although he moved his arms around her to hold her close.

“You’re starting a revolution tomorrow, you can spend one night with your girlfriend. Especially since you are leaving me tomorrow.”

Enjolras sighed and kissed the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Not this again, my love. You know I am leaving you for your own safety.”

(Y/N) propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at her boyfriend. “I do not understand why you won’t let me join you lot. Gavroche is fighting with you, and he is a child!”

“You know it has nothing to do with your gender, as you keep insisting it is. It is because I cannot stand the thought of you being hurt. This is my fight, our fight, this isn’t a fight for you.”

(Y/N) cupped Enjolras’ face. “It is our fight, Enjolras.”

He sighed and pulled away from her. He turned his back to her as to make it easier to dress himself to leave. He knew that if he looked at (Y/N)’s face he would cave and stay with her. He promised his men he would meet them tonight, he had to meet them tonight. They started their revolt in the morning.

(Y/N) watched sadly as Enjolras reluctantly pulled his clothes on. She understood that he was just worried for her safety, but (Y/N) was also worried for his. She knew how dangerous this was going to be, she knew that the policemen would not stand down against the Friends of the ABC, and neither would Enjolras and his friends.

She just wanted to protect him, and to fight for her country at his side. She wanted to be a part of history.

Enjolras turned to look at (Y/N) one more time. She looked up at him with those beautiful eyes that he loved more than anything. He approached the bed and leaned over to gently kiss her forehead.

“I will come back to you, my love,” he promised.

“I will be waiting,” she responded.

Enjolras smiled. He had to pull himself away from her before convincing himself to stay.

Once the door closed behind him, (Y/N) softly counted to 60, making sure he was gone and that he wasn’t coming back, before she quickly jumped up from the bed. She made quick work of collecting some of the clothes Enjolras had left at her place and pulling them on. They were very obviously big, but nothing too suspicious. And they covered any...identifying features on her body.

She picked up one of Enjolras’ hats and stuffed her hair underneath it. There was no way to change her face, the face that Enjolras knew so well. She just had to hope that he wouldn’t see her, or that none of his friends would recognize her face.

Her heart was racing as she made her way to the pub that she knew the Friends of the ABCs always met at. When she arrived, they were already setting up the barricades. She was quick to join, trying to blend in the best she could.

“Oi! Who are you?” asked one of the men. (Y/N) recognized him as Joly, one of Enjolras’ friends. He was looking at her long and hard, waiting for her response. She privately prayed that he wouldn’t recognize her.

“I-I - ” she stuttered, trying to come up with an answer.

“She’s with us Joly.”

Another familiar face came to (Y/N)’s aid, but this one, much like her, was dressed in a disguise.

“You don’t have to be so suspicious over everyone, Joly, she is just a young buck like us,” Eponine said, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Come, arm yourself.”

She led (Y/N) away from a still suspicious looking Joly.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) whispered to her brave friend as she picked a gun and shoved it into the waistband of Enjolras’ pants.

“The same as you apparently,” Eponine responded. “I want to be part of the revolution, and I’m trying to look out for Marius.”

(Y/N) followed Eponine’s longing gaze towards the man she had been hopelessly in love with for years; Enjolras’ best friend Marius. Her heart ached for Eponine, especialyl with the latest news that Marius had fallen in love with a strange, blonde girl.

“I just want to be a part of the revolution,” (Y/N) told her friend. “Enjolras refuses to let me take part, but I want to fight for this country. You cannot tell him I’m here, please.”

“Of course, they don’t even know that I am here,” Eponine promised. “Just...stay safe, please.”

(Y/N)’s eyes trailed back to Marius, who was now talking to Enjolras. She looked at the man she loved, imagining the devastating heartbreak he would feel if he lost her on that day.

