#they’re in army uniforms and just walking into walls

[plantsandpies]

I hope my teacher enjoys my work.

[brodygold]

The Golden Haunted House

Collaboration with my bro and our head recruiter @polo-drone-009. Thanks for the pics bro! Also yes this is like my fifth Halloween story I can't help it.

Cody and I had been best friends for years, and for almost as long, we’d been dating. We were two nerdy, scrawny guys who shared a love of video games, comic books, and the thrill of exploring every weird, haunted house attraction we could find each Halloween. This year, though, we’d heard rumors about a haunted house set up by a local soccer team, the Golden Army. The place had garnered a strange reputation, with people saying it wasn’t just any haunted house, but an “experience you’d never forget.”

Naturally, our curiosity got the better of us, and on Halloween night, we found ourselves at the entrance to the haunted house in our standard mummy costumes, staring up at a large, ominous banner that read “Golden Army Haunted House: Enter If You Dare.” Cody chuckled, nudging me in the ribs. “Guess these jocks are trying to get in on the spooky season. Should be fun, huh?”

I smirked, tugging my hoodie tighter around me. “Yeah, probably just a bunch of dumb jump scares. They probably spent more time on their uniforms than the actual setup.” Cody laughed, and we both shared a knowing grin. Jocks weren’t exactly our people, and the idea of a bunch of soccer players putting on a haunted house seemed almost comical.

But as soon as we stepped inside, that lightheartedness faded. The air was thick with a strange smell—a mix of sweat, leather, and something almost earthy, like the smell of grass after it rains. Dim lights illuminated a fog-covered floor, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and move. I felt a slight chill creep down my spine. There was something intense about the space, something… different.

Cody leaned close, squeezing my hand. “Guess they’re taking this more seriously than I thought,” he whispered, his voice tinged with nervous excitement.

We took a few steps forward, venturing deeper into the dimly lit corridor that seemed to stretch on endlessly. The shadows played tricks on our eyes, shifting and flickering. Then, out of nowhere, a figure burst from the darkness, lunging at us with a terrifying snarl. Cody and I both shrieked, clutching each other in surprise before dissolving into nervous laughter. Our reactions were way more intense than I’d expected.

But as the adrenaline rushed through me, I felt this weird, pulsing warmth spread across my chest. My laughter sounded different, almost… deeper. I shrugged it off, trying to brush away the lingering heat in my veins. Cody looked at me with a raised eyebrow, his own face flushed, but he seemed more amused than anything.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, smirking. “You sounded like a full-on dude-bro.”

I laughed, though the laugh rumbled deeper than I expected. “Hey, you did too, bro.” The word slipped out easily, like second nature. It felt strange, yet also oddly natural, and Cody didn’t seem to notice or mind. He just grinned and shrugged, looking almost proud in a way that felt… new.

We walked hand in hand into the next room, where mannequins lined the walls, each dressed in a golden soccer jersey. They were posed as if frozen in the middle of a game—muscular arms flexed, powerful legs braced for action. The figures looked so lifelike that I almost thought they were breathing. For a moment, I felt something in me stir, a strange sense of admiration and envy. These mannequins looked strong, confident—everything I wasn’t. Cody seemed just as transfixed, his gaze lingering on the broad shoulders and chiseled forms of the mannequins.

The silence was abruptly shattered by the blare of a whistle from above. Both Cody and I clapped our hands over our ears, groaning at the piercing sound. “Man, that’s intense,” Cody muttered, his voice sounding… different. Lower, more solid. I glanced over, my eyes widening slightly as I noticed his jawline looked more defined, his cheekbones sharper in the dim light. It was as if his face had taken on a rugged, more mature edge.

“Did you… did you do something with your hair?” I asked, half-joking, though a small part of me wondered if I was actually seeing things. He just chuckled, brushing off the comment, but I noticed him roll his shoulders back, as if feeling the weight of his own frame differently.

Moving into the next room, I felt my own body tingle, a subtle hum of energy that made me feel… stronger? The dim, eerie lighting made it hard to tell for sure, but I could swear my own shoulders looked broader, my chest more solid. I took a deep breath, feeling my shirt stretch slightly across my pecs in a way that it hadn’t before. A flicker of excitement bubbled up in me, unexpected but welcome.