“I will,” she told Eponine. “I promise.”

~~~~~~

The watch was boring at first. Little excitement happened, besides the reveal of an undercover police officer trying to infiltrate the barricades.

(Y/N) was sat behind the barricade, huddled next to another of the men, when a shot rang out. She quickly looked over and felt her heart break when she saw little Gavroche holding a bullet wound with one blood soaked hand.

“No!” she exclaimed before she could stop herself. “He’s a child, leave him alone!”

Another shot rang out, hitting Gavroche again. He stumbled this time, his skin turning deathly pale. A final shot deafened (Y/N)’s ears, but she couldn’t tell from what side the shot had come as one of the police officers fell at the same time that Gavroche did.

She began to climb over the barricade, desperate to get to the lifeless little boy. Someone grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back. “Are you insane?!”

“We can’t leave him out there!” she cried, forgetting to disguise her very feminine voice. “We have to bring him back, we can’t leave him!”

Whoever grabbed her pulled on her arm hard, causing her to spin to face him. (Y/N) came face to face with the blue eyes and curly blonde hair she loved more than anything.

“(Y/N),” Enjolras breathed.

(Y/N) pulled her arm free from her boyfriend’s grasp before he could say anything else. She pulled her gun from her waistband and began to fire on the closing officers.

A sense of pride swelled in her as she watched officers fall from her gunfire. The other men followed suit, climbing from their hidden spots and opening fire. They were outnumbered, but they weren’t going down without a fight.

(Y/N) saw the officers coming closer to Gavroche’s body. She looked over her shoulder at Enjolras, who was busy trying to battle himself. She took a deep breath and leaped over the barricade, quickly sliding down to cradle Gavroche’s small body in her arms.

He felt weightless as she lifted him. His whole life ahead of him, taken by those damned officers. (Y/N) had started back up the barricade when she felt a stabbing pain run through her shoulder. She screamed in pain but refused to back down. She was near the top when another searing pain shot through her stomach, causing her to exclaim in pain again.

One of their men took Gavroche from her as another pulled (Y/N) the rest of the way. At some point, she had lost the hat concealing her hair, but she didn’t care anymore. She laid back against the barricade, one hand covering the wound on her stomach. She winced as she put some pressure on it in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Out of the way!”

Through her blurring vision (Y/N) could see Enjolras as he knelt in front of her. He looked over her injuries, trying to put pressure on the wound on her shoulder but stopping every time she winced.

“Why did you do this?” he asked her as he pulled her into his arms, cradling her the same way she had cradled Gavroche. “Why did you come like this? Why did you come at all? I told you - ���

“Foolish of you to think I’d listen,” she responded, her voice weak.

Enjolras smiled through the tears forming in his eyes. “You have me there.”

(Y/N) smiled as well before beginning to cough, the taste of something metallic coming up in her mouth. Enjolras held her tightly and kissed her forehead. “Stay awake for me, okay love? We’ll get you help, but you have to stay awake.”

The edges of her view were starting to fill with black spots. “It’s getting hard to see, Enjolras.”

“I know, love, but you have to fight it, okay?” Over the continued gunfire, he shouted, “I need help! Someone, get her some help, please!”

The sounds around her became more and more muffled as the black began to swallow her whole.

And suddenly, she felt nothing.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) woke up some time later. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out. She wasn’t even sure she was alive. She was sure those wounds had killed her, that she was waking up in heaven.

The hot pain coursing through her shoulder and stomach, however, alerted her that this was far from the truth.

She opened her eyes and immediately cringed as the sunlight beamed in through the windows. She closed her eyes as her head pounded from the sudden bright light. Through her closed lids, she could see the light disappear. When she opened them again, she could clearly see the face of Enjolras leaning over her.

“You’re awake,” he said, softly. “I was so scared that you...”

He trailed off as he took her hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“How long have I been out?” she asked him. Her throat felt raw, from lack of use she assumed.

“A few days,” Enjolras replied.

Her eyes widened. “What? Days? Enjolras, what have I missed? Where is everyone? Have we won?”

“Calm down,” he told her. (Y/N) realized then how painful her wounds felt when she got worked up. “We won.”

Relief washed over her and she couldn’t help but laugh to herself. Enjolras smiled at her response, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

A realization hit her in that moment. “Gavroche.”

Enjolras’ face darkened as he looked down at their intertwined hands. “We...we lost a few good people. Eponine was among them.”

(Y/N)’s heart broke. She felt tears welling in her eyes. “And Marius?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, Marius made it out. Eponine took a bullet that was meant for him. She...she died in his arms.”

Although the fact that her friend was dead hurt her greatly, (Y/N) was glad to know that Eponine had died in the arms of someone she loved, someone who loved her even if it wasn’t in the same way that she wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Enjolras,” she said, her voice just barley a whisper. “I’m sorry for going against what you asked me to do, and for worrying you like I did. I just...I wanted to - ”

“I know,” he cut her off. “You wanted to fight like the rest of us. I understand. I cannot be mad at you for that. I’m just...I’m so glad you’re alive. I’m glad that I haven’t lost you.”

(Y/N) squeezed his hand. “You’ll never lose me, love. I promise.”

Enjolras smiled and climbed onto the bed next to (Y/N). He took her in his arms and held her close, the way he had that fateful day before the revolution started. He held her tightly to him, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing her again.

(Y/N) settled into Enjolras’ chest, taking in the familiar scent and warmth that came with him. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, love.”

Enjolras smiled to himself and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Rest, love. When you’re feeling better, I’ll take you out into our new world.”

[cutesilyo]

no place in the world (like manila) — an amephil fanfic

A few months after the outbreak of the Philippine-American War, Alfred falls in love with and is betrayed by a bright-eyed teenager with the prettiest smile on this side of the Orient in a single night. 

This is not a love story.

Also available on AO3.

—

"Sir, I don't think it's safe for you to leave the camp," Major-General MacArthur warned. "I don't know how, but the revolutionaries know your face. They could attack you!"

"Pshaw," Alfred snorted. "I'm a nation. What could they do that could take me down, huh?"

MacArthur's mustache bristled in displeasure. "Be that as it may sir, might I remind you that you only arrived in Manila a week ago? Knowing you, you'd just get lost and I'd have to put together a whole squad of troops just to hunt you down. You could get captured, Alfred. I don't know how to tell you just how badly that would bring down morale."

Alfred just wagged his fingers, a bright grin on his face. "Look, if I get captured, I'd bust out of whatever crappy holding place they'd put me in without barely breaking a sweat! And knowing our soldiers, that's just the stuff that would make a great story to tell at dinnertime. How's that for morale?"

The way that MacArthur simply stared at him blankly told Alfred that this was not a convincing argument.

"I hate it when you do that," he groaned, slumping back on his seat. The leather was hot with the heat of the tropical sun and it stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Oh, how badly he wanted to just finally get up and leave. "I'm just saying, I can't stay inside here forever just waiting for you to dictate our next move."

"It's part of our strategy—"

"And it's boring. I'm bored, Major-General. I might as well look around." Alfred's eyes glinted dangerously. "Besides, you'll capture the whole nation for me soon enough, won't you? No harm in wanting to see what we're winning once this war is over."

The silence lasted for a few seconds before the major-general sighed in defeat.

—

Private Patton R. Wilkes was assigned to “accompany” Alfred while he roamed around Manila, but he knew that MacArthur just wanted someone to make sure he would actually return to camp instead of getting lost or, God forbid, taking the next ship back to America. Though the both of them were dressed in civilian clothing, the private carried himself with a strict stiffness that just screamed hardened military man. If Alfred wanted any chance of escape, it looked like the private would be hard to shake off.

Alfred tried to stay optimistic about the trip anyway. He hadn't paid much attention to the city while he was on the way to the American camp, but he certainly expected it to have an air of exoticness. He was a bit disappointed not to see anything like the palaces of Japan or the distinctly oriental architecture of China. Instead, he found street signs written in Spanish, the excited chatter of fast-talking brown-skinned people, and the cacophony of guitars, church bells, and the sound of horse-drawn carriages trotting along the stoned roads. Walking around Manila was like looking at a funhouse mirror version of Mexico: more or less the same, but with just enough differences to make his head spin.

"Uh, you alright there, sir?" Patton asked.

"Was just thinking about a bad memory, is all," Alfred grimaced. He's sure that Alejandro would have his head once he returned to the continent. He's been pissing off a lot of Spanish-speaking nations recently, that's for sure. "Come to think of it, the Philippine Islands must have its own personification too, right?"

The private's face darkened. "He's a force to reckon with, sire. Haven't seen no hide nor hair of him myself, but some guys in the other squadron barely survived after fighting with the kid."

"A kid?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know there were still nations out there who were that young. Then again, he was only a teenager himself, and he was even younger when he fought against Arthur as well. "I don't know how I feel about fighting a kid. Couldn't I just give him a lollipop or something and this could all just work itself out?"

He meant it as a joke, but Patton seemed to take it seriously and started furiously shaking his head. "Don't think you could even try negotiating with him sir, the kid's a savage. Hacked and slashed his way through the guys with some kind of golden knife, they said. We're lucky our medics are so darned fast, otherwise, we would've been down almost a dozen men from him alone."

Something in Alfred's resolve hardened at the thought of losing his soldiers to someone so brutal. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, "Don't you worry, Pat. We'll end this soon, and when we win, we'll make sure that nobody from these islands ever lays a hand on any of our own."

That seemed to comfort Patton somewhat, though he was still shaking with anger. "I'll give them a good walloping right by your side, sire."

"Now that's the kind of patriotic determination I wanna see!" Alfred crowed. He then immediately scrambled for his wallet and hurriedly gave the private a wad of bills. Some onlookers openly gawked at seeing the number of dollar bills in his hand. "Tell you what, why don't you buy some booze, head back to camp, and inspire your fellow soldiers, eh? God knows we need some fun around here."

"Um," Patton blinked, caught off-guard. "I don't know if Major-General MacArthur—"

"Tell Major-General MacArthur that I'm just trying to boost morale," Alfred winked. "Also, tell him I'll back by next morning!"

He didn't get to hear Patton's response as he took off running wildly in the opposite direction. He barely registered running past the stores, wet market, and the cathedral; he just wanted to be alone and independent, exploring this new land to his heart's content. The buildings were shorter and the roads were narrower here than in his own country, but Alfred was just so glad to finally be in a place filled with people just like he was used to.

Alfred collapsed on his knees, winded. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that he had apparently made it to one of Manila's many ports. Past the numerous small fishing boats and trading boats, he could see that the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was painted in a pretty combination of pinks and oranges in contrast to the ocean's blue, the stars already starting to twinkle faintly into appearance one by one. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the rocks seemed louder than everything else around him — a stark reminder that no matter where he went, there was always something bigger to discover.

He stood there for a moment, mesmerized when a loud grunt startled him out of his stupor.

He turned to find some kind of bull staring at him with its beady eyes, its long horns curving towards the back instead of to the front. It was pulling a wagon full of leafy vegetables that Alfred couldn't recognize, and the old man riding it looked startled to come across a foreigner.

"Hijo, padaan naman po," he said, with a strained smile.

"Oh, sorry, I don't know what you mean," Alfred tried, but the man just continued smiling at him. He was starting to think that maybe abandoning Patton, who wasn't fluent but at the very least conversational in Tagalog, was a bad idea.

Luckily, someone came to his rescue. A teenager with bright eyes approached him, an amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. He was dressed simply: unlike the suit and tie ensemble of the richer Filipinos he'd come across or the pale blue uniform of the Philippine Army, he wore a thin white top and trousers cut just above his ankles. The scabbard on his hip would have been concerning if Alfred didn't know just how many Filipinos carried knives in their daily lives. All in all, he looked just like any other street vendor, but the red handkerchief tied around his neck was vibrant enough to make him stand out. "You are American, yes?"

"Ah yeah," Alfred flushed, a bit flustered. The way the stranger leaned in was a little too close for comfort, but he looked harmless and at least he spoke English. "Can you help me? I think that man is talking to me, but I can't understand what he's saying."

The teenager grabbed his arm to pull him to the side. The old man tipped his straw hat in thanks, and the teenager smiled, saying: "Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito."

The two of them watched the wagon pass them by. They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Alfred blurted out, "I didn't know I was in the way, I swear."

"You did seem quite distracted." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy laugh. The both of them turned to each other at the same time, a small smile on each other's faces. "Not that I blame you. I am sure you have sunsets in America, but it is different here than in other countries. I think the colors are more vibrant, do you agree?"

"Certainly takes my breath away," he admitted. "I do have to ask, how come you speak English so well? I've only been in Manila for a few days but I don't think I've met another Filipino that's as good as you are."

The teenager only laughed again and held on to Alfred's arm tighter. As he looked up at him, his eyes and grin were equally bright with mirth; and despite himself, Alfred was a bit charmed. "Us Filipinos are not as stupid as you think, señorito. Now, you say you are a stranger to Manila, yes? Come with me, and let me show you around my city."

—

They ended up hailing a tranvia, a carriage made to carry a whole group of people instead of just a pair. Alfred found it small and quaint, making an internal note to build tram lines in the city once he was able. Yet the energy that the teenager had with him was larger than life. He had apparently noticed the other passengers giving Alfred a suspicious side-eye, and immediately launched into a round of jokes to dispel the tension. Though he barely understood the jokes due to them being told in a mix of Spanish and Tagalog, the way that the whole tranvia burst into loud laughter was enough to assure him that his companion was quite the comedic performer.

When they got off, the driver even thanked them for the entertainment and told them not to pay the fare anymore. Alfred let out an excited whoo! as the teenager did an exaggerated bow.

As the carriage rode off, Alfred turned to his new friend and exclaimed, "Wow! The way you handled that was amazing! I mean, I've been through worse than an awkward train ride, but you definitely saved my ass back there."

The teenager blushed slightly. "Think nothing of it. I would rather see my companions happy and comfortable in my care than anything else."

"Still, that thing you did was certainly a swell sight." Alfred breathed in the cold evening air and let it out with a contented sigh. He looked straight into the other boy's eyes as he said, "And it's really nice that you're going through all the trouble to be with me tonight too! Like, we don't even know each other's names but you just whisked me away like some kind of fairytale hero! That was really awesome of you, I have to say."

"You are a man of sweet words," the teenager said, with a smile that looked almost bittersweet. Then, as if he had completely forgotten about his melancholy, he grabbed Alfred's arm again and dragged him towards the next street corner. "But let us not waste time talking! Most of these shops close soon, and I would hate for us to miss them!"

Helpless, Alfred let himself be strung along.

Sadly, most of the shops they went past had already closed for the day. Still, the teenager cheerily talked his ear off about what wares they sold and the local gossip about the people who ran those stores — like Pepito, owner of the clay pottery store, who had apparently given away all his lotto winnings to the next city's blacksmith. The one time that they had actually been able to buy something was when they came across a small, brightly-colored cart that apparently sold the Filipino version of ice cream. Both the vendor — Mang Tomas, as he was introduced — and the teenager had chuckled when he brought out a wallet full of dollars, so the teenager had to reach into his own pocket to pay with a few coins. As they walked past yet another cathedral, Alfred caught his friend singing the hymns under his breath. When they reached the plaza, the teenager then asked the lady standing nearby — Aling Nena, he was told — to give him a jasmine garland, the scent of the white flowers so powerful that it immediately made Alfred sneeze on his friend's face when he put them around his neck. Yet instead of getting mad like he expected, the teenager had only laughed and told him he looked handsome.

No matter where they went or who they talked to, his friend always seemed to know everyone's names. Alfred had no idea how he had the time to possibly get so familiar with all the people around him, but he certainly understood the sentiment; he loved talking with all the Americans that he came across with too. Personally getting to know the people who made his nation always made him feel more connected with them in a way that war and politics never could.

And if the Philippine Islands was truly to be his someday, Alfred knew he wanted to treat them similarly. More than anything or anyone else though, nobody in the archipelago had intrigued him most than the young man beside him whose smile was brighter than any star.

Yet all his experience in small talk failed him tonight, and not for lack of trying. Every time he asked questions about his friend, he was always diverted away from the topic.

Which part of the city are you from? was met with a vague Do you ask the flower which vine it came from? You are better off simply enjoying the whole garden.

Where is your family? had been completely ignored as his friend said You must be hungry, yes? I know a place with the best empanadas this side of Binondo.

What is your name? earned him a cheeky wink and a teasing If your mind still ventures to inane questions like that, then I am not doing very well in completely impressing you.

How old are you? made the teenager burst out into loud, hearty laughter that lasted for more than a minute. Alfred didn't even bother to try asking anything else after that, choosing to focus on his empanadas and arroz a la valenciana for the rest of the meal.

Later, when they were served a bottle of gin to share along with a bowl of peanuts, his friend had the grace to apologize for his behavior.

"I truly am sorry," he said, but the playful grin on his face made it difficult to take his apology seriously. "I simply do not think that you knowing more about me is more important than us having a good time together."

"How am I supposed to find you again if I don't know who you are, huh?" Alfred couldn't stop himself from whining. He ignored the glass in front of him, taking a swig straight from the bottle and letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His friend watched him in bemusement. "This has been the best night of my life in a long time. And if this is the last time we see each other, I don't think I'm going to forgive myself if I don't push you into giving me a hint."

This time, it was his friend's turn to take a drink: he filled his glass half-full and downed it all in one go. "You are certainly bold, señorito, I will give you that. A good friend of mine warned me about how loud and annoying Americans were, but it seems he neglected to tell me about how forward you all were as well."

Alfred resisted the urge to roll his eyes; of course, he would get deflected yet again. "Alright, I'll bite. Tell me more about your friend."

The teenager looked surprised. "You wish to know more about a man that insulted you?"

"If this is the closest I get to you telling me more about yourself, I'll take it," he shrugged. "Besides, I'd love to know how this friend of yours thinks. Americans are the greatest people in the world! He must be stupid if he doesn't know that."

The other boy laughed. "Of course you would say that, you biased brute. And I will have you know that my friend was quite smart, actually. One of the smartest men I have ever known."

Alfred felt like he wouldn't like the answer, but he asked anyway: "Was?"

All traces of laughter from his friend's face faded away into a hollow smile. "Killed by firing squad a few years ago."

Silently, Alfred poured gin into both of their glasses. They drank in solemn solidarity.

"My sincere condolences," said Alfred, and he meant it: he had lost too many friends himself over the centuries. "And I'm sorry I called him stupid."

His friend waved it off. "No worries. Pepe was incredibly intelligent, but he definitely had his fair share of stupid moments — you wouldn't believe how many times that man fell in love over the course of his short lifetime. Still, I miss him terribly and I wish he was still around. God only knows what he would have thought about everything happening at present."

"Oh, I know the feeling." Despite him dying decades prior, Alfred still longed for George Washington's steadfast guidance sometimes. He reached, a bit messily, for another drink. "It's uncanny, yeah? Some people just have this weird ability to analyze the present and predict the future. I certainly don't know how they do anything like it, really. I kind of just talk big and hope for the best."

"Funny that you talk about the future," the teenager chuckled. "Somehow, my friend even managed to predict that you would come here, Alfred. I did not believe him at the time, of course, but here you are."

"Here I am," Alfred repeated faintly. "Hold on, how did you know my—"

"Why were you all alone in my city, señorito?" His friend interrupted, looking up at him through his eyelashes. He leaned closer, close enough for the skin of their arms to touch, and Alfred suddenly forgot about all his worries. "I was very surprised to see you on your own, looking every bit like a lost little lamb. You are very lucky that I found you."

"Lucky indeed," he murmured, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It felt like the temperature in the room had risen by a dozen degrees. "Just wanted to explore, is all. MacArthur told me we had to stay low for a few more weeks, I got bored, and he let me out."

Those bright eyes were practically glittering as the teenager looked up at him, his fingers slowly tracing up his arm. "And you were alone? I always thought American soldiers traveled in pairs, but perhaps I was mistaken."

"No! No, you're right, you're definitely right," Alfred stammered out. He was sure his face was completely red by now. "I was with Private Wilkes earlier, but we, ah, got separated. He must be on the way back to Bulacan by now."

"How unfortunate," the other practically purred, clearly delighted. "Say, tell me, how did this Wilkes look like? Because I am sure that he does not look as handsome as you do."

That damned smile, now coy instead of kind and sweet, was tantalizingly close. If only he had the courage to lean down—

Alfred, trying desperately to distract himself, grabbed the bottle again and took a long swig.

There were about a million promises that threatened to spill from Alfred's lips, each one more outrageous than the other: Come with me. Stay with me. I'll keep you safe. I'll love you. Yet at the moment, he found himself tongue-tied. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere or the way the young boy across the table had so effortlessly allured him, but he felt like he was about to go insane. He barely registered the both of them standing up to leave, didn't question why they didn't need to pay at the restaurant, paid no heed to what his friend had whispered to the men standing guard by the door. His mind was in a muddy haze, and all he could focus on was the fact that his friend was holding his hand as he was led into the dark streets.

Dimly, Alfred thought that however striking he looked by the setting sun, he looked much more ethereal bathed in moonlight.

He must have said this aloud because the teenager laughed.

"You are a man of sweet words," he said, and there's that oddly bittersweet smile again. "And I wish we could have met in better circumstances."

"What's wrong with the way we met today? I had fun," Alfred argued. He swayed slightly on his feet, and his friend held on to him to keep him from falling. "Didn't you have fun?"

"You forget we are at war, señorito. And you forget that you are seeking to control me and my people, not find a lover." Despite the harsh words, the way his friend said this was soft and sad. Almost like he was somehow hurt. "It does not matter what we feel today if we are bound to fight each other tomorrow. Should you not know this by now?"

They walked together in silence, each supporting the other. Slowly, Alfred's alcohol-induced dizziness began to subside. It was replaced by a growing emptiness in his chest — and a heavy, heavy realization.

"You knew I was America this entire time." When his friend deigned to respond, he continued. "Then, why...?"

At this, the teenager laughed — broken and wistful and desperate, all at once. "I do not know myself. I was ready to attack you, but for some reason, the look in your eyes as you watched the sunset stopped me. I thought, if you could look at my country with such amazement, then you could see that this war is unnecessary. That if you could know my land and my people the way I knew them, full of vibrancy and color and light, then you could realize that they did not deserve to die.

"Yet as the night went on I began to realize my efforts were fruitless. It was not them you were looking at anymore, but me." Here, his friend faced him; Alfred barely catching a glimpse of his wet eyes before the teenager looked away. "Believe me, I would love to spend another night like this with you. But you have your responsibilities and so do I."

"Fruitless," Alfred repeated hollowly. The cold night wind was in stark contrast to the hot rage he felt bubbling inside him. He forcefully wrenched himself away from his friend, yelling: "You made me tell you classified information!"

In seconds, he watched the teenager's face go from shock to hurt to an angry glare.

"Do you not understand how badly I need to win this war? My people did not give their lives to free me from Spain just so you could swoop in and take over! So forgive me, señorito," his friend spat mockingly, "for trying to find whatever advantages my poor nation can get against such an imperialistic nation like you!"

"And do you not understand what we're trying to do here?" Alfred shouted. "We are fighting this war to save you! Don't you see that your country is a mess? That you're underdeveloped, uneducated, and unfit for self-rule? I was the hero who helped save your people from Spain, jackass, and—"

"—and you promised to give us independence, and yet all your countrymen seem to do is kill." The teenager finished, both his eyes and the hilt of his knife glinting golden under the moonlight. "Is that what freedom means to you, America? I beg to differ."

As Alfred stepped away from him in furious, furious betrayal, all he could think about was that the other boy looked so small.

"I thought of you as my friend," he said.

"And I thought of you as my liberator," the teenager said coolly. "I see we were both wrong."

A harsh whinny interrupted them both. Alfred turned to find Patton riding a chestnut brown horse, his face red from exhaustion but seemingly unharmed. The private stopped in front of him, dismounting without grace on the pavement. His face was red from exhaustion and his clothes looked considerably ruffled, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"It ain't my position to say this sire, but don't you dare ever try to run away from me like that again," Patton panted, giving a quick side-eye to the other teenager before dismissing him. "We best hurry now, because those two won't be happy about their stolen horse."

Just as he was about to ask who those two were, a pair of Filipinos with muskets turned the corner and ran towards them. He vaguely recognized them as the same two men who were standing guard at the restaurant. They shouted loudly, a mix of Tagalog and Spanish expletives that Alfred could barely recognize, and a phrase distinct enough that he felt like it was something significant: amang bayan.

Patton evidently recognized the words. He looked at him in a wide-eyed panic, saying, "Sire, we need to leave—"

And as quick as lightning, Patton fell to the ground with a sickening crack. Caught completely off-guard and his arms restrained, he was helpless against the teenager who had a knife at his throat: a knife that, as Alfred began to realize with a horrified lurch of his stomach, was engraved with golden flowers and the insignia of an eight-rayed sun.

"You must be Private Wilkes," the Philippines smiled. "I do hope you are enjoying my country."

"Get off him or else!" Alfred screamed, the combined events of the night making him feel like he was about to reach his breaking point. He reached for the pistol he kept hidden on his belt and took aim, hoping to God that the other nation wouldn't force him to shoot. Even after everything, he didn't feel like he had the nerve to hurt Philippines after the hours they spent together; maybe some other day, but not tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the two men had caught up to them. They angled their muskets at him from a distance. The horse, which Alfred had been planning to use for escape, had already taken off running in the commotion.

Patton stared up at him with fear in his eyes, a bleeding gash on his forehead, and Alfred's hands began to shake.

Above all else, Philippines was still smiling: eyes bright, amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. Slowly, he stood to approach him.

Like a switch had been flicked, his features turned soft and kind again — more like the boy that Alfred had met earlier, the boy who had dragged him around the streets of Manila with lighthearted laughter, the boy whose smile was brighter than any star. All Alfred could do was stand there, mesmerized once again, as his hand was gently pried away from the gun.

"Alfred," Philippines said this quietly, almost like he was invoking a prayer. He motioned the men to stand down. "I do not wish to fight."

"I don't want to either," Alfred admitted. Maybe there was hope... "C'mon, we can talk this through, right? Look, we haven't had a battle in months. It should be really easy to negotiate, yeah? I'll set up a meeting with your generals and mine, we'll have a civil discussion with no weapons allowed, and we'll reach a compromise."

The other nation was leaning in, and this time, Alfred took his chance. He held Philippines' cheek in his hands and they kissed, soft and quick and chaste.

"Of course," Alfred said, as he pulled away. "I would need your complete surrender—"

He was swiftly kneed in the stomach, disarmed, and shot.

"Alfred, I do not wish to fight," Philippines said, as he watched Alfred collapse to the ground. "But I have to. I hope you understand."

He vaguely registered Patton reaching out to him as his eyes closed and the blood pooled around him, but all he could focus on was watching the other nation walk away into the darkness.

—

When Alfred came to, he was already back at camp. Without thinking, he immediately trudged to the general's war office.

"Good morning, Major-General MacArthur," he smiled, bright and cheery. "Gather the troops. I want to destroy Manila immediately."

—

Notes:

This is set in October 1899, during those months when there were no battles or skirmishes between the two armies. On the first day of November, the Americans launched a major attack on the Filipinos. This attack happened in San Fabian, Pangasinan, not in Manila, but let's forget about that.

Major-General MacArthur is, of course, Arthur MacArthur Jr., who was a major military figure during the Philippine-American War. I also claim artistic license in hinting that the American camp was in Bulacan because it probably wasn't.

Alfred's comments about Manila looking like Mexico are based on a comment by former president Manuel L. Quezon when he visited Mexico back in 1937: "Everything was the same." He meant that very, very affectionately.

Here's a nifty map of modern Manila. Alfred and Patton start out in Quiapo, which is basically the heart of downtown Manila. Alfred runs all the way to Muelle del Rey, which, coincidentally, happens to be the same place where the Jones Bridge stands today. Alfred and Phili take the tranvia to Binondo, Manila's business district and home to the world's oldest Chinatown.

The names of the store owners and vendors that Phili talks about are references to assorted media in Philippine pop culture. Pepito is a reference to Pepito Manaloto, a long-time comedy show about a man who won the lotto. Mang Tomas (Mang being an informal way to refer to a male adult older than you) is the name of a popular brand of gravy. Aling Nena (Aling being an informal way to refer to a female adult older than you) is a reference to the song Tindahan ni Aling Nena, about a boy who falls in love with a storeowner's daughter.

The garland of white jasmines that Phili puts around Alfred's neck are supposed to be sampaguitas, our national flower. They're usually sold near churches and are given as a sign of respect.

I have no idea if there are actually empanadas and valenciana sold somewhere in Binondo, but let's jot that down to artistic license. But these are very much Filipino foods that were adapted from Spanish foods, which is why Phili brings it up when Alfred asks about his family.

The old friend that Phili keeps talking about is Jose Rizal, our national hero. He is primarily known for being a great writer, whose novels inspired the Philippine War for Independence, and for being killed for it. He is also known for being having a long list of lovers, many of them not even Filipino. Lesser known is the fact that he visited America, hated it, went on a train ride with an American, and hated it. He wrote a whole diary entry about how much he didn't like America and Americans. He had also predicted that out of all the world powers, it would be America who would probably take an interest in conquering the Philippines when Spain was out of the picture. Go figure. Rizal was also affectionately known by his nickname, Pepe.

I imagine Phili to be particularly proficient in arnis, which is also known as kali or eskrima. It's a kind of Filipino martial art, most easily recognizable as that one martial art where everyone is dual-wielding a pair of sticks. The sticks are actually for training. Traditionally, arnis is fought by dual-wielding knives or swords, and it's meant to be quick and efficient in defending, attacking, disarming, and killing. Phili's fictional ornately designed knife is inspired by this very real ornately designed knife. The detail of the eight-rayed sun is a reference to the eight-rayed sun in the Philippine flag.

Lastly (phew!), some Tagalog to English translations!

Hijo, padaan naman po - Young boy, kindly let me pass Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito - Sorry, grandfather*! He's not from around here. Lolo literally means grandfather but is a general way to refer to any elderly man regardless of any actual blood relation. Amang bayan - Fatherland

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 27 (23/07/21)

Pearl has replaced Joker for this session. Grian also played for a while despite it being 3am his time.

…

Tango: Mrs T, are you good? Are you good? Mrs Tango: I was talking to people, I’m sorry. What do I need? Impulse: You need to get ready to stab some people in the face.

...

*Grian has altered his outfit and accessories to match Etho’s, complete with blue colour* Grian: I’m also Etho. Brody: It looks like it. Tango: Oooh! Look at that! Etho: Ohh, you’re looking good, actually. Grian: I’m off-brand Etho. Brody: Hold on. *pause* Etho: Oh no, no. Don’t, Brody. Brody, deadpan: What are you talking about? I don’t know what you’re talking about. *Brody has also put on Etho’s outfit, making 3 blue-coloured characters with the green alien and lab coat* Grian: Well that’s just copying.

...

(due to technical issues, the crew had to go back to vanilla Among Us. in the process, Grian managed to nab the cyan colour from Etho and now looks exactly like Etho usually does)

*votes are revealed, everyone skipped except Grian who voted for Etho* Grian: *laughs* Etho: Oh come on! What? We were together the entire time, Grian! Grian, still laughing: I know. Etho: Now that’s just spiteful.

...

*Grian runs up to the top reactor panel* Impulse: I got the bottom [reactor panel]. Etho, running down to join him: Etho powers! Oh. Impulse stole it. Okay. Grian: Did you just call me Etho?

...

Grian: Alls I wanna say is Tango was running at me really hard, like- Tango: I was going to weapons. Grian: He had his head down and he was sprinting, saying nothing. He had vengeance in his heart. Tango: Watch as I modify my speed, yes. Grian: Just saying. He didn’t say anything, not a friendly hello. And I know Tango; he is a fan of friendly hellos. I’m just saying, this is really suspicious. Tango: Not when I’m tryina kill you, I’m not gonna give you a hello.

...

(Grian has changed his skin back now to the lighter red with a balloon accessory, Etho is back to normal)

Brody: Did you say Grian intentionally talked to you? Endless: No, he was ignoring me. Brody: Oh well that checks out.

...

*after Impulse framed Endless for Grian’s murder but got voted out the next round* Endless, dead: I hate you for getting away with that, Impulse. Impulse: *laughs* Endless: I hate you for other reasons too but I hate you for that especially. Impulse: I can’t believe they believed me.

...

Grian: *reports Skizz’s body* Grian: So this is pretty clear-cut. Evil, do you wanna- I’ll let you defend yourself before I tell everyone what happened. Evil: I would like to hear what story you’ve got to come up with, Grian. Grian: Alright, well, it’s as simple as I went into electrical and you were walking right out past the body. Pearl: But this happened, like, literally 1-2 seconds ago cuz I just walked away from Skizz. Grian: Yeah, I caught him killing [Skizz]. Impulse: Was he cleaning his knife off, by chance? Grian: He had it in his beak, shaking it side to side. Impulse, laughing: That’ll do it! *pause* Tango: Evil? Defence? Evil: I was… *pause* Grian: …killing someone? *long pause* Evil: You told the story perfectly.

...

Brody: Impulse is laughing. I don’t trust it. Impulse: You shouldn’t :)

...

Grian, whispering: Guys. It was Etho. Brody: Grian thinks it’s you. Grian, whispering: Grian KNOWS it’s you. Brody: KNOWS it’s you. *pause* Etho: That’s fine, you can vote me. See what happens. Impulse: If we vote Etho off, it’s gonna be really fun trying to figure out who it is after, cuz I got sus on nobody other than Etho. Brody: Okay. You said fun and I like fun. *votes* There you go. Impulse: Mmhmm! Let’s go for fun! *pause as everyone starts to vote* Grian: It might be Impulse, guys. Impulse: Yay for fun! Let’s go, Mrs Tango! Yay for fun! Mrs Tango: I did fun. *Etho is unanimously voted out* Brody: Etho! Why did you vote for yourself? Mrs Tango: Peer pressure.

...

Evil: I thought I was safe! I kill and I go to run out and here comes Grian and I’m like “son of a gun…” Astro: He must have a camera in that balloon or something. He can see everything. Impulse: Detective Grian! Check out his second channel.

...

Etho: So what makes you think I came from the left, Grian? Grian: I- Stop gaslighting me! It’s 4am, I might actually be wrong!

...

Endless: Brody’s got too many hats on. Brody: No, this is just the right amount of hats. Endless: It’s too many hats, sir. Brody: Don’t tell me how to live my life. You’re not my real dad.

...

Endless: Miss you, Astro. Evil: Did you miss him with your knife? Endless: I was standing right next to you in electrical!

...

Etho: I’ve got my eye on Balloon Boy a bit. Grian: You’ve always got your eye on Balloon Boy.

...

*everyone skipped except Endless, who voted for Grian* Grian: Endless! Why? Brody, to Etho: You convinced Endless. Impulse: Don’t worry about Endless, sometimes he just… you know.

...

Endless: I’m voting for Grian. Grian: What?! Wait wait wait wait wait, why are you voting for me? *long pause* Endless: You don’t know. Alright, let’s go. Grian: There’s literally nothing! Impulse: Welcome to Endless, Grian. This is Endless; don’t worry about it.