“Come on, man,” I heard myself say, my voice carrying a hint of confidence, maybe even cockiness. “Let’s keep going. This place is kinda awesome.” I felt a strange sense of pride just being here, like I belonged in this place. Cody nodded, and for a moment, he looked at me with something like admiration in his eyes. It felt… good. Like we were equals in some unspoken way.

The next room was pitch black, except for a spotlight illuminating a pair of cleats on a pedestal. Voices whispered all around us, chanting “Golden Army… Golden Army…” over and over, echoing in my mind. The words seemed to sink into me, filling me with a strange warmth and pride. I wanted to be a part of this, to belong to something powerful and unbreakable.

The chant grew louder, and I felt the muscles in my body tensing, like they were coming alive. Cody grabbed my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and I could feel the strength in his grip—a grip that felt more solid than it had before. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, it was like we were connected on a deeper level, bound by something unspoken.

“Golden Army…” he murmured, almost as if the words were a prayer, a mantra we’d both known all our lives. It made sense. We’d always been part of this, hadn’t we?

By the time we moved to the next room, we both felt different—stronger, bolder. A large mirror covered one of the walls, and I caught my reflection. My shoulders were broader, my shirt tight against my chest, showing off a physique I knew I hadn’t had when I walked in. My arms were thicker, veins standing out faintly beneath the skin. I glanced over at Cody, who seemed equally transformed. His posture had changed—more confident, almost cocky, and his arms looked… huge.

“Whoa,” I said, though the sight didn’t alarm me. It felt… right, natural. I flexed my arm, watching the way the muscle moved under my shirt. Cody did the same, his eyes lighting up with pride. We looked at each other, sharing a grin that held more than a hint of competitive energy. “Looking good, bro,” he said, punching my arm playfully.

“You too, man,” I replied, my voice carrying that same pride. It was strange, but it felt like I’d known this version of Cody forever. Like we’d been teammates, brothers on the field, for as long as I could remember.

The next room was a replica of a locker room, complete with golden jerseys hanging neatly in open lockers. Each jersey bore a different name, but I felt drawn to a specific one, like it was calling me. The name on it read “Jake.” Cody seemed to gravitate toward a different locker, his fingers brushing over a jersey labeled “Dan.” We exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between us. Without hesitation, I pulled the jersey off the hanger and slipped it on. It fit perfectly, hugging my chest and shoulders like it was made just for me. Cody did the same, pulling his jersey over his head and smoothing it down over his muscled torso.

For a moment, we just stood there, taking each other in. We looked like different people—no, like the same people we’d always been, just… more complete. More right. The jerseys felt like they belonged on us, like we’d been wearing them forever.

Suddenly, a towering figure in a golden jersey stormed into the room, barking orders at us like a drill sergeant. “You boys think you’re Golden Army material?” he growled, his eyes intense and challenging.

“Yes, sir!” Cody and I shouted in unison, our voices filled with pride. We didn’t even think about it—the words came naturally, with conviction. We felt honored to be here, like we’d earned our place. I glanced over at Cody, no longer thinking of him as my boyfriend but as Dan, my teammate, my brother on the field. And I knew, deep down, he felt the same about me.

We marched into the final room together, feeling powerful, unstoppable. Every step was steady and assured, each movement purposeful. I glanced down at my arms, now sculpted and muscular, veins prominent under the skin. Cody looked just as transformed, his once-slight frame now radiating strength and confidence. We weren’t the nerdy couple who’d walked in just an hour ago; we were Jake and Dan, proud members of the Golden Army, ready to crush it on the field.

As we left the haunted house, the cold night air hit us, but it didn’t faze us. Our only thought was that we were here, together, as teammates, as brothers. The last remnants of our old selves faded, leaving only pride, loyalty, and an unbreakable bond. All that mattered now was the team, the game, and each other.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Winnix Monday contribution. A drabble based off these two photos and a continuation of last week's piece because I believe this was taken at the same time as that photo considering what they are wearing (Dick- smile reserved for Nix and coveralls, and Nix shoulder patch) and the building in the background.

drabble under the cut

“What do you mean I come across as aggressive?”  Nix asked as he tried to get away from the regimental photographer before he could snap another picture.  He smirked, knowing he said that with the exact same attitude Dick was referring to.