...

(Grian leaves the group)

*body is reported* Tango: Etho, where’d you just come from? *pause* Etho: I dunno. Tango: Mkay.

...

Endless: Pearl mocked me for saying ‘gas’ instead of ‘petrol’ so I’m voting for her.

...

Evil: Etho, are you feeling okay, buddy? Etho: I’m fine. It’s the rest of you that are crazy.

...

Astro: Okay so let’s vote for Mrs Tango because she blatantly came right in, killed Endless, and then jumped in the vent. Etho: Mrs Tango, you got a defence? Mrs Tango: Can you blame me? Etho: Good defence.

...

Brody: Hey, guess what? Endless wasn’t an imposter. Tango: Oh. We should vote him out anyways.

...

Skizz: That was VERY well done, Impulse. Impulse: Not well done enough, apparently. Skizz: No, it wasn’t good enough. But only because you’re not good enough. Impulse: HEY!

...

Astro, chasing Endless round the lobby: I’m sorry, Endless. Sorry, Endless. Endless: No, there’s no sorry! Killed first? We couldn’t just- We couldn’t just go aside and talk about it for a few minutes and then just let me not report you? I would’ve let you have that but you killed me first, dude! Astro: *laughs*

...

Brody: Tango seems like the kind of person who would kill Endless first. Tango: *laughs loudly* Ah, man. I hate you.

...

*Endless is the only person to have not gotten imposter the whole night* Endless: I love each and every one of you but this game is the stupidest game I’ve ever played in my life.

[ponds-of-ink]

Some Clue Design Notes Because Why Not

Here’s some notes of all the main player characters and how they could be portrayed if I made a personal game adaptation. Keep in mind that this was pretty much off the top of my head, so apologies for the era mixups.

Miss Scarlet

*Actress in her prime. Very well-versed in playing “Femme Fatale” roles. Whether or not she likes playing them is unfortunately unclear, as she spends more time pleasing her fans than answering questions.

*Has naturally brunette hair, but knows how to use wigs to “change” hair colors. This goes for makeup as well, but she doesn’t play around with it as often as one thinks. Perhaps she’s planning to be a “woman of a thousand hairstyles”?

*Usually has a smug, collected demeanor. There is a way to rattle her, but you’ll have to pry it out of her freshly cold, dead hands.

*Can also be very flirty, but surprisingly restrained in terms of letting something go “too far”. Either she’s waiting for a special someone, or she already has a special someone. Suspicious…

*Potential Weapon of Choice: Revolver

*Signature Color: Red

Mrs. Peacock

*Wife of a Peacock Feather Specialist… Whatever that means. Her surname wasn’t actually Peacock before marriage, so maybe… Ah, forget it. It’s a mystery in it of itself.

*As a result, she uses peacock feathers in her outfits. Sneak some in her hat, weave some into her dress patterns, intertwine it into her jewelry— You get the picture.

*Has grey streaks in her hair even though she’s middle-aged. Unless she’s out-matched Scarlet in terms of hair tomfoolery, something might be putting her under stress.

*Insists she is innocent, but could be misleading everyone. She is very clever for the wife of a Peacock Feather Specialist… If being a bit dumb is a common character trait of such people. What do I know? 

*Personal Weapon of Choice: Rope

*Signature Color: Blue. Preferably Dark Blue. 

Mrs. White

*Mr. Boddy’s house maid of ten years. Her outfits are surprisingly clean, given her duties (like extensive dusting or making sure the secret passages are tidy enough).

*Knows the most about Mr. Boddy, but prefers to keep things are stored away. She does drop hints at times, but only when needed.

*Looks very healthy and spry for a maid in her 50s, prematurely white hair aside. Perhaps all that running around has kept her in better shape than her last job as a… Perhaps I better not say.

*Her ice-cold demeanor about things can make her feel suspicious at first. However, as it is her default mood, I’d personally suggest not to use it as evidence. Rather, consider any fire in her eyes as a clue— literally or metaphorically.

*Potential Weapon of Choice: Candlestick

*Signature Color(s): White and Black

Mr. Green

*A man who almost became a reverend (or a vicar’s assistant, depending on who you ask), but a lust for gold overcame him. He keeps the nickname “Reverend” as a memento of what could have been… At least, that’s how the story goes.

*Shady avoiding of his past aside, he seems to be your usual conniving salesman. Overly combed hair, absurdly-patterned suit, a shifty look in the eye— Why, if it weren’t for his overall jolly behavior, you’d be forgiven for thinking he was the culprit! 

*Mr. Boddy talked with him about many things. Business proposals, stocks and bonds, how to bet properly, etc. Boddy seemed to not really care, due to what his cousin Dr. Black wrote about Green when they met in England. …Did I mention Green used to live in England? 

*Has a keen eye in detection as much as business, but he sometimes has trouble proving his circumstantial evidence. Whether or not this means he follows the rules of “takes one to know one” is hard to say. Let’s see if he’s too big for his britches… Well, in the metaphorical sense. Literally speaking, he is. 

*Potential Weapon of Choice: Lead Pipe… Though no one knows why.

*Signature Color: Green

Colonel Mustard

*A retired explorer from some undocumented journey in a far-off jungle. He seems to have tagged along with Mr. Green, due to both having British accents of some kind.

*Very prompt and matter-of-fact. This seems to have carried over from his traveling days, where he earned the nickname of “Colonel of the Jungle”. He may also be a bit (intellectually) slow, but he makes up for it in other ways. A naturally strong build being one of them.

*Doesn’t actually like the condiment mustard. Something about it bringing up bad memories of foreign cuisine. Still, he accepts the fact that his last name is the same as this “loathsome” food item.

*The strange thing is: His jungle travel ended years ago, yet no real records have really been uncovered (locked-up journals aside). He’s mentioned things in passing, but Mr. Boddy and Mrs. White seem to know what really happened back there.

*Potential Weapon of Choice: Knife

*Signature Color: Mustard Yellow

Professor Plum

*An English Professor with a love of reading in his spare time. Can be often seen browsing Mr. Boddy’s selection of books in the Library.

*Has knowledge on various topics, thanks to all that studying. Poetry, how to handle tools in violent ways, historical artifacts and where they could be located… It’s a wonder he isn’t a detective himself.

*Very professional-looking, messy ginger hair aside. It does appear, however, that he doesn’t mind getting his hands (or outfit) a little scuffed up. 

*Is very reserved, but can talk your ear off when he’s in a fit of passion over a beloved topic. He did this several times with Mr. Boddy, who listened intently. Could it be that one of these encounters somehow flew off the rails? 

*Potential Weapon of Choice: Wrench

*Signature Color: Plum Purple

[shinydelirium]

Kiro’s Rumors and Secrets: Discarded Light (Season 2 Chapters 6-9) Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

So I lied when I said I was gonna translate and post Kiro’s Season 2 chapter 12, lol. But rest assured, it will be next. Just wanted to include this R&S after translating chapter 8-9 to provide some more insight into Kiro’s character from an outsider’s perspective. Although it’s also a pathetic excuse to delay the chapter 12 translation cuz I know it’s gonna hurt just as much as the first time I read it T_T

Anyways, enjoy~

This “superstar” is always beyond everyone’s expectations.

[Chapter 1]

The giant, reinforced concrete extends high into the sky, and the spotlessly wiped glass reflects the neon and dilapidated crescent moon in the distance.

Ah Liu perched on the top of the building, aiming at the silent building opposite him.

Soon, the 8 o’clock bell and a sound in his earphones rang at the same time.

“It’s time to start.”

Ah Liu tightened the rope harness, confirmed the safety of the landing point, and jumped down into the bottomless abyss between the two buildings.

Ah Liu is a bartender, a kind of superficial meaning.

Although he is indeed employed by the owner of Mondlicht bar, his work is not just about bartending and wiping glasses.

“A guest will come in the afternoon, and you will be in charge of collecting it.”

In the bar, the man behind the counter hummed a small tune and placed the wine glasses on the shelf as usual, attached to the task at hand without raising his head.

Ah Liu nodded and when he got up, he heard the man add another sentence.

“This time it’s a long-term big deal. The employer’s status is a bit special, so be more cautious.”

Ah Liu has done many assignments, but the boss reminded him as if this is first time.

This means that the employer is really not good at talking.

The owner threw a report from the counter. Ah Liu took it and looked up in surprise after a few glances.

“What is this person?”

The owner knew what he was thinking, and smiled amusingly.

“When you see him, you will know how kind and compassionate my reminder is.”

Ah Liu put the file on the table suspiciously. The knife in his hand gave off a silver light, feeling a bit funny.

The man on the file has brilliant blonde hair and his blue eyes seem to reflect a clear lake along with a pure smile.

Even Ah Liu, who doesn’t know the entertainment industry at all, knows the person in the photo.

Kiro, the most sought-after superstar of the Inverted Smile Film and Television Company.

His smile appeared on the electronic screens in the streets and alleys as well as on the packaging bags of the new potato chips in the convenience store, making it difficult to miss for anyone who passed by.

Why would such a person who stands at the top, shining and dazzling, pay a big price for a piece of information?

Ah Liu glanced at the file. The paper listed the employer’s request and the price.

The price is irresistible, and the request is worthy of this astronomical price that is suffixed with many zeros.

“The work content of other people has already been arranged, so please prepare.”

Ah Liu made a rough estimate of the time and energy required to take this big arrangement, and then thought about his fortune, and neatly put the file into his pocket.

“It seems that for a long time, we have to work for this Mr. Kiro.”

Soon the appointed time arrives.

When the door of the bar was pushed open, Ah Liu involuntarily glances over.

The person who came in wore a black hat and was dressed up very simply. He walked straight to the bar, threw an envelope to the owner, and then reached out and took off the hat, revealing his golden hair.

“As agreed before.”

He said the words briefly, as if he didn’t want to say more.

If he hadn’t already known his identity, Ah Liu felt that the star’s temperament at the moment was more suitable for this bar than him.

The owner nodded, put away the envelope, and raised his chin towards Ah Liu.

Ah Liu leaned against the bar, turned the knife in his right hand, raised his eyebrows at the guest in front of him and said hello.

In fact, generally speaking, the attitude towards guests should be a little more polite, but Ah Liu was inexplicably teasing. Perhaps because of the other person, or perhaps he was just curious about the true appearance of the superstar hidden under his handsome face.

However, Kiro’s expression was plain and straightforward.

“My request, you should know everything.”

It was completely different from the reaction he expected. Ah Liu pulled back his shoulders and put away his knife.

“Almost. Although it’s a bit tricky, it can be done.”

It was probably the first time Kiro saw someone who dared to speak so directly. He raised his eyes and reminded him not to be serious.

“Think carefully, don’t accept the task so quickly.”

“We are in this business, and we have to do it to the end after receiving the customer’s order. Although this task is not my responsibility alone, but since it’s within the scope of my work, I will definitely do it for you.”

Ah Liu was frank and extended his hand towards Kiro.

“I will follow you in the future.”

Probably out of respect, Kiro held the hand that was stretched out, but that’s all. He didn’t seem to want any contact other than trading with the person in front of him.

“How it’s done, I will tell you later.”

After he said this, he didn’t stay any longer, so he turned and left the bar.

“Why did you find this star? He’s a bit different from what I thought.”

Ah Liu turned around, tapped his index finger on the table, making a clicking sound.

The owner slowly handed him a glass of wine and smiled meaningfully.

“He’s really not any ordinary star.”

“As for what kind of person, you will know soon enough.”

[Chapter 2]

Ah Liu is a practitioner with a sense of professional ethics.

Although he found it very difficult to understand the employer’s, Kiro’s, request, he paid enough for Ah Liu to add ingredients to the menu shamelessly. While eating instant noodles, he made preparations very rigorously.

When Ah Liu completed all the preparations, Kiro also came as scheduled, with a laptop computer.

Ah Liu didn’t think Kiro could help him with his work, but half an hour later, his impression of Kiro was completely overturned.

Kiro asked for some relevant information, then turned on the computer with familiarity, tapping the keyboard quickly with his fingers.

Soon, lines of complex codes flashed across the screen like some kind of fluorescent green tide with special beauty.

Ah Liu stared at Kiro’s movements dumbfounded and couldn’t help but utter a hometown dialect.

“Yo, how are you so good?”

Ah Liu knows that when employers choose a place like theirs, it means that they need to deliver a little more or less of their own secrets and trust.

But….it’s already hard being a star right now, do you have to have to work part-time on the side too?

The security system on the screen was easily hacked, and the red warning turned into a green traffic sign. Kiro stopped typing until he locked a certain area on the outskirts of Loveland City.

“Found it.”

He stretched his waist and habitually reached near the computer as if looking for something to drink.

When he didn’t feel anything he gave a soft “huh”. His extended hand stiffened for a second, and then quickly retracted it, speaking nonchalantly.

“I have locked a few addresses that appear to have logged in to the server, but the specific locations need to confirmed.”

“How is it on your end?”

Although shocked by Kiro’s hacking skills, Ah Liu did not forget his work, and pointed to the surveillance screen in front of him.

“The monitoring software is installed, but there is no movement yet.”

“I suggest waiting for another two or three days to take a look.”

Kiro nodded, put away the computer, put on his hat and mask, and left quietly.

Ah Liu stood up, moved his shoulders and inadvertently walked towards the window.

Next to a vending machine on the corner downstairs, Kiro, wearing a black hood, was bending over to drop coins and soon a bottle of green soda rolled out.

He was a little far away, but Ah Liu still saw the drink clearly.

The green apple flavor is very high in sugar, and young girls are unwilling to buy it, so they are always not able to be sold.

Kiro finished drinking in one breath. His eyes raised slightly, showing a satisfied look. He threw the plastic bottle into the trash can briskly, then turned and left.

Ah Liu once again became curious about Kiro.

[Chapter 3]

He didn’t meet Kiro again until a long time later.

During this period, Kiro did not take the initiative to contact Ah Liu, and he has been diligently monitoring the marked area while waiting for Kiro’s news.

The days of waiting were a bit boring. It wasn’t until one time, on the convenience store TV news that Ah Liu learned that Kiro was involved in a “wounding incident” and revealed his identity as an Evolver.

Ah Liu slurped the instant noodles. On TV, Kiro looked directly at the camera and generously admitted his hidden identity.

He swallowed the instant noodles, wondering what he was doing.

Although he didn’t have much contact with Kiro, he knew very well—this person would not be so reckless and willful, and that he might have his own reasons behind this incident.

After that, a while later, Kiro’s company also underwent some trouble, and he himself claimed to retreat for creation purposes.

In the silence, Ah Liu disassembled and reassembled the pistol bought from the black market in the dark. The screen beside the pistol showed clues that he finally tracked down.

Hunter game.

It’s time to contact his employer, he thought.

In the dark, the cheerful and broad bells rang—

The so-called hunter game, even though Ah Liu never heard of it before, Kiro specifically called him to investigate since it was also related to what they had checked before. Naturally, Ah Liu concentrated all his time and energy into it.

When following Kiro’s clues, he slowly became more aware that there was a behemoth showing his minions in the darkness.

But it paid off, and finally someone bit the hook that had been cast before.

Ah Liu stuffed a pistol into his waist, holding his cell phone, and dialed Kiro.

The phone picked up after a few rings.

“What’s up?”

“I found a building where the other party had been active. I’m going to explore it tonight. If I’m lucky, I might find something.”

Kiro on the other end paused for a moment, inhaled and quickly stopped talking.

It seemed that Kiro was not the only person on the phone. Ah Liu vaguely heard another person speaking to Kiro and his voice rose naturally.

“Savin, I’m really not stealing snacks. If you don’t believe me, then come and see for yourself.”

“Hey—wait, come back later. Now I’m bitter. As soon as you interrupted, the melody of my new song is gone.

“I never told anyone that you hid my three boxes of snacks and two refrigerators of carbonated drinks. So inhumane….”

The voice gradually became quieter, and it was probably the person named “Savin” who finally left Kiro alone.

Ah Liu felt that Kiro was really weird.

Obviously, he has the warmth of light that ordinary people can’t touch, but he had to turn around and go to the darkness.

He wanted to ask why, but held back.

Employers have their own secrets to some extent. Keeping to their duties and not asking too much is the best way to stay out of this circle.

After a while, Kiro’s calm voice came from the phone again.

“Send me the address and I’ll find you.”

“I’m fine by myself. You don’t trust me when I say this?”

Ah Liu felt that Kiro didn’t trust his capability. He repeatedly emphasized that his business potential was very good. His performance ranking has been ranked first.

But Kiro still insisted on working with him and Ah Liu couldn’t help but send Kiro the location of the building.

[Chapter 4]

Under the endless night sky, Ah Liu received Kiro’s signal.

He stood up and flung himself into the opposite building with the help of the rope. After he rolled into the room and came to a stop, Ah Liu suddenly held his breath.

There were no clues left as expected. The whole room was empty. The huge glass windows were opened and the cold moonlight showed the man’s brilliant blond hair and the timed explosive device in front of him.

“Was it successful?”

“It seems that someone expected this visit and left us a gift.”

Kiro’s expression was very calm but when Ah Liu saw the detonator under his feet, he couldn’t help sucking in a cold breath.

Kiro seemed to be indifferent, tapping quickly with both hands on the computer and laughed coolly.

“Although the internal structure is complicated, it is still flawed…”

“How long will it take?”

‘Five minutes.”

Ah Liu glanced at the time displayed on the screen and the countdown just reached five minutes.

“The risk is too great.”

Ah Liu crouched down, took out a wire from the portable tool bag beside him and gently inserted it into the bomb.

“Leave it to me, it will be done in a minute.”

He specializes in surgery. Ah Liu is best at disassembling and reassembling various complicated equipment. He moves cautiously.

Kiro didn’t say anything, he stopped hacking and switched to another interface.

There is nothing in this world that can come and go without a trace. No one can be completely invisible.

The ability of top hackers is to dig out some seemingly and completely irrelevant content from the vast data stream, and continue to piece together and combine them until they restore the trajectory of something generated, assembled, grown, and disbanded.

Every day, the flood of information carries everyone’s joy, anger, and sorrow, surging through the city and no one can stay out of the matter.

The people who had been in this room carefully avoided all information channels, but it was precisely this carelessness that allowed Kiro to find their exact address.

The computer snapped shut and Kiro briefly breathed out. At this time, Ah Liu also successfully analyzed the data of the detonator and shut it down perfectly.

“It’s done.”

Ah Liu stood up and looked at Kiro.

“What are you going to do with this thing? Take it away or keep it here?

“Since they gave such a ‘big gift’, how about a ‘return gift’?”

Kiro turned and walked towards the door hidden in the dark. Ah Liu picked up the device that had turned into a pile of scraps on the ground, and walked to catch up with Kiro.

After coming out of the building, Ah Liu stopped when he passed a small alley.

“Hold up.”