“Well, I know you, but the other guys…”  Dick looked over his shoulder as Al Krocha snapped some pictures of the men.   Nix walking away made him realize how much he really wanted a picture of him.   “Hey, Nix.   Stop walking so fast, don’t you want a photo to send home to your folks?”

Nix laughed.  “I have successfully avoided all but a mandatory company photo for the wall in my Dad’s office.   None at Yale.  None in the paper since that one in Central Park as a kid.   Even forced my Mom to have an artist sketch me because I didn’t want my photo taken.  Skipped the wedding picture too, straight to the courthouse, no cameras. So no, I don't need a picture of me in uniform for Mom to bemoan how the shirt should be tailored and Dad to put in the Home News for good PR.”

“What about one for me?”  Dick asked and it sounded so…well, bad enough it stopped Nix in his tracks and made him turn and raise his eyebrows.  A playful smirk came over Lew's lips and only made Dick want to start whispering because this felt...electric again. It reminded him of the feeling he'd get when he was painting telephone poles-- the height danger ignored to get the job done, but you could never ignore the hum and crackle of energy above your head as it traveled through the lines. Nix was the power line when he was like this and he had to remind himself of discipline once more.; this energy was dangerous.

“Why, I do declare, Mr. Winters, are you trying to get a photo for your nightstand?  What about your girl?”

Dick felt his cheeks flush a little and hoped Nix just thought it was because he mentioned DeEtta.   DeEtta who was planning a trip to Lancaster to visit his parents without him because he was here…at OCS.   He glanced over at Krocha making the rounds, trying to avoid eye contact with Nix.  He heard the click of the camera, saw the flash, tried to regain focus.

Discipline.   You have to let this go, Dick.   You get a photo and what will you do with it?  Let it erode any semblance of strength you have?

“You’re one of the best friends I have ever had.   I want a picture, Lew.”  Dick said and finally looked back at him and saw that something in his eye again.   Lewis Nixon was too damned smart and too in tune with him to not know this was more than a simple request.   “Proof you existed.  When I tell stories about you, nobody is going to believe I knew you.”

Nix hummed, glanced at the photographer getting closer, then back at Dick.   “What kind of stories are you planning to tell?”

“Stories about the most brilliant gentleman I ever met who didn’t need to be here.  Who could have used his name and influence to be anywhere but in the army.   A good man who became a good friend, who helped me study tactics and hid his Vat 69 in my foot locker.”

“Flatterer.”  Nix said and rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  One picture.  Only if you explain why you think my aggressive tone scares off those guys when I’m being passionate about this project.”

“It’s because you’re from New Jersey.”  Dick answered and looked over at the other officer candidates smiling and taking pictures with each other.  “And you think they’re idiots.”

“It’s because they are fucking idiots.   Fine.  One picture.”  Nix said and Dick’s face lit up.    He was still staring at him when Krocha came by and snapped his photo of Dick smiling at him.   He turned just in time to stand there looking like a petulant child who didn’t want his picture taken by his Mother while they were at a social function or visiting France–schoolbooks and all. 

[loveabledirtbag]

2.02 - pasta

there’s something about opening on a black screen with a catchy, familiar song that just makes me into what i’m watching. i don’t know what it is about that particular edit, i fully recognize it about myself, and i don’t even strongly like the song “she drives me crazy” by fine young cannibals. BUT black screen, song comes on, quick cut to an arial shot of chicago in winter and it’s just got me going, “hell ya. let’s go.”

i liked the quick cut of a printed sign on the bear’s wall as they’re making plans, crossing off things they’re accomplishing and working on renovating the space for their grand opening, but there’s just a little printed sign that says “bear part two”, which is funny. because this is the bear, season two. but it’s also the first iteration of the bear, which makes the “in world” meaning of “the bear part two” kinda odd.

i love the familiarity between carmy and syd. it’s only on this, my 90th rewatch that i realize this is really the first time we see them sort of acting like friends and partners, more than work colleagues, and especially boss and employee. all last season they had friendly moments, but there was always an edge of: carmy is the boss, and syd is the employee. and no matter how friendly they were, and they were pretty nice and friendly, the two did an excellent job of having an element of feeling like they worked together. like if one of them were to introduce the other to a friend or family they would say: “oh, we work together”. even in the first episode of season two, they’re still friendly, and the power dynamic has shifted nicely since season one because they’re partners now, but they still have this air of “work friends”. but right away in episode two carmy and syd are walking through the shop talking about how syd’s dad is sem-supportive but doesn’t understand syd, and i’m only just realizing that it’s the first time they’ve really talked about personal things with each other non-chalantly. this is the first time in the show we’ve ever seen them be “friend friends” not work-friends…and yet, it’s so natural and easy i didn’t even realize the shift had happened until just now.

in one second we received; the first mention of syd’s mom. that she and her dad are going to her mom’s birthday dinner. AND, the fridge guy is on the phone, but because marcus threw the phone without anyone ready, it shattered on the ground. carmy will call the fridge guy back….right….?

i hate that the moment nat comes into the scene casually eating food while walking, my brain (which is so accustomed to stereotypes in media) said “oh! she’s pregnant!” and not “oh! she’s working hard and doing most of the detail work for the restaurant, so she’s eating on the go!” but, media tropes being what they are, my mind went to: PREGNANT

“you feeling okay, nat? you look a little pale”, “yeah. it’s just that sometimes i look like february.”, “….sure…” 1) amazing line. truly fantastic. 2) come on. nat’s pregnant.

fak and natalie’s “mom & son” relationship is so weird and i love it. “yes, my honey?” who actually says thay to another adult in a non-actually being someone’s mom, or a “non-bdsm” capacity? apparently nat.

“you alright? you want a sprite? you look kinda green.” 1) this line that richie says to nat will come back to be important in a few episodes. 2) this is the second time in like a minute that someone’s commented on nat’s appearance and her not looking great. so, she’s definitely pregnant. like, they’re not even trying to hide it, as they hide it.

ebra’s hesitation about going to culinary school BREAKS MY HEART. ugh. i love ebra. sad ebra makes me sad. “i don’t want to wear a uniform” and tina’s immediate “it’s not that kind of uniform.” implying he was thinking of his time in the army in samalia….UGH, EBRA!

however, excited tina, giddy at the thought of culinary school, is such a vibe.

fridge guy debacle continues: carmy calling the fridge guy, but getting interrupted as richie, fak, and marcus are trying (and failing) to move the lockers out of the space right outside his door.

also, (because of stereotypes in media) when carmy gives his number to the fridge guy, my first thought was “…so that’s gonna come up later.” because it’s easy to have written this scene without the phone number. sometimes a scene requires a number to be given and that’s that. but in this scene, it easily could have been different. so when carmy gives it, i knew we’d hear his number again. especially with how easy the number is to remember. (the classic 5-5-5 in the number. that happens in tv shows so often. someone has 5-5-5 in their phone number)

ok….so….again, i’ve watched this season like 100 times, and i think, I THINK, i understand why they have to open mikey’s locker to move it out? because it’s always confused me. the guys are struggling to open the locker, and they realize they have to open mikey’s locker which has been locked since his death. it’s a nice scene, and shows everyone’s acceptance and growth in the time since mikey has died. especially as richie puts a hand on carmy’s shoulder as carmy takes a moment right before he opens the locker. the tenderness and love between these two since season one is just incredible. but my thought was the stuff in the locker was too heavy making it harder to move? but the only thing in the locker is a hat from an event they worked in 2010. so, i’ve always been confused. the hat couldn’t weigh enough to make them not able to handle the lockers. i thought it was a clumsy way to get us to the emotional moment of finding the hat. BUT now i’m realizing that i think fak needed the locker open so he could get a better grip on his side of the locker and maneuver it easier? is that right? does anyone else actually know?