He shouted to Kiro and dropped a few coins into a battered vending machine.

With two crisp ‘plops’, accompanied by mechanical electronic sounds, two cyan bottles of carbonated drinks were held by Ah Liu.

He handed Kiro a bottle but didn’t move to take it. His voice was a little cold.

“I don’t like being spied on by others.”

Ah Liu laughed a few times, trying to pat Kiro’s shoulder, but was subtly averted. He didn’t feel embarrassed, so he touched his head instead.

“Shouldn’t a celebrity be used to being watched by others?”

Probably when he was immersed in darkness, no one would exactly associate him with the dazzling star on stage.

Kiro froze for a moment, then took the carbonated drink from Ah Liu’s hand.

“By the way, when the device was dismantled, how could you be sure that I could do it? Weren’t you afraid we would all be blown up?”

The person in front of him showed a slight smile. Although it was shallow, it was indeed Kiro’s smile.

At this moment, he seemed to be covered with light and shadow, and the sun and moon were equally magnificent.

“It was just a gamble.”

“It turned out that I was right.”

He finished his drink in one breath and walked around the corner with his hands in his pockets.

Ah Liu suddenly felt that Kiro was very interesting. If he worked with him, he would probably gain a lot of things that he hadn’t encountered before.

Thrilling enough, but also exciting.

For men, true friends should be like this.

In the bottom of his heart, he listed Kiro as a friend who had already had a “friend for life and death”, so he shouted to him.

“I’ll study the internal structure of the device when I go back. I’ll tell you the results but it will take several days.”

The person in the distance did not answer and disappeared into the depths of the night.

[Chapter 5]

It took a lot of effort to crack the device, and several days had passed by the time Ah Liu got all the analytical data.

Kiro sent the other party’s real server address. Following this clue and the special materials of the installation, Ah Liu has been busy for a long time. He also managed to get a sense of the so-called “Hunter Game” in his mind.

At this moment, perhaps somewhere in this world, a silent survival game is being staged.

Although he is used to fighting and killing, the nature of the incident is completely different. He feels it is necessary to tell Kiro immediately.

But the phone call couldn’t get through.

After waiting for a while at Mondlicht, Ah Liu got up and decided to go directly to Kiro.

One minute late, one more minute for risk of exposure.

However, Kiro had a deal with him, and the less people knew, the better. Instead of alerting the security guard, Ah Liu walked to the gate of the backyard with his waist bent.

The security system of the gate is complicated and difficult to understand.

When Ah Liu was scratching his head to study how to crack it, he suddenly heard Kiro’s voice.

He was sitting cross-legged in the yard with a mobile phone, a golden retriever in front of him.

Not knowing what the person on the other end said, Kiro spoke briskly, with a smile that could not be contained:

“Wait for me to show you the mushrooms I’ve grown these days! This one on top of my head is new!”

“I wrote a song at home these last few days and I will send it to you when I make the demo.”

“When the ban is lifted in a few days, I must have a big meal!”

“Do you have anything you want to eat?”

……

He naturally exudes the aura of a “little sun”. The grand light not only comes from Kiro, but it also seems to come from the person on the other end of the phone.

It turned out to be so, Ah Liu suddenly realized.

He has always wondered why Kiro had so many contradictory points, but the bright star walks in the dark, intersecting with people of his identity.

Now he found the answer.

Because even the stars that live above the clouds have a future that they want to gaze at and protect forever.

Suddenly, there was a shattering sound—

Ah Liu looked forward immediately. He didn’t know what was said on the phone. Kiro stood up instantly, holding the phone tightly, his eyes were full of fear and anger.

Next to him was a glass that has been broken into pieces.

This was the first time Ah Liu saw this look on Kiro’s face.

He seemed to have noticed something and without hesitation, he pushed aside the branches of the tree and walked straight out.

Since seeing Kiro’s first side, Ah Liu has not been accurate in all of Kiro’s predictions. But this time, he confidently wants to try again and he has a hunch that he will not be wrong.

And that is—

Kiro is a person worthy of his trust.

[wcmi-22]

Cold day for Coffee and Tea

By Allison Blossom

She didn’t know how he did it again but, it happened once again. Alice had found herself in the company of the Mad Man himself, Reginald Theophilus the Third and in a strange place no less. They had taken a nice little stroll through the park through the snow to admire the beauty of winter. Eventually both Reginald and Alice became cold which gave Reginald the idea of going to a new “hip” place that Alice had never heard of.

It was a new type of shop that had become very popular over the last few weeks. It was called a “Coffee Shop” which not only served coffee, of course, but also tea and pastries as well. They even had a stage for poetry reading, one acts and even for singers as well. The couple soon took off their winter coats with Reginald placing his brightly orange coat on one coat with his hat on top of the shelf and Alice placing her beautiful light blue coat on the other hook along with her scarf and earmuffs. Though at first Alice was unsure of what to make of this new exotic shop, yet, when Reginald took her to this place, she was surprised to see how peaceful it was and how it consisted of civilized people. Of course, it was a little difficult to understand the menu since Alice had never heard of such exotic drink like a “Latte” or a “Frappuccino”, so she simply got a cup of Earl Grey tea instead.

“Well, Sam,” he stated, “ I’ll have a Venti Pumpkin Spice Latte with 8 shots of vanilla, 1 pump of maple pecan sauce, 7 pumps pumpkin sauce, a splash of Almond milk, keep it warm, drizzle with a little bit of caramel, a light cinnamon dusting on the dollop top, light foam, some autumn sugar toppings, if you don’t mind, extra vanilla powder, extra pumpkin topping aaaaaaaannnnd light whip cream.”

“Of course, he would order something so complicated.” Alice thought with a smile.

“And what would the name be for this order?” Sam asked. Then Reginald smiled and whispered into the baristas’ ear the name and all the baristas said was “ Coming right up.”

Reginald soon leads Alice to two comfy chairs near the fireplace to warm them up from the snow outside.

Soon Alice’s name was called for her green tea which she was happy to receive. As they sat there for a while, Alice wondered when Reginald’s drink would be called.

“Well go on, Cricket.” Reginald says “Drink up!”

“It would be quite rude to drink when your order has not been given to you yet, Mr. Theophilus.”

“The third.” He interjected “But, don’t worry about me, Cricket, my order she be called soon.”

“I suppose so, since it was a long order.”

“And we should be able to recognize it by the name I gave it. I think you’ll like it.” He says with a sly grin which made Alice nervous. As she drank her hot tea, suddenly, the barista called out a strange name.

“A latte for a….knight in colorful armor? The barista calls.

Alice then looks at Reginald with a suspicious and stern look.

“I know what your thinking, cricket.” He says, “But trust me that’s not me.”

Yet, before Alice could say anything, Alice heard a jangling of armor and when she turned around, to her surprise, there was a knight in colorful armor walking over to the cash register to receive his Latte.

“Coffee for a… white foxy…Stallion ?” the barista called.

“Reginald!” Alice yells sternly “You miserable cad!!!!”

“That’s not me Cricket!” Reginald said giggling. Suddenly, a small walking and talking white fox along with a large horse walking on two legs came to the counter and received the coffee they ordered.

“See!” Reginald explained.

Alice soon rested in her comfy sea and began to sip her tea once more to calm her nerves.

“Order for… Alice’s future husband!” the Barista calls out causing Alice to do a small spit take. She then looks at the Mad hatter who had a sly toothy grin on his face.

“That’s me!” he sings.

He soon gets his latte and sits down in peace sipping it with delight as he glanced at his cricket still blushing and whose jaw was still on the floor.

“You know,” he finally said after he sipped his latte “I think Alice Theophilus has a nice ring to it don’t you think, dearest?”

Reginald soon regretted his statement because by the time he came out of the coffee shop, he had his pumpkin spice not in his hand, but rather on his head instead.

The End

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 2

3rd Person POV

By the age of nine, Jean and Tom Granger found that their adopted daughter (Y/n) was quite a peculiar child. It wasn't just the strange hourglass scar on her neck, but she was incredibly smart, picking things up that most kids in high school wouldn't understand.

By Year Five of school, (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger had aced all of her classes on top of taking Year Nine level classes - Geometry and AP Biology.

And by the age of ten, (Y/n) was fluent in Russian, French, and Spanish.

The eldest Grangers also learned that their adopted daughter was extremely athletic. (Y/n) had played football - what Americans called soccer - and was top of her class in her Karate and JiuJitzu classes.

(Y/n) was also an inventor. She could come up with solutions to problems that Jean Granger had told her that most adults couldn't solve. She had built her first circuit board at the age of five and her first engine at the age of eight.

The Grangers' had put a shed in their backyard where their adopted daughter was always tinkering with things she would buy or was gifted from neighbors.

It wasn't to say that Jean and Tom's other daughter wasn't smart, for Hermione Granger was very intelligent. But all three - including Hermione - knew that (Y/n) was on a whole different level of intelligence.

Hermione Jean Granger wakes on July 26th of 1991 to her sister standing over her, a wide smile on her face.

The two sisters - even considering that (Y/n) was adopted - looked nothing alike. Hermione had frizzy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, whereas (Y/n) had sleek (H/C) hair and brilliant green eyes. There was a strange thing about (Y/n)'s appearance though, she had an hourglass shaped scar on the side of her neck. (Y/n) liked the scar, but it reminded her of black widows, which wasn't great because (Y/n) didn't like spiders.

Hermione sit up in her bed, pushing her covers off her.

After the two use the bathroom - (Y/n) taking a quick shower and leaving her hair damp - they make their way downstairs to find their parents already in the kitchen.

"Morning girls," Mrs. Granger greets her daughters as she places breakfast on the table.

"Morning Mum," (Y/n) and Hermione say in unison.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were dressed for work - they were dentists at the local dentists' office a few miles away.

After the four finish breakfast, there is a knock on the door.

Looking slightly confused, Mr. Granger stands up from the table and walks towards the door.

He opens it to see a very stern looking woman with black hair and blue eyes.

"Good morning," Mr. Granger greets the woman.

"Good morning, sir," the black haired woman says. "Are your daughters home? I'm here about a scholarship, per say, for a new school."

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange excited looks.

"Yes, they are here," Mr. Granger answers the woman. "Would you like to come in?"

The woman nods and steps inside the neat house.

"Hermione! (Y/n)!" Tom Granger calls and the two girls rise from their chairs simultaneously and walk out into the living room.

(Y/n) waves shyly at the woman, surprising the other Grangers. (Y/n) was never shy.

A small smile spreads across the woman's face at the slight of (Y/n) and catches sight of the hourglass scar on her neck.

"Hermione and (Y/n), was it?" the woman asks and the two nod.

"I'm Professor McGonagall. I'm here about a school for gifted people like yourselves," the woman says.

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange gazes, like a clashing forest, brown on green.

"It might be hard to believe, but the two of you, you're witches," McGonagall says and (Y/n)'s gaze flashes a silver, almost too quickly for McGonagall to see, but the woman does.

This sends a flash of curiosity though McGonagall, but she holds out two letters.

(Y/n) and Hermione step forward and take the letters from the Professor.

Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger 100 Crestent View Ln. The Third Largest Bedroom Hampstead, London

"That's so very incredibly specific," (Y/n) murmurs. Opening the letter, she quickly reads:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

(Y/n) looks suspiciously at the letter for a moment before looking up. "Are you sure?" (Y/n) asks. "I'm not anyone special. I can't be a witch."

At the comment about (Y/n) being no one special, the other three Grangers exchange looks that McGonagall presumed to mean that they though that the statement wasn't true.

"Has nothing ever happened when you were afraid or nervous?" McGonagall asks and a flash of realization flashes behind (Y/n)'s eyes. "If you two have to go to work," McGonagall turns to Jean and Tom, "I can take the girls to find their school things."

(Y/n) looks excitedly over at her mother and father, "Mum, Dad, can we?"

Jean looks at McGonagall and nods.

Hermione and (Y/n) grin at each other.

"Go get dressed and then you can go," McGonagall says, smiling softly at the girls' excitement.

(Y/n) and Hermione run up the stairs.

(Y/n) goes to her bedroom and opens her closet door. She pulls out a black AC DC t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts from her dresser.

Thinking for a moment, she grabs a zip up hoodie and throws it on, placing her wallet inside one of the pockets.

(Y/n) stops at her sister's room and a moment later, Hermione pops out, dressed in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt.

"So, what do you think about this?"  (Y/n) asks as the two make their way down the stairs.

"I think it's interesting, us being witches and all," Hermione answers as the two enter the living room where they find their mother asking McGonagall to keep her daughters safe.

McGonagall, (Y/n), and Hermione walk outside and McGonagall tells the two girls to take her hand.

They do, and they're suddenly somewhere else. (Y/n) and Hermione look up to see a sign, which reads, The Leaky Cauldron.

They walk inside.

It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, "is this — can this be — ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter ... what an honor."

(Y/n) studies the boy for a moment, then he looks over at her, as though sensing her eyes on him.

The old bartender hurries out from behind the bar, rushes towards Harry and seizes his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." The boy didn't seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle.

(Y/n)'s POV

I look up at Professor McGonagall who looks at me with a question evident in her eyes, though I couldn't tell what it was.

McGonagall follows Harry and Hagrid out of the pub, Hermione and I following.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." Hagrid was saying.

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asks.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. ... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid responds. "Three up ... two across ..." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He taps the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceed to walk through the archway.

McGonagall follows the two and Hermione and I follow close behind.

"The first stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringotts," McGonagall says leading Hermione and I towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley.

The doors open and we walk in, the doors closing behind us. We walk over to what looks like a Santa Clause elf - pointy ears and relatively short.

"Good morning," McGonagall says, pulling out a golden key, "we need to visit Miss (L/n)'s vault."

"And does Miss (L/n) have her key?" the goblin asks.

McGonagall hands the goblin the key in her hand. "Very well," he says, handing the key back to McGonagall, who, in turn, hands it to me.

"I'll have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I follow Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Griphook holds the door open for us.

We walk into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It slopes steeply downwards and there are little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart comes hurtling up the tracks towards us. We climb in and are then off.

When the cart finally stops, the four of us get out stopped in front vault 714.

"Key please," Griphook says and I hand him my key.

I was confused though, because Vault 714 had no keyhole.

Griphook simply examines the key closely, and then hands it back to me. I guessed that they key must just be confidential.

"Stand back," says Griphook importantly. He strokes the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melts away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," says Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hermione asks curiously.

"About once every ten years," Griphook answers with a rather nasty grin.

3rd Person POV

Griphook steps aside and (Y/n) and Hermione's eyes go wide at the sheer amount of gold, silver, and bronze coins inside.

"This is mine?" (Y/n) asks Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly, holding out a drawstring bag.

"Your mother was very addiment on leaving most of her gold to you," McGonagall says and (Y/n) nods dumbly as she takes the bag.

Hermione helps (Y/n) scoop some of the coins into the bag. Though they had taken quite a bit of coins, it didn't even seem to make a dent in the large piles.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Professor McGonagall explains as (Y/n) studies a wooden box in front of the truckloads of gold coins. "There are seventeen silver Sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

(Y/n) nods absently as she opens the box, Hermione next to her.

Inside, she sees a stack of letters and a few pictures.

Hermione holds out her bag, and (Y/n) closes the box, placing it inside the bag.

(Y/n) smiles gratefully at her sister as Hermione pulls her backpack back onto her back.

One wild cart ride later, the three stand blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

Hermione pulls out her letter, and (Y/n) reads over her sister's shoulder:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungiby Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) I set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Where do we even start?" Hermione asks in amazement.

"If we get are cauldrons first, we can put our other supplies in it," (Y/n) thinks quickly.

Hermione nods and then both look up to Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly and leads the two to the Apothecary where they pick up two cauldrons and two supplies of basic potions ingredients for Hermione and (Y/n).

"Books now, 'Mione?" (Y/n) asks with a grin as they are about to pass a large bookshop.

Hermione shoots her sister a grin and the two girls walk into the bookshop, McGonagall waiting outside with their cauldrons and potions ingredients.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione grabs two of each of our course books while I look around at some of the other books. I grab: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of teh Twentieth Century, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled, The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean attitude about him.

Harry's POV (A couple minutes before)

Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin's shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when I started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," I said, not really liking him very much.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," I say.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," I respond.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," I say. I really don't like this boy, I thought.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," says the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," I say coldly.

"Do you?" says the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

"Oh, sorry," says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." I respond.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways."

A tinkling of a bell interrupts the boy. I look over to see two girls walk in.

"Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, "That's you done, my dear," and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," says the drawling boy.

3rd Person POV

A few minutes later, (Y/n) and Hermione walk into the bright sunlit alley, their robes folded neatly in a bag.

(Y/n) smiles at Professor McGonagall and places her robes into the cauldron, then (Y/n) lifts up the heavy cauldron, Hermione doing the same with her own.

"What next?" Hermione asks Professor McGonagall.

"You two still need wands," answers McGonagall, pointing towards a store.

As we walk closer, I read the sign, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The three of walk inside. A tinkling bell ring somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside, and an old man walks to the desk from teh deep recesses of the shop.

"Hello, good afternoon," the man says. "I am Mr. Ollivander. You two are here for wands I presume?" he asks and Hermione and (Y/n) nod.

"(Y/n) (L/n)," Mr. Ollivander says, "I was wondering if I was going to be seeing you soon." he pauses, looking carefully into (Y/n)'s eyes. "Your mother's eyes." At the statement, (Y/n)'s eyes seem to light up with curiosity. "It seems that only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve inches, ash wood with a unicorn hair core. Good for stubborn and courageous witches and wizards."

Even at this small amount of information, (Y/n) had perked up. Hermione glances over at her adopted sister and feels a rush of pity for her. She can't imagine not knowing who her parents were.

It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't remember, because she did have very vivid nighmares about a car slamming on the brakes, a flash of green light, then red, then everything would go dark. It always ended the same way however, with Mrs. Granger carrying a two year old (Y/n), who was clutching her black and white stuffed cat, back to her home.

(Y/n) wrenches herself out of her thoughts as Ollivander approaches her. He had come so close that he and (Y/n) were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touches the hourglass shaped car on the side of (Y/n)'s neck with a long white finger.

"I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it," he says softly and (Y/n) looks back up into the wand maker's misty silver eyes. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do . . ."

He stops, and (Y/n) continues to watch the wand maker, her green eyes flashing silver for the second time that day.

Ollivander, as though sensing (Y/n)'s desire to know more, moves onto Hermione, and she quickly revives her "Vine wood, Dragon heart-string, 10 1/4 inches, unyielding" wand.

(Y/n)'s POV

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then Hermione. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, "Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core, 12 1/4 inches. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world.'" Mr. Ollivander says, and I look up at him in shock. Hermione hadn't gotten such a lengthy explanation of her wand.

Mr. Ollivander fixes me with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that that phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers - just two. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, one of it's brothers gave you that scar."

I swallow thickly.

"Your other wand's brother, however, I sold just a mere thirty minutes ago," Ollivander continues, "to a young Harry Potter. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . I think that we must expect great things from you, Miss (L/n) . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible yes, but great."

Hermione and I return home a few hours later with Professor McGonagall, me clutching a woven basket that housed my new black and white cat Marvel inside.

3rd Person POV

Before they enter the house McGonagall stops (Y/n) before she can enter.

(Y/n) turns to looks quizzically at the professor.

"Good luck," the Professor says simply, then holds out to train tickets. "These are you and your sister's ticket's for Hogwarts." (Y/n) nods, taking the tickets. "I'll see you on September 1st," McGonagall says. Then the Professor turns around and walks away.

Word Count: 4,100 words

So yeah, here's Chapter 2.

I wonder if any of you know who (Y/n)'s dad is yet. I tried dropping some hints at the very beginning.

So yeah

I'll see y'all soon!

Love y'all!

              Kaitlynn 😍❤️

[talesofsonicasura]

Wonderful Hunter

Chapter 1: Awakening

Life was very odd when it came to the future. Sometimes souls are brought together in the most extreme circumstances...in a bang. Warning: Description of graphic injuries and swearing! Rating Estimate: Teen

I never wanted to be a hunter. Ever since I was little, there was a desire in me to perform. Dance on the stage to my own melody, to bring awe and in wonder for others to witness. A dream that I never had a chance to grab.

To perform in little free time, what wasn't taken by vigorous unwanted training. Nearly every piece of money made to buy materials with the purpose of crafting costumes was placed for ointment to mend any injury or ailment. A toy soldier who wished to no longer have a winding key.

Who would've thought that day where the key had broken was the day I died?

"What the hell did you do?!" The soft whir of electricity echoed through the void in a massive blur of distortion. Voices clear for all to hear but so jumbled that a possible identification of even a gender was impossible. Under all that chaos was a quiet heartbeat. "The machine is overloading! Everyone evacuate immediately!"

That soft whir grew into a high pitched whine as a formed cacophony alongside the harsh thuds from thousands of stomping feet. "___?! No, come back it's too dangerous! Leave that mongrel behind!" Growls of pain and concern from some unknown animal blend together with the crackle of electricity.

An explosion of bright white and velvet purple burst throughout the void with that heartbeat going silent and a small voice hidden amongst it all. Despite the darkness filling the abyss, sensations of phantom pain, muffled voices full of concern, and hands across the skin, that one voice overrides them all.

"We had a good run, pal. Misfits always stick together, ____."

Bright red eyes opened with a harsh start, their owner fully aware of the unfamiliar dimly lit room around them. These confused ruby orbs belonged to a young man around his mid 20s, and almost nude except for the black boxer briefs. Wild cherry blossom pink hair that ends halfway down the man's back, soft peach tan skin, 6'8 tall body sculpted with lithe but powerful muscle and covered in various scars.

Some of these healed wounds were mild such as scratches, bite marks, punctures but there were extreme ones from burns whether it be acid, electric or fire, 2 in deep lacerations to even a large bite mark on the jugular of his neck. Part of the man's body such as his chest and arms were covered in fresh gauze bandages paired with a crude makeshift splint on the right arm.

Raising an eyebrow, the young man removed the bandages whilst breaking the splint with a harsh pull before he took in his surroundings. The room seemed to belong to someone with a rich background from the decor alone. Pastel blue walls lined with beautiful expertly painted portraits, furnished dark oak dressers, a large vanity, double king sized bed complete with silk sheets, pillows, and hard oak frame, large oak wardrobe and three separate doors.

If anything, this made the man feel very out of place. He did catch what looked to be a pair of clothes folded by a table near him, a note on top of the stack. The pinkette delicately got out of the large bed and walked over to the table. 'Dear guest, sorry if I had to leave you a bit underdressed but your wounds needed to be addressed. Hope these would suit you until your wounds finally finish healing. The discussion about the armor would be a later dealing. Sincerely, Maestro of Wonderworld Theatre, Balan."

The man couldn't help the snort or raised eyebrow from the rhyme scheme of the note. His caretaker had left a plain white shirt and long black pants, the material being silk from spiders by the feel of it. Placing the clothes on, he noticed it was a perfect fit suspiciously as it wasn't too tight or loose.

Upon leaving the room, the young man fully understood where he was. It seemed to be a theatre, well, if a theatre was mixed with the dimensional size of a small mansion and aesthetics of a castle. The grand small staircases, rafters above a tall ceiling, fancy torches hanging through a few corridors and the various posters of different shows being some evidence.

As the pinkette walked down the halls, he couldn't ignore the feeling that he was either being watched or led somewhere. The corridors felt wrong, almost if the walls were alive and shuffling each other. He also can't forget the sensation of invisible eyes on his lone form. Whatever the case, the sound of someone talking or to be precise, two people grew louder.

"You are not touching my guest, Lance. Even if the man is odd, I will still hold a defensive stance./ That human isn't normal. Something you would easily notice if you drop being formal. Injuries on his flesh were those that can kill any human. You aren't blind to that weapon and armor made from materials that aren't of man."

Both voices were definitely male in tone and their owners' clearly arguing. The first voice was deep and had a texture similar to smooth chocolate, a type of sweetness paired with charisma. The second voice was softer just as it was light in pitch, however there was hidden animosity to the calm yet alluring tone, a siren luring their delusional prey.

All of it was coming behind a slightly opened door, perfect to peek through or eavesdrop. Quietly the pinkette tiptoed over to the oak frame, ruby eyes looking into the room on the other side. This particular door led to what appeared to be a bar from the kegs put on the side of the bar stand and the various liquor bottles stacked on the shelves behind it.

Sitting at a table adjacent to each other were two humanoids, both being significantly different from the other. The only traits these two oddities shared were their tall 10 maybe 11 ft tall forms, peculiarly thin waists, tendril-like hair, performer attire, spindly arms and spindly legs. Other than that, they could be considered Yin and Yang or opposites.

The one on the left had soft jellyfish-like pastel green hair similar to dreadlocks, pitch black skin, a large perpetual toothy smile, and amber yellow eyes that peered through his hat. A sparkling white hat bearing a red ribbon which acted like a mask for those odd eyes, red cravat, long sleeved short white coat with gold elegant rims, a black tuxedo vest, short red cape alongside fancy white gloves, long glittering white pants that were ruby red past the thigh with gold rims on the bottom, and white pointed shoes.

His opposed companion looked more human except for some glaring details. Deathly pale skin highlight by soft dark violet, long elven ears, blue eyes bearing slit pupils that dwelled in yellow iris, sharp clawed fingers, and long black tendrils with elegant markings in various colors such as green, pink, blue and yellow that sprung from the man's back but was also his hair.

A pitch black bodysuit with gold rims, torn long sleeved short violet cloak bearing elegant gold embroidery for a top, white mask shaped pauldrons on his bony hips and gold toed shoes made for nasty kicks. Wine glasses sat between these two eldritch like entities.

"Dragging others into darkness might be your role, but this one isn't taking a more grizzly toll. He is also greatly injured and like you said could've been dead if I didn't help instead." Spoke the top hatted male, that deep velvet voice belonging to him. It also meant that the darker counterpart had to be Lance from what the pinkette heard outside.

The young man scanned the room, ruby eyes looking for anything familiar to him. His focus immediately sharpened on the glint of darkish violet poking from a large wooden crate, belonging stripped off the pinkette. Carefully and quietly, the man opened the door then slipped inside.

He stuck close to the floor and moved about as the two slender giants were focused on their conversation. It was almost comical how the young man traveled on his hands and feet like a predatory cat, stealthily approaching the target without a sound.

The pinkette was about to reach for the box when the unexpected happened. The door he went through had slammed itself shut with a loud thud, both giants immediately pulled out of their conversation and watched as the chairs parted away from each other. An act that put the stunned human on full display, a deer in the headlights or hand in the cookie jar situation.

No one moved as it was a silent staredown, neither were expecting the chairs or door to come to life like that. It was the man who immediately broke out of his stupor first, the pinkette sidekicking the crate. The box shook as an object was flung out of it by the harsh force, a gun.

It was a double barrel shotgun that was an inky sinister violet in color, the barrels were that same violet but lightened to a red color by the end, the handle of the gun mimicked a dark violet scabbard bearing tannish gold spiral patterns on the side, bone like caparace similar to a segmented blade lined the bottom of the gun barrel and held the trigger within a bone like cage.

With very fluid movements, the pinkette grabbed the descending gun from the air by the handle and spun it until he was holding the trigger whilst the barrel was aimed at the two taller entities. Sapphire and amber could see the subtle cautious fear hidden in those steeled ruby orbs.

"Who the hell are you? And where am I?" The pinkette's voice was slightly rugged, fire within the husky baritone, and a bit of a growl in the pitch. You could hear how deadly serious the human male was at the moment from his voice alone. Lance and his unnamed companion carefully put their hands in the air, sudden movements would only spook the pinkette further.

"There is nothing to fear, you are completely safe here! Please put the gun down, such an item used in a theatre is a huge frown!" Even that giant smile remained despite the slight twitches that showed the top hatted male's nervousness, well, that plus the beads of sweat and now dot sized pupils.

Lance merely raised an eyebrow at the weapon. "You do know it is rude to destroy those bandages you were given? Balan had some difficulty but his will to help you was focused and driven." Those words made the pinkette lower his weapon but not drop it.

He contemplated the words then thought back to the note. Whatever conclusion that came to mind was enough for the smaller man to put the gun down on the table, something that eased the room's occupants. "That means you're Balan? Fucking hell. What the hell happened to me?" The pinkette questioned as he went to sit on the floor only for a chair to move in place instead.

An action that made the human jump back in shock, nearly kicking the chair. "Bloody hell! My day has already been Congalala shit so I really don't need all these magical shenanigans! Please tell me you have some liquor to spare." Balan and Lance could only look at each other completely aware of a very odd explanation.

Not even 5 minutes later, the pink haired man had down half a bottle of wine as he now sat with the taller odd men in the room. Massaging his head, the mortal man finally spoke up. "So I am in a magical sentient theatre that serves as a gateway to someone's heart. You two, mainly Balan, are tasked to use that magic to bring balance to anyone whose heart is out of place upon entering. Nearly godlike beings who performed this task for over 3000 years?"

The top hatted Maestro nodded his head in agreement while Lance took another swig of his wine glass. Both of them ignored the pinkette swearing under his breath, the guy was having a bad day so it was normal. Although none of them could deny that this particular person was anything normal at all.

"Alright. My name is Val'tah, Val'tah Choso and I'm a Monster Hunter." Val'tah quickly raised his hand up before Balan and Lance almost immediately shot out of their seats. "Whoa! Not that kind of hunter for Namielle's sake so don't have your knickers in a bunch. Do any of you have a pen and paper?"

Magically upon request, the mint green haired performer took out a pen and notepad from behind his cravat. Rolling his eyes, the hunter took the items and began to draw something on the paper. Val'tah then placed it on the table for both Maestros to see.

It was a sketch of what looked like a dragon made completely from stone. Stony humps that grew bits of moss protruding from the back, a tail that looked like large pebbles strung together, even flat wings to a wide meteor shaped body and narrowed rhinoceros-like face. "That is a Basarios, a Monster or species of monster."

Lance and Balan looked at the picture with curiosity. It definitely explained why the man had that sort of weapon or armor. "Hunters are sort of like mercenary peacekeepers. Whenever a monster starts a huge ruckus or someone has a job in monster infested territory, we get called to do it."

Taking a swig from the wine bottle, much to Balan's distaste, Val'tah continued. "We don't have to slay targets such as the Basarios if we want to. A Hunter has permission to capture and relocate any large monster to a better habitat, something that I usually do. Where I'm from, it's our duty to keep the balance of not only the ecosystem but between human and monster kind."

A hum of acknowledgment rumbled from Lance's throat, it was almost comical in a sense. Normal hunters have various goals in mind when it comes to hunting: glory or survival. This was the first time hearing about ones who bring balance amongst more dangerous fauna and humans. How very ironic.

"Very interesting, to imagine there is a world beyond the realm of our understanding. There is still a question, how did you end up in our sacred bastion?" Balan's question rang through Val'tah's head alongside a bit of pain. Memories flashing through the pinkette's mind as a look of solemn horror crossed his face.

"I'm remembering it now. I was assigned to an expedition to investigate some odd ruins located near Wyvern's End, a den of a very dangerous monster. Those ruins were actually a machine that accidentally turned on and… I think I was caught in an explosion. Dear Namielle, I think I died."

Silence washed over the room, it was so deafening that a pin drop could be considered a bomb going off. Balan's perpetual smile dropped into a neutral frown, horror crossing his eyes upon the hunter's visage earlier. Severe burns on the unprotected skin and his arm in a very unnatural angle...Wait.

Any other chance to say anything was stopped when a look of abstract terror and grief burned within Val'tah's eyes. "No…! Buena was with me. She must have got caught in the blast too! Where's Buena?!" The pinkette shot out of his chair, the piece of furniture hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Neither Lance or Balan could grab the hunter before he ran for the door, the hard oak opening into a gray expanse of rocky terrain than the actual hallway. Not that the change deterred the hunter as Val'tah ran in but surely took the two Maestros by surprise.

"The theatre opened its doors to a new world never seen before! Could this be the hunter's trauma born from his core or is it something more?" Balan was quick to pick out the growing intrigue within his darker counterpart's words. There was more going on with Val'tah but they couldn't figure it out without finding the man.

Both Maestros quickly ran through those doors to catch up with the hunter and his questionable head start. It appeared that the gray expanse was actually the part of a larger mountain, a steppe to be more accurate. Thick deciduous forests could be made out past some of the gray rocky cliffs other than the one the door led them there, vast yellow fields of grass and very rough uneven terrain laid alongside unknown fauna than just plants.

Or the terrifying large nest made from various sticks, broken logs, ivy, bones of different creatures; humans included, and large egg shell remains of whatever species made it. The only indication that this world was made by Val'tah's heart were the small floating islands and giant airborne accessories or props.

Ribbons woven through part of the forest, a showman's cane that hung by the cliff leading down to the grassy plain, masks hanging across the stone walls, and instruments disguised as plants or rocks playing beautiful music bearing a tribal origin by the beating drums, whistling flutes and sitar strings being strung.

"How very odd and peculiar. This place must be spawned from a memory very familiar. It will be harder to avoid any wrong, when the aura of this world is heavily strong." Balan spoke wearily, a feeling that they were being watched prickle the fuzz on his skin. There was also the strong sensation about splitting up being a very bad idea.

Using the cane to slide down to the forest below helped give both theatre dwellers a quick glimpse of the surrounding areas before they hit the ground. For a split second, Lance swore he saw something large moved through the trees. Whatever it was, it was too big to be Val'tah or any of his familiars.

Both Maestros landed on a reddish clay ridge, small ledges to an almost natural stone bridge connected the large ditch at the center, a small stream of water passing down the middle, various large mushrooms and beehives leaking honey from multiple branches. Or that they weren't exactly alone.

Grazing about the area were deer, their pelts were a dark green speckled by white dots that overlapped a soft peach underbelly, large grayish silver antlers for the males whilst the females had short black horns and azure eyes that stared at the duo. Some of the deer continued to munch on the flora while the others kept a wary gaze on Balan and Lance.