so syd and carmy go to carmy’s apartment. and in repeated viewings i’ve realized that it IS the same apartment from season one. we’re just getting better shots of it. and now i realize that his apartment is A DREAM! i mean, his kitchen is great, but the rest of his apartment is really nice. i’m legitimately jealous. they did a really nice job in season one (whether intentionally or not) making it look kinda like a shitty apartment. but there’s enough things i recognize in shots of his apartment in season two, that it’s definitely the same apartment.

the way carmy and syd avoid saying “michelin” in conversation, so that the show doesn’t have to pay for the copyright, is just fun. but i also love the two sides of the michelin chef spectrum. carmy who has experienced the shit you have to deal with of having them, and syd who is fresh and wants the recognition that comes with having one. in the light of how many restaurants and chefs are abandoning the michelin system, or are returning their stars, i think it’s a fascinating subtle storyline woven in this season. i’d love to see if it carries on into season three. knowing that it costs so much money to have a michelin star and that only one star has to do with the food.

“i will grant you [mold] has gained some traction in recent media cycles. it’s a buzzword, yeah, for sure.” what an iconic line from richie. as someone who has always been scared of mold….how is mold a recent buzzword? richie is unhinged and i love it.

once again, fak and richie getting their faces closer as richie dares fak to call mom (nat), and fak says he will, and they go back and forth just getting closer…..it has a weird sexual energy with it. i didn’t start this show shipping fak and richie, but i think they’d be cute together…

the scenes of ebra struggling at culinary school honestly break my heart. and tina encouraging ebra in his skills and him shakily saying “yes chef”….😭😭😭

i think it’s interesting that there’s a season long arch where just about everything syd cooks and makes tastes terrible. i think watching the show all at once makes the problem seem bigger than it was meant to be (at least to me), because we’ve been told how good of a chef she is, but we see her cook HER OWN creations and they all suck. it made me wonder how good she really was. which is maybe some of the point, but i think it’s showing that syd is still a chef that’s up and coming and learning. like carmy said last season, she’s very green. carmy is a chef with no end of awards and recognition, but we see him struggle with details and management. syd is inventive and quick on her feet, but we see that when she’s coming up with a recipe she fails a lot first. i think it’s meant to humanize her, or it’s a season arch to show her growth as the season continues.

the weird….dynamic of carmy thinking syd’s mom is alive (because she said “it’s my moms birthday dinner” and has never said “she died” or anything, so it’s an earnest and easy mistake). but when carmy asks her about her mom she just kinda….lies…?

i love the detail of signing “sorry” when something happens to just say “hey, let’s move on. this isn’t a big deal, and i’m sorry” is amazing. i’ve had little codes like that in service industry in the past.

nat’s lil’ monologue while sitting next to the messed up toilet while she’s on the phone with the plumber is great. and i love that she reveals that she’s pregnant (which again, easy to guess), but mostly i love that we’re not fulllllly sure if the plumber is a family friend, or a complete stranger. there’s SOME familiarity here obviously, but we’re not told if it’s enough familiarity for nat’s emotional word vomit or not. and that’s beautiful to me.

the pure comedic GOLD of “these ceilings are practically styrofoam, were we to have mold they would collapse when i go like this-“ hits ceiling. ceiling immediately collapses and proceeds to dump a pound of dirt, dust, and mold onto richie’s face. and then a kickball. and then richie looks up and goes “that’s it?” and a firefighter hat falls and hits his head. ugh. i can’t help but burst out laughing.

the reveal that syd’s mom is dead is so well done. the happy story, the smiles, and then lighting a candle on cake and them blowing it out while holding hands. the realization that what we, the audience, assumed was going to be a tense, awkward meal between two parents who had divorced but still got together to celebrate the moms birthday (for some reason), or maybe even the amicable celebration of a couple that divorced because they realized they weren’t good for each other and are “friendly” with each other. but instead it’s two people very much in love with a woman who has clearly died. ugh. it’s beautiful, it’s funny, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s SUCH a simple and quick scene.

AND THEN, we move onto this scene at the grocery store. ok. here’s the thing. claire gets a LOT OF SHIT from people. a lot. and some of its fair and some of its not. SO. i’m gonna put my thoughts in their entirety HERE about her, and then when those instances come up in later episodes i might talk about them more in depth.

so, firstly, for the people who loved that the bear was a “sexless” show in season one, or that carmy seemed to be ace, or are carmy and syd shippers, or even those who claimed he was queer coded, there’s not much i can say to make you feel better. other than to say that the balance of work life and personal life is a super important one, especially in a show about a guy who has no personal life so that excel at his work life and has become burnt out by that process. so a romance or a deep relationship of some kind was a good choice for the show, because it brought about a storyline that i think is needed on carmy’s mental, and emotional health journey.

BUT the show trying to deepen that relationship with claire does so by simply “saying” it, and not showing it. which is the eternal issue with writers, especially when you have time, money, budget, and length of movie/tv series to deal with. but in a ten episode season, and this is already the end of the first episode when you introduce her, so you really only get to know her in episode three. that really only gives 8 episodes to know claire. and she’s not in like…3 or 4 of the episodes moving forward. meaning you have to: set up their history, set up how important she is, AND deepen their relationship to a place where we, the audience, are emotionally invested in them, AND when it hurts when they ultimately break up. but with only 4 or 5 episodes to do that, we can’t SEE it happen, we have to be TOLD it happens.

so we are told that carmy had a crush on her, to the point that he would draw her in his notebooks and his whole family knew he liked her, because mikey, richie and…john mulaney…tease him for it in the flashback episode. we are told how much claire likes carmy. we’re mostly told how good their relationship is, instead of seeing how good it is (carmy shows up to the restaurant a few times and says “i was talking with claire when….). we’re also told how close claire was to the fak’s and to richie (claire calls fak to get carmy’s number. she calls richie cousin (the only other person to do that other than mikey and carmy). there’s a lot of their relationship we don’t get to see, and it makes some sense because those scenes would be slower, deeper, and take time. and you only have 30 minutes and 4 or 5 episodes to accomplish this.

which makes the sort of hypocrisies in their relationship just not believable. carmy was obsessed with claire growing up, but when they meet he gives her a fake number so she can’t call him, because he knows she’s looking to date him after they run into each other. and he’s a little slow to open up to her, but finally does and she helps him a lot in his mental health and panic attacks. and on claire’s side, she gets labeled a manic pixie dream girl, which isn’t necessarily unfair, but her less than realized character (her main defining character trait is: i like carmy) is only because we don’t get to see much of her, and she was brought in to be a love interest to carmy. so she’s not fully realized, and her only real trait is liking carmy. plus, carmy is so aloof, and closed off that from a writing standpoint we needed claire to have this manic pixie love and attraction in pursuing carmy, because that was the only way they were going to get together. carmy would never have pursued claire, because he sacrifices his own enjoyment and personal life for cooking. but it doesn’t make sense then, that claire has kind of an obsessive love for carmy from the moment she sees him at the grocery store, and she admits that she liked him in high school, but she never made a move and he didn’t even really know she knew who he was.

these sort of conflicting narratives: carmy is in love with claire, but gives her a fake number when they run into each other as adults (he even forgets her name when we’re introduced); claire is in love with carmy from the beginning of them running into each other as adults (which would hint that she was in love with him when they were young) but never paid him any attention when they were young, BUT was so close to them that she remembered the name of their planned restaurant all these years later…they all could have been made possible and been written in a way that was believable. but not with the time constraints the show had and the other storylines the show focused on. so we are simply told a lot of this, not shown a lot of this. it maybe could have worked if they built claire and carmy’s relationship up this season; a sort of will-they-won’t-they, and then once carmy is sold on the relationship, build that up in season three, for the big collapse at the end of season three. but that would have ruined the season long arch and left carmy without a deep, traumatic emotional arch and more of a rom-com, fluffy arch this season and that’s not really the show’s style.

so, i don’t hate claire. i think she, as a character, wasn’t given the time to breathe and grow and show the audience why we should care about her. i would love if they brought her back for season three, to see her grow and get fleshed out as her own character, especially as a character outside of her love for carmy. but since she broke up with carmy, i don’t see much of a road into the show moving on and it would also make a lot of sense if we never really see her again. even despite her “close” relationship to the fak’s and to richie.