"Definitely inhabitants of Wonderworld but not quite. I think these deer were crafted by Val'tah's memories that hold powerful might." If these animals shared similar traits to their earthly counterparts, the Dark Maestro knew they were relatively harmless unless provoked.

Another thought then immediately crossed Balan's mind. "If these creatures are here, then we might have more to fear. These deer are prey…" Suddenly the various green pelted beasts rose their heads up, ears twitching as if they caught something the other two hadn't.

"Wouldn't a predator cause dismay?" The top hat wearing man really didn't like where things were going as the large herd began to scatter immediately when the sound of heavy thuds could be heard. One deer was running for the bridge, the thuds stopped and both Maestros only had time to blink when something large and purple snatched the scared fawn off the stone ground.

"Holy shit." Balan would've scolded Lance for foul language if they didn't have a bigger problem on their hands. The body of the snatched deer hung limply from the jaws of a giant purple monster. A 69 ft hulking dark violet draconic tiger, its body mostly covered in violet and yellow edged plates of caparace like armor bearing a ruby red underbelly, a short tigerine snout that held large sharp teeth and two large tusks at the ends of the mouth, giant jagged yellow horns that mimicked those on the helms of samurai which also covered long thin ears or the burning azure eyes.

Both front and back legs held four digit paws carrying razor sharp claws or what looked to be long yellow spikes on the forelegs, and the large reptilian tail that ended with a three pointed Spade spear. Balan and Lance watch the deer disappear into the beast's mouth, minced to pieces down its gullet and the feline smiled with blood tinted fangs.

Or that the draconic tiger let out a threatening roar right at the duo as bright blue fire burst from the edges of its mouth like a miasma. They barely had the chance to jump out of the way when the giant beast bounced at the two, sharp claws shredding through the dirt as if it were paper.

"This is a beast we'll have to fight or neither of us will come out alright!" Violence wasn't something Balan often indulged in but he knew there were times that he had no choice. Facing his hands forth, small spheres of yellow energy manifested on the maestro's fingertips before tossing them in the form of arrows.

With a wag of its tail, the draconic tiger brought forth burning blue will o' wisps and launched it back with a tail swipe. Both volleys of energy exploded into fireworks of their respective color, the armored beast leaping through the smoke with claws alight in blue fire.

Lance quickly dove under the beast while Balan flew over to the left side, the Dark Maestro flared out the tendrils on his back then slammed into the beast's unprotected belly alongside a vicious uppercut. The violet tiger felt the pain but took the opportunity to release a thin burst of glittering blue powder from its body before being launched into the air by Lance's attack.

Whatever the blue powder was irritated the raven haired male, the sensation being a mixture of itchy powder and bubbling hot grease. "Lance, look out!" Balan's shout made him look up at the airborne beast, the spade of its tail had opened into a trident as it swung the limb through the air.

The momentum being enough to correct the beast's position and trajectory so it could dive-bomb the Dark Maestro like a burning blue meteor. Neither of them expected for that particular powder to ignite upon contact as Balan watched his dark counterpart get flying by an azure explosion from his own body.

Creating a larger blast of yellow energy, the hat wearing man threw it at the violet tiger before heading over to his fallen ally. It let out a howl of annoyance upon the projectiles not only striking it's face but burst into a thick mustard smokescreen that made the feline gag.

Lance laid slanted by the tree he had hit, burn marks sprinkled over parts of his skin and clothing was singed too. "You okay, Lance?! This beast has more frightening power than just a ferocious stance!" Balan spoke, carefully helping his counterpart off the ground.

The movement made the elven male let out a mild hiss before shaking the greenette's hand off him. "As much as I like seeing you frown, this beast needs to be taken down. Balan, watch out for any powder from the skin of the hide, you'll lose more than just your pride."

Sharp claws of the draconic tiger swept away the hatted maestro's smokescreen. Bright blue fire burning burst the open jaws, the feline was absolutely pissed as even more azure fire spewed from the legs and tail or that the yellow ridges on the back and forelegs were now giant blades. It let out a furious roar forcing Balan and Lance to prepare for another attack.

That was until the entire world became silent, all of the instruments had oddly stopped playing. It was quiet until the sound of shamisen strings being plucked filled the still air with an orchestra of intimidating brass to follow in its wake. Sinister sounding melodies of violins and shinobue flutes were met with someone walking out from the brush.

It was Val'tah, a violet mask resembling the tiger donned on his face alongside dark violet coat with golden fur sleeves, dark violet hakama trousers decorated in elegant gold patterns reminiscent of fire and swords, two fake tails similar to the violet beast sewn on the back and without any shoes, only barefooted.

Balan and Lance stood speechless as the pinkette did something neither of them expected. The hunter had begun to dance in a style similar to those done by kabuki actors. His arms glided through the air, bits of glittering violet powder produced from the sleeves creating streaks in the air with an appearance mimicking purple misty fire.

Val'tah stomped his foot to the ground to spread out the mist like powder around him, the man spun into a short pirouette so he could stop in the Dragon Stance found in martial arts. It was like the hunter was manipulating magic to flow with his elegant and entrancing dance.

The sinister orchestra went perfectly with Val'tah's movements. Beating of hand drums, male chants with an ominous tone, shinobue flutes paired alongside the plucks of the shamisen and strung chords of the violin told a story on its own. A ritual performance of omens and cautionary tribulations.

Balan and Lance couldn't look away, neither could the beast who appeared to be calming down. The long yellow caparace blades lower themselves back into thin ridges, the trident tip of the tail collapses into its spade form and the eerie blue fire burning around the beast sputters out. Bright blue in its eyes dimming into a soft mellow teal.

Val'tah spun on the ball of his feet before transitioning into an aerial kick. The pinkette then used the momentum of the kick to position himself so he could bring down his arm in for a slash. He landed on the ground in a predatory stance, nails of his right hand dug into the soil, feet spread apart with knees bent for a crouch, left arm held out behind the man and the tiger mask facing the spectators.

The hunter then twirled himself into a backflip, all for the purpose of landing on his feet with his arms held and hands pressed together while the fingers were positioned to mimic fangs. Val'tah pulled his arms apart and let out a loud beastly roar with the final loud beats of the drum, the draconic tiger letting out its own roar in unison.

The pinkette took off his mask once the music returned to its more peaceful counterpart. "Glad I made it in time or Buena would've torn you to pieces. Luckily the Sonata of Omens can be played here or I would've been forced to do an acapella." Balan nearly choked upon the words Val'tah just said.

The giant hellish tiger that spews blue explosive fire was the hunter's friend?! Something Lance couldn't help but state the inquiry out loud. "You telling us the beast that nearly had us ravaged, is your companion that you ran off to scavenged?!"

Val'tah sheepishly scratched his head and let out a soft chuckle. The beast or Buena groomed their paws as if nothing happened. "She is a Magnamalo and they tend to be... tenacious predators. Buena is unique since she's friendlier than the regular 'malo, at least to me and any friend of mine."

Balan had a feeling there was more to this odd bond than just a story but… "At least your missing friend has been found, even if she treated us like a steak for a pound. Best to return back to the theatre, Lance got burnt bruises that need gauze by the meter." The top hatted Maestro then clapped his hands together as a giant door formed behind him.

It was big enough for the large Magnamalo to go through without any hindrance. Val'tah had a feeling there was going to be more magical convenience when it came to this odd theatre than just the taller duo living inside and a magical replica of the ritual clothing for the Sonata of Omens. Something to think about when he tries to figure out their situation.

And that's it! Yes this is a crossover between Balan Wonderworld and Monster Hunter but also my first Balan fic too! If you guys don't know, Balan Wonderworld is one of the games I've recently got and wholeheartedly. Sure it had problems but it was a delightful experience throughout my entire playthrough.

If you do decide to get the game, wait until it goes on sale. The full price isn't really suited considering the huge controversy involving it's development.

Our two star characters of this fic are an unlikely pair.

'The Hunter Who Wished To Dance' and owner of the mysterious 13th Door in Wonderworld: Val'tah Choso. A Monster Hunter who strived to become a performer but forsaken the goal partly for his ward, Buena.

Buena is a subspecies of Magnamalo called Will-O-Wisp Magnamalo. They expel blue fire often mistaken for spirit orbs and can engulf their body in an armor of azure fire for offensive defense. Only the Sonata of Omens, a mysterious ritualistic dance can calm a rampaging Magnamalo.

Until next time folks! I'll see you back in Wonderworld.

[animeyanderelover]

Can you write number 50 to Keinz Drocell?

Consider it as done.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, stalking, kidnapping

Prompt 50: “Tell me, is love supposed to be...this passionate?

Do you know the feeling of being watched constantly? The feeling of eyes drilling themselves into your soul wherever you go? The feeling of slowly going insane and starting to question your sanity? That’s what you were going through. The last few weeks had been more than just nerve wrecking for you. You had the feeling that something was watching your every movement. You had never seen anyone watching you, but your gut told you that you had a stalker. A really talented one since you even felt eyes on you when you were inside your house. You hadn’t told anyone about this so far because you still weren’t sure if you were right or wrong. It would also be pretty useless to inform the police without evidence shown. So you had endured this torture alone without anyone knowing. It had gotten worse and worse the longer it lasted and by now you couldn’t help, but always look around when you were walking on the streets. But no one seemed suspicious. Just normal people minding their own business. No one looked like a stalker to you. And that drove you crazy.

It had been late at evening when you had gotten home, the sun had already started to set down, illuminating the sky in warm colors. And you were done. Work was so stressing for you, probably you snapped at pretty much everyone who looked at you longer than a second. You guessed having the feeling of being watched had made you sensitive regarding this topic. And even now the gaze was still on you. In your own four walls. You really hoped that this all was just a really bad case of paranoia and nothing more. But that still didn’t stop you from covering yourself with the blankets when you changed in your nightclothes. It there really was somebody watching you, you wouldn’t let them see you naked. After you were finished with changing you checked twice if all of the windows and doors were locked up. You knew that this probably looked a bit overcautious, but you felt a bit more at ease when you did this. You glanced out of the window, looking at the streets of London. Since it was getting late the crowds out there slowly died out, the streets slowly getting empty. And that’s when your eyes suddenly stopped at a specific person out there. A man who had light orange hair and was wearing a blue tailcoat and a black top hat. A music box was hanging around his neck.

Why you had stared at him in the first place? You didn’t know, probably because he stood with his clothes clearly out from the crowd. Or it was maybe the fact that he was just standing there, not caring about the people passing by him and glancing curiously at him. He just stood there. Right in front of your house. Was he waiting for someone? You just stood there, leaning on your window to catch a glimpse at his face, but he had his head hung low so that you weren’t able to. A few minutes passed by and he still didn’t move an inch. You had heard from one of your friends that some humans were able to fall asleep whilst standing. Was that the case? Why did you even mind so much? You should just lay down in your bed. Other people could take care of him. But just as you were about to turn around the man suddenly lifted his head. He was handsome, you gave him that. He had amethyst colored eyes and some pretty looking symbol was painted under his right eye. For a moment you were just taking in all his features before you realized something. His gaze was fixicated on you, his amethyst eyes focusing on you. That’s when you felt it over you washing. The same feeling that had seemed to follow you this past few weeks. No way! Was this man your stalker?! Both of you stared at each other for a few moments and you could feel your heart drumming against your chest, your mind racing with panicked thoughts. That’s when the man suddenly turned away from you, disappearing in the crowd. You watched him until you couldn’t see him anymore, letting a breath out you didn’t know you were holding in and closing the curtains. Had you just seen your stalker? But why was he suddenly showing himself?

You woke up later that night. You didn’t know why exactly, probably because the sleep you had gotten so far wasn’t very relaxing. That damn guy was even watching you in your sleep. His face had been everywhere in your dreams. You sighed and turned around so that you were facing the door leading out of the room. You hadn’t opened your eyes so far and didn’t want too. That was at least until you felt your skin crawling with uneasiness. It was the feeling you always had when someone was watching you. But right now it felt so intense, too intense. As if someone was standing right in the room and watching you. You slowly opened one of your eyes. You nearly suffered from a heart attack then and there. Only inches away from you was kneeling the same man who had looked at you this evening and who’s face had haunted you in your dreams. “AAAHHH!!!!” You let a terrified scream out, pushed him out of your way and raced towards the door. But before you could reach the door you suddenly felt something cold wrapping itself around your legs. You saw how your face was racing towards the hard and dirty ground, preparing yourself for the most likely painful impact, but it never came. Instead you felt two arms grabbing you under your armpits and preventing you to meet the ground.

“Please be more careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.” You tensed up when you heard his velvet voice. You turned your head around to get a better look at him. He was staring intensely at you, giving you the feeling that he wanted to pierce your soul with his somewhat emotionless eyes. “W-who are you? And what do you want?” He tilted his head a bit at your question. “My name?” He sounded almost clueless. He became silent and looked like he tried to find an answer to your question. Did he really not know what his name was? “I suppose...that my name is Keinz Drocell.”, he spoke after a few moments. Took him long enough. “And I’m here to take you.” He sounded so awfully calm whilst saying that as if it was someone normal. You on the other hand felt downright horrified. How could he sound so...so apathetic? “You’re the one who watched me, didn’t you?” “I did.” Again he sounded terrifying calm. “Do you even realize that what you did and what you’re about to do is wrong?! Are you crazy?!”, you yelled, fear audible in your voice.

“I reasoned with myself that I have to do this because I love you.” He...loved...you? “When I first saw you, you were a shining beauty and originally I planned to turn you into a puppet made out of silver and gold to match your beauty. But when I started watching you I suddenly felt so...weird. It felt like something invisible pulled me to you. The way you laugh, talk and move. All of it was a masterpiece. I came to realize that if I would turn you into a puppet, I would ruin all of this. Not even the most noble materials could suit you. You’re already a masterpiece.” Turning you into a puppet?! The most noble materials?! You a masterpiece?! What was he talking about?! You had started shaking. This guy was scaring the living shit out of you! “But there was another thing that made me realize that you’re special.” Another one?! “Whenever I look at you I feel a tingling sensation in my core. I reasoned, that I must be human, but then why do I feel so empty without you? I never realized how lonely I was until I was away from you. I came to the conclusion that I don’t like it when I can’t see you and I also don’t like it when you spent your time with other people. It feels like I’m burning when I see how they dare to ruin such a masterpiece of you. So I was thinking to myself, why not take you with me? I’m sure that I’ll get endless inspiration from you and one day the both of us could probably create together puppets.”

You didn’t know what exactly came over you in that moment. It was probably pure survival instinct. But you suddenly turned around and swinged your fist with his face. A hollow sound was heard and in the next moment you felt pain shooting through your hand. You cried out and instantly pulled your hand back, observing your knuckles. Where your hand had hit his face the skin started to turn red already and some of your skin had even been scratched open from the impact. You stared stunned at your hand. His skin... It hadn’t felt normal. It was too hard and too cold to be human skin. When you looked up you shrieked sharply. His head was turned around in an angle that couldn’t be considered normal. It became even more eerie when he slowly rotated his head 360 degree until he was facing you again. His cheek looked perfectly fine, not a single scratch on his skin. He glanced down at your hand before slowly taking your hand in one of his gloved and caressing with his thumb the reddened and partially peeled off skin. “Didn’t I tell you to be more careful? Now you’ve ruined your skin. But if I remember right your body will heal this wound very soon again.”

You had the feeling that your eyeballs would pop out of your skull if you would continue staring at him with your eyes wide open. You glanced back and forth between your hand and his face. Then you did something unexpected. You lifted your not hurt hand towards his face, touching his skin carefully and tracing the tip of your fingers over it. That was no skin! What was that? It was cold and very smooth. Was that...wood? Keinz had started to stare intensely at you after you had started to caress his face. “What in the world...are you?”, you asked him shocked. He blinked a few times. “I’m human. I suppose.” “You don’t know what you really are?”, you asked him. For a moment he fell silent. “Am I not human?” So he really didn’t know. You almost felt a bit bad for him. When you were about to pull your hand away from his head one of his hands suddenly grabbed your wrist. “Don’t stop. For some reason I like it when you caress my face.” He pressed your hand against his face again. You were too perplexed to do anything else in the moment so you just continued stroking his face.

“Do you have experience in love?”, he suddenly asked out of the blue. “Huh?”, you asked confused, catched off-guard. But after a few moments you answered:”I suppose I have?” “Tell me, is love supposed to to be...this passionate?” You froze, shifting your gaze to the ground. How could you answer that question? He was obviously no human and seemed to be a bit lost in general when it came to how to act around other humans. Would he even understand you if you would answer him? You doubted it, but he was obvious waiting for your answer. “No. Normally it isn’t. But I guess you’re just a special case?” You sounded extremely unsure. Keinz seemed to try to find a deeper meaning behind your words. “So...you say I’m different?” “More or less.”, you replied. Keinz stared down at his hands clenching them to fists and opening them again. “I’m no human?” You kept quiet, clueless about how to help him. For a short moment you were certain that you saw a flash of sadness in his eyes, but they turned quickly back to their emotionless look. “I guess it doesn’t matter whether I’m human or not.” His grip around your wrist tightened and he moved his face closer to yours, too close for your taste. “As long as I have you with me I feel something. I feel emotions. I feel human. That only adds a new reason for me to take you. Even if I’m not human, as long as I can feel like one by keeping you with me I’m fine.”

[hookedonapirate]

Trick or Treat