as someone who has had to have the conversation with my parents about my weird working situations, like being paid for a month, but then not being paid for six months even though i’m going to work and working 12 or more hours because i’m starting something…uff, i feel syd’s frustration as she tries to explain it to her dad. and the fact that the budget is paying everyone in the shop except carm, nat, and syd (the bosses) is so fucking good. because that’s how it fucking should be. you pay the people who need it, because you need them to be there when you get back. it’s how you keep workers, especially good ones. bosses and leaders of businesses need to actually sacrifice for the shop and for their workers if they want it to work. plain and simple.

but, we see some of that writing magic i was talking about earlier when carmy gives her a fake number. he told the fridge guy his number earlier, and then he gives claire a different number. we know that he wouldn’t give fridge guy a fake number. so we realize he’s giving claire the fake. that’s why we saw him give the fridge guy his number.

AND that’s the episode! episode two down! it’s a great episode. and it sets up a LOT for the rest of season two. looking forward to episode three!

SEASON ONE: Episode One | Episode Two | Episode Three | Episode Four | Episode Five | Episode Six | Episode Seven | Episode Eight

SEASON TWO: Episode One | Episode Two | Episode Three | Episode Four | Episode Five | Episode Six | Episode Seven | Episode Eight | Episode Nine | Episode Ten

[creepy-crowleys]

((Probably going with Demolisher for Crowley's class. Which is... actually the one I think I started her on. The in-game classes don't do much beyond determining your starting weapons - and you can switch from them pretty much once you've finished the tutorial - but I think it works for her. :d))

Demolisher

Responding to cries for help from the alley behind the convenience store, the schoolgirl slips off her uniform jacket, folds it, and stuffs it into her backpack. There will be blood—lots of blood—and she does not want it stained. She slides a ball-peen hammer out as she puts the jacket away and goes off to crack some skulls. The swordsman pivots, opening his soul to Gaia’s will as he slices upward at the looming ak’ab. His blade meets the insect’s carapace with a crack of thunder, nearly deafening the swordsman even as it hurls the ak’ab upward to splatter against the limestone walls of the tomb. She moves faster than the strike team expected. The Orochi sergeant in charge gasps as the old woman they’ve been sent to liquidate instead cuts down two of his men in a single slice. She seems to shrug off bullets and tasers, laughing as she crashes through them. She toys with them—holding back the fire and lightning that course through her—just to enjoy the thrill of battle again. The zombie crouches over its kill, ripping oversized handfuls of steaming-hot flesh from the first hiker’s body. Long has it roamed these backwater hills, growing in might and size as it devoured man and beast alike. It doesn’t even notice the lithe young man in the rainbow shirt until the youth knocks its head clean off with one swing of his blazing golf club. Demolishers channel divinity through implements of war, imbuing their weapons with heavenly radiance and striking like the thunderbolt of Zeus.

Like a Wrecking Ball

Demolishers burn with an inner fire. This wellspring of power is the blessing of Gaia at its simplest and most primal, like a primitive hominid cracking skulls with a jawbone. They smash things and they smash them good. More than any other, the demolisher class includes Bees from all walks of life: athletes, doctors, homemakers, mechanics, musicians, soldiers, students, and more. It is not physical strength that marks a demolisher, nor is there any special training one needs to take a stick and hit things with it. There is only the accursed gift of Gaia. Demolishers may be blunt instruments, but that does not make them incapable of finesse. Besides channeling anima into explosive melee attacks, they also have a natural capacity for protective magics. They can learn to see the invisible, make their skin hard as steel, and surround themselves with mystical barriers. If they live long enough, demolishers can learn to be as adept and subtle as any assassin or punisher.

Property Damage and Noise

Demolishers fight in the front line, leading charges and taking on whole armies by themselves. They’re loud and destructive, and they’re often sent into the field to act as diversions for more discreet operatives. Sometimes, though, the best defense is a good offense … and nothing says “offense” like a one-person wrecking crew.

Where They Fit in the Secret World

... In the Secret World, demolishers could be anyone from anywhere. They manifest their power as walking siege engines, channeling anima to wreak destruction in the most direct way available to any class. ...

Why the Secret Societies Want to Recruit Them

Secret society leaders aren’t immune to the raw, charismatic power of demolishers. Every society wants to find its own modern Hercules, someone who can trade blow for blow with oni and giants. Demolishers often serve an almost symbolic role within societies, representing the epitome of Gaia’s might—and that of the faction for which they work. In the field, demolishers provide excellent support for … squishier … team members. A demolisher in full tactical gear with a breaching maul is a better bullet stopper than a reinforced concrete wall, and much better prepared to smash a draug in the face. Play a demolisher for a simple but effective gameplay loop. Choose this class if you want power by way of channeling tremendous and explosive energy into melee weapons. There’s nothing subtle here.

[marveldcmistress]

A little Sy x Reader Blurb

You come out of the kitchen, the swinging doors banging against the wall. You walk to the end opening of the bar, glaring at the uniformed men wreaking havoc on your well liquors. It’s only after you let out growl from your chest do they stop to look at you.

“Get out from behind my fucking bar.”

Most of the men scrambled to get back to their stools, except for Johnson, who just held the bottle of whiskey closer and smiled at you.

“Oh come on, darlin. We’re just having some fun.”  

“Your fun is cut off. Get the fuck out from behind my bar before I make you.” your tone is deadly now.

“Ooooo getting kinky now. Please, make me.”  

“JOHNSON!”  

If you wouldn’t have felt him come up behind you, you would have jumped at Sy’s voice. The officer in front of you slowly puts the bottle down and slinks back to his seat. You were used to drunk, rowdy men. But soldiers were another breed entirely. You turn to Sy, face dead s erious.  

“Captain. I suggest you keep your dogs on a tighter leash.”  

“Oh we’re dogs alright, sweetheart!” You hear Johnson say before him and the rest of the crew start barking like animals.  

“Johnson! I will take disciplinary action!” Sy barks.  

“Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain”  

“Next time I’ll make sure they’re on their best behavior, ma’am.” Sy says, beautiful blue eyes boring into yours. If you were in a better mood, you might have swooned. But you were pissed, tired, and sick of seeing the army camo in your bar. Four weeks was more than enough of dealing with the military.  

“You better. And don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old.” you grumble.

“Just trying to be respectful, ma’am.” he says. You narrow your eyes and tilt your head, trying your best to look intimidating to this giant of a man.  

“Sorry,” he smiles.  

“Bar’s closed. Pay out your tabs and get the fuck out.” you say, turning to the computer and get their tickets, leaving Johnson for last. Sy watches from his spot at the end of the bar, making sure each one of his crew tip you well for the shit they caused you tonight.  

“You know, if you ever wanna make me do something darlin, I only live five minutes away,” Johnson says, winking at you as he hands you some cash.

“Not a chance in hell, fuck face. And just for that I’m charging you an extra $20.” you stick your hand, snatching the bill away from him as he hands it to you. You turn away from the pouting private, walking over to Sy and filling his whiskey. You ignore the silent chuffing from Johnson about giving special treatment and get to work on shutting down for the night.  

[annaphoenix1994]

Perfect Mouth

Masterlist:

Not only does Simon love the words that come out of your mouth, he loves what you can do with it.

“Bloody fucking hell. That mouth is perfect.”

Tags: Smut/Blowjob/Riding/Marking Each Other/Spanking

Possible TW’s: Brief use of morbid and cruel jokes between Simon and Soap.

You and Simon had been sneaking around to be with each other during the downtime of your deployment. Most cases of sex having to be rushed and quiet as you both were on strict time schedules.

“You look lonely. I can fix that.” You whispered in a teasing tone as your hands swiped over his shoulders.

“Now’s your chance to prove it.” He growled, his tone muffled by the balaclava.

His gaze was sharp and primal. He wanted to tear you apart for teasing him during the convoy on the way to a new base. You would purposely graze your fingers over the inside of his thigh while he would sneak a grasp at your ass. There was no stopping the constant foreplay between you two.

Even when you took your shower, you purposely walked by the open door of his room clutching your shirt over your breasts instead of putting it on, knowing he would look your way and get jealous of the thought of possibly someone else seeing