A/N: It feels so great to post again. I've been in a writing slump for several weeks now, so I wanted to write something short and sweet to get the writing juices flowing. Thank you @hollyethecurious for your ideas for the premise and @darkcolinodonorgasm for Killian’s costume!

Rated: Teen and up for mature language

“Well, that’s disturbing.” Emma grimaces at the zombie gnome with gnarly teeth, reaching out with dirt and blood covered hands like he's coming out of the ground to get them. Even though it's not real, the graphics are enough to give a kid nightmares.

 “That’s so cool, Mommy!”

 Well, any kid who’s not her seven-year-old son that is. Henry runs down the sidewalk, his oversized hat falling off his head. He’s a ball of energy most days, but tonight, he’s extra energetic, and he hasn’t even had any candy yet.

 “Kid, your hat!” She follows after him, picking up his hat from the winding walkway which is lined with jack-o'-lanterns on each side. But as she passes each one, she’s surprised when she realizes these aren’t just typical jack-o'-lanterns with a mouth, nose and eyes carved into them. No, these are intricately crafted jack-o'-lanterns. One is carved into a haunted house, one is a graveyard full of ghosts, another looks like a skull from afar, but up close, it appears to be carved into long stem mushrooms and grass. Her favorite is the pumpkin carving that mimics a scene from the Nightmare Before Christmas. 

 Like seriously, who has time to carve out all these pumpkins? And why weren’t the Jack-o'-lanterns on display as she had seen at the Night of 1,000 Jack-o'-lanterns at the Chicago Botanic Garden? Whoever carved these has some ridiculous artistic talent. They are also way too into Halloween, because their yard is all decked out. There are games set up on tables in the yard, skeletons and ghosts hanging from the trees and tombstone yard signs all over. 

 As she walks up the steps to the house, fake fog sweeps around her feet, the porch is covered in fake cobwebs with large spiders and the porch railing is lined with decorated jars, “potions”, skulls and other Halloween themed knickknacks. She laughs at the potion bottle labeled, “love potion.” When she reaches the door, which is wide open, a group of kids in cute costumes gathered around waiting for treats, she’s expecting the three looney witches from Hocus Pocus to emerge from the house. 

 When a man in a black top hat, tailcoat and a cane appears through the door with a bowl full of candy, she realizes how wrong she is. 

 Boy, is she wrong.

 Holy shit, he’s gorgeous. His skin looks ghostly white from the makeup on his face and he's wearing a brown curly mustache, but those vivid blue eyes are so very blue, even in the dark and under the hat he’s wearing. She’s afraid those eyes will set her on fire when he looks at her.

 “Trick or treat!” the children chorus. 

 Emma can’t take her eyes off the man as he excitedly hands out candy.

 “I love your costume, lassie,” he compliments a little girl who's wearing an Elsa costume.

 He has an accent? Holy hell.

 The little girl frowns, clearly not understanding what he meant by lassie. “I’m not a dog, I’m Elsa.”

 He chuckles, dropping a candy bar into her pumpkin bucket. “My apologies, Elsa. Please don’t blast me with ice.”

 “Thank you, mister,” she says cheerfully before scurrying down the steps to meet her parents at the end of the walkway. 

 “Trick or treat!”

 The man looks toward the small voice, seeing Henry approaching him. He grins big and wide, which makes him look much creepier than he already looks in his costume. Creepy, but sexy. “Well, hi there. Captain Hook, I presume?”

 Henry nods his head and opens his Halloween sack, using his plastic hook to hold one of the straps.

 “Very nice costume, lad. My favorite one so far.”

 “Thank you. I made it,” Emma boasts with a smile as she steps behind her son, placing the hat on his head. She’s not normally one to brag, but then again bragging doesn’t normally afford her the opportunity to talk to ridiculously handsome strangers.

 The man looks up, and when his eyes finally connect with hers, he completely steals her breath. She was wrong. His smoldering blue eyes don’t set her on fire, but they do make her melt.

 And his heavy stare makes her skin tingle.

 “You made this lovely costume?”

 She waves her hand nonchalantly. “It was easy. Just took a red, long-sleeved shirt, some ribbon and slapped some red felt and white feathers on a straw hat and voila.”

 “Very impressive, lass.” He glances at her shirt briefly before returning his eyes to hers. “Did you also make your costume?” he asks, his eyes dancing with mirth. He must have been referring to her red leather jacket and white t-shirt that reads, “This IS my Halloween costume.”

 Emma laughs. “No, I bought it on Amazon.” 

 “Wow, Mom, check this out! Full-size candy bars!” Henry shouts excitedly when the stranger deposits the candy bar into his sack.

 Emma tears her eyes from this man’s mesmerizing blue ones to see the full-size Snickers bar Henry’s holding out to show her. “Huh, people actually do give out full-size candy bars.” She looks up at the man. “I’m impressed. Let me guess, you also carved those pumpkins, too?” she asks, pointing to the pumpkins in his yard.

 He nods with a small smile. “I did. You’d be amazed by what I can do with these hands,” he says smugly.

 Emma wants to roll her eyes, but she can’t deny she very much wishes to find out exactly what he can do with those hands. Instead, she flashes a sarcastic smirk. “So who are you supposed to be, Jack the Ripper?” 

 He chuckles. “Not quite. I’m a gentleman from the Victorian Era. A devilishly handsome gentleman, may I add.”

 She cocks a brow, laughter bubbling in her throat. “If by a  devilishly handsome gentleman, you mean creepy.”

 He sets down the candy bowl and surprises her when he takes her hand in his and lowers his head, murmuring softly as he looks up at her. “The name’s Killian Jones. And it just so happens, I’m always a gentleman. Not just on Halloween.” His touch sears her skin, then he presses his lips to the back of her hand and it feels like electrical currents are surging through her. Her breath catches, and she’s worried he will notice. Judging by the smirk spreading across her skin, he definitely noticed.

 Emma turns her head, looking for her son, whom she spots in the yard playing games with the other kids, their parents supervising them. “I should get back to my son.”

 This man actually pouts as he releases her hand. And it’s freaking adorable. “I told you my name and yet you haven't told me yours?”

 She bites her bottom lip, contemplating whether she should or not. But then again, what’s the harm? It is a small town, so they’ll probably end up running into each other again at some point. “It’s Emma.”

 He grins, making her heart melt. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”

 “Likewise.” 

 He scratches behind his ear, which makes him look less creepy and even more adorable. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new in town?”

 “I’m from Chicago.”

 “Well, love, welcome to Storybrooke.”

  Oh. Now he’s calling her love? Can this man get any sexier? Jesus Christ. “Thank you.” She gives him a shy smile and turns to head down the steps.

 “Wait. Before you go, I have a treat for you, too.” 

 She spins around, arching her brow. “Oh, that’s okay. Henry will share some of his candy with me.”

 He chuckles and shakes his head. “This treat is not for kids.”

 Emma gulps. “What kind of treat did you have in mind?” Something salty? Her mind definitely did not go into the gutter there. Okay, it totally did. 

 He heads inside, then returns not a moment later with a caramel apple. 

 “A caramel apple?” She almost sounds disappointed. But she’s definitely not.

 “Aye, but not just any caramel apple. It’s an adult caramel apple. So make sure you don’t share this with your lad.”

 She eyes it suspiciously. “It’s not laced with love potion, is it?”

 He chuckles and leans closer, whispering in her ear. “No. But it is laced with cannabis-infused butter.”

 Emma smirks as she takes the caramel apple. “Wow, you really go all out on Halloween, don’t you?”

 He shrugs. “You should come back around Christmas.”

 “Oh God, you’re not one of those people who goes completely crazy with the Christmas lights and the decorations and Santa and his reindeer on the roof, are you?”

 He shrugs again, donning a smirk. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

 “Is that an invitation?” Because she's definitely not thinking about inviting him to get high and engage in hot, sweaty sex with her. Not at all.  

 “Perhaps. Do you and your son enjoy hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies in front of a cozy fireplace?”

 She eyes the caramel apple and then glances up at him. “Does Santa enjoy adult cookies with his milk?”

 His grin widens, making her heartbeat skyrocket out of her chest. “Aye, then it’s a date.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not a date.” She doesn’t like the idea of waiting until Christmas to see him again, though.

 His face clouds with guilt. Sorry, love, I just didn't see a wedding ring on your finger so I assumed-”

 “I'm not married,” she clarifies, her cheeks flushing because of the fact that he was curious enough to check her hand for a ring. “Nor do I have a boyfriend. I'm single.” Very single. She's never been so glad to be single before.

 He sighs in relief, which gives her the courage to say what's on her mind and to thankfully change the subject.

 “You know, adult cookies aren’t just for Christmas...”

 He cocks his brow, and good Lord, she really needs him to stop doing that, because it’s doing things to her breathing and her heart. “No? What other special occasions are they for?”

 She shrugs. “Like a Saturday night, say next week when my parents are taking Henry for the weekend.”

 His eyes flash with something she can only describe as excitement. Or anticipation, maybe? “But still not a date, right?”

 She shakes her head. “Nope, just two adults enjoying their adult cookies.” 

 He laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring the apple cider.”

 “Sounds like a date,” she says accidentally when she had meant to say Sounds like a plan. But she doesn't even bother correcting herself as her cheeks warm with blush. She backs away and manages to rip her eyes from him to turn around and head down the steps. She finds Henry playing a game with the kids and takes his hand, telling him it’s getting late. He leaves with a groan but doesn't make a fuss. 

 As they leave the yard, Emma turns around, getting one last glimpse of the devilishly handsome Victorian gentleman. He winks and smiles at her, making her heart stutter, and she blushes and walks away as she leaves with her son.

  She had doubts when she moved to this small town to start over, but the warm feeling in her chest is telling her perhaps coming to Storybrooke wasn't a bad idea after all.

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading:

@kmomof4 @teamhook @ilovemesomekillianjones @onceuponaprincessworld @artistic-writer @nikkiemms @snowbellewells @donteattheappleshook @itsfabianadocarmo​ @searchingwardrobes​ @melly326​

[jinxofthecipher]

Scene, Part 2:

It all starts with a small box of chocolates.

Deidara doesn’t notice them at first. Not when he’s busy checking his wallet, making sure they have enough to cover the bill that’s coming. Yep, all good, he thinks, returning to his bowl of rice and eyeing the restaurant once more. They chose a seat in the back corner where it gives an ample view of the place, enough for any missing-nin to be comforted. It’s bustling, more people than the artist has seen in weeks of travel. 

He takes another bite, looks up again and repeats. The straw hat is pulled down low over his face. It does little to hide him, not when he’s wearing his cloak, it’s a dead give-away, especially since the Akatsuki’s started gaining real momentum recently. Even so, the restaurant is so busy that no one seems to take notice, though the few that sit nearby give him wary looks. Everyone else is in their own little worlds, coming and going. Not looking or considering a potential nin in their midst. It’s almost peaceful, a fact that both calms Deidara and makes his hands itch for clay. The mouths click their teeth in agitation and he forces his focus back on the food. 

Bowl now empty, Deidara sits back in the booth, arms crossing as he looks around. Where the hell was Tobi? That idiot had left for the bathroom half an hour ago now! He grinds his teeth casting a look at the half-full bowl across from him. Probably got side-tracked again, that dumbass. He may not abhor him as much as he once had but still, that man knew how to get under his skin with little effort (he can just imagine the future meet up with Kakuzu, telling him all about Tobi’s irritations and the older man would of course sigh before going on to explain Hidan’s newest annoyance which usually ended up being far worse and far more bloody than anything Tobi’s done or probably will do, ever. Deidara can’t picture the other ever killing for enjoyment, he hardly even fought anyways, only evaded.).

There is a brief flicker of worry. Of Tobi possibly coming across someone brave enough to get into an Akatsuki members face. They wouldn’t need too much bravery given Tobi’s natural aura of stupidity; everyone undesterimated his partner, Deidara included which he shouldn’t be, not with all the pieces he’s collected, the suspicians, and just how easy it is to forget and believe Tobi’s just an idiot and nothing else. Either way, there should be no cause for alarm. If Tobi can slip past every attack Deidara has ever thrown at him (and those attacks were mighty powerful, if Deidara said so himself) then he could certainly deal with almost anyone else outside the organization.

So he brushes the thoughts away and digs out the money. He’ll wait, for now, at least, he thinks placing the bills on the table and goes to put the wallet back into the pouch. Blue eyes widen a fraction. Huh? He turns, peering into the pouch. Past the kunai and scrolls, at the very bottom is a small square box. It’s a glossy black, managing to catch the swinging light over Deidara’s head. 

His eyes narrow instantly and he hovers a hand over the box. No chakra signature. No obvious threat . . . the artist considers it a moment before daring to grab and pull it out. 

Pouch and restaurant forgotten, Deidara balances his elbows on the table and runs his fingers over the box before his face. It’s no bigger than a dango box though much wider. A small symbol is etched on top that reads SWEET’S; he recognizes it, a candy store in town that they had passed on the way here. There is also a note taped to the bottom, so securely that, for a second, he thinks it’s just a sticker for the company or price. It’s not and when he realizes this, Deidara digs at the edges with a nail until he’s able to open it. An edge tears, whatever holding it on a bit too good at it’s job but finally, he can read it.

 - Hope you like it - is written in barely legiable scrawl that Deidara doesn’t recognize. His eyebrows raise and, cautious, he looks around the restaurant. No one is looking at him, even the wary ones are focused on their food. Who in their right mind would give him a gift? And someone who doesn’t put a name, not even an initial? Well, perhaps it was an admirer of my art, I must’ve made some impression, he smirks at the possibility, smug.

Still, it’s just one of those cheap boxes of chocolate you can get. The one with a mixture of sweets that are never just chocolate. They’re usually an arrange of flavours ranging from carmel to coconut. And Deidara’s sweet tooth is only for chocolate these days. So, he opens it, fully prepared to just toss the box-only to see another note inside, laying delicately over the six chocolates. 

- Bought five more to give you all the kinds you liked~ -

Deidara stares, not understanding at first. He looks between the paper to the chocolate below and, slowly, realizes that they all look the same. So they’re all-

Going rigid, the artist looks around the place again. More suspicious then ever, his chakra now a mass of pure unadulterated paranoia. The mouths on his hand click, grinding in his tensity. There is no feasable way that anyone could have snuck the box into his bag AND known his preferences of chocolate. Hell, Tobi didn’t even know! 

As if sensing his mood swing and thoughts on him, Deidara sees Tobi skip across the restaurant, waving at one group of people who flinch back at his cloak. “Senpaiiiii,” he whines, hopping into his chair with more energy then Deidara could ever have, “Sorry Tobi took so long!! There was such a lovely person outside the restrooms!”

“He didn’t try and kill you, hm?”

“Nope!” Tobi hums, dipping into thoughtfulness for a second. “Well, maybe? You always try to blow me up sooooo I’m not sure!”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes. At least you dealt with the situation without hassel,” he notes the lack of fear or chakra signatures, if Tobi’s not lying then he did deal with the problem without even raising an alarm. His stomach twists, always feeling off whenever Tobi proves that, yes, he is far more capable then anyone could dream of being. Not that Deidara would ever admit that. And he wasn’t stronger then Deidara! So there. “Anyway, you ever seen this before?” He gives the box a tiny shake, having closed it up again and shoved both notes into his pockets. 

Tobi’s head dips, the hole in his mask leveling with the box as he hmm’s in the back of his throat. A hand reaches out, sliding over the edge and brushing Deidara’s just enough for the blonde to notice before pulling back. The other’s head cocks to the side and, for the millionth time, Deidara wishes he could see the face beneath it. He’ll never understand the odd desire to keep it hidden, unless it’s all just to annoy me, his annoyance grows at the thought. “Well?? I swear Tobi, I’ll-!”

“Oh, Deidara senpai, calmmmmm, please? Deidara’s eye twitches at the demand Tobi's seen ‘em cause he bought ‘em!” The artist’s mouth drops open at the proud declaration. His partner leans back into the booth, almost casual looking as he crosses his arms behind his head. “Did you try any of ‘em?? The owner said they were the best they had!”

Deidara was still reeling, eyes wide as he stared at the other, “you bought them?”

“Uh-huh!”

The artist stares at his partner who’s practically vibrating in his chair, leg swinging like a five year old who has no control of their energy. But what else is new? “Care to explain why? I’ve never told you my favorite chocolate,” he huffs, agitated, crossing his own arms to mirror Tobi’s, “And while you’re at it, explain why you decided to get your buisness partner a . . . a,” he searches for the right word. 

“Present?”

“Yes. Why get me a present?”

“Cause Tobi loves you~” He coos happily, words dripping in glee and Deidara glares at the obvious jest. Still, his chest tightens a fraction. Seeing his partners look of disbelief, Tobi shakes his head, “it’s true! Beleive poor Tobi for once, senpai! And,” he releases his hands from behind his head and leans forward, into Deidara’s space, “you told Tobi whatcha’ liked!”

A single eyebrow rose, “when?”

“Two months ago!” The mask bobs, eager, hands now flat on the table, a little too close to the ones Deidara has laced together on his side. Truly, if he considered all options, it wasn’t impossible that he wouldn’t have told Tobi his preferences but it was one of millions of conversations they’ve had.

“. . . you remember a random conversation we had, two months ago, about that of all things?”

“Of course!”

“I didn’t think you listened to half the things I say.” 

The hands actually do reach his now, attaching onto Deidara’s and giving a firm squeeze as Tobi nods, enthusiastic. “Tobi’s always listening and he always remembers what Deidara senpai says!” He tilts his head, “I promise.” He says, voice lower, full of certainty, and, more importantly, the third person eerily gone. Deidara can’t help feeling uncomfortable at the intensity Tobi is giving him at the moment. The hold on his hands is tight and he can’t tell if it’s a subtle warning or meant to be comforting. Either way, it doesn’t help that he can feel Tobi’s chakra buzzing, it’s the usual thrum but . . . there’s something beneath it. Something darker. Something that brings back questions of why Tobi can dodge every attack, why he was picked last to join the Akatsuki although he’s been around them for much longer. They pull at Deidara’s mind, begging to be put together, to form the rest of the picture. To come to the conclusion that’s been nagging at him for months. 

He should look at them. It all points to something bigger, even without proper analysis. 

But he discards them. No. Tobi is just his idiot of a partner who is just really good at dodging everything, that’s all. Lies, he thinks and ignores.

“So you just ignore all the other advice I give you?”

“As usual!” Tobi exclaims, the smile so obvious in his tone. He senses the change in chakra instantly and stills before yanking his hands back into a shielding display, “wait! No, senpai Tobi meant no disrespect, simply that- please! Think of the restaurant!”

Needless to say, the restaurant almost became a smoking crater; and two weeks later Deidara finds a rose tucked in his pouch, another note stuck to it and he can’t help the smile he gets at his idiot trying so hard.

Part 1: 

 https://jinxofthecipher.tumblr.com/post/638984358996344832/headcanonscene-when-deidara-was-first-told-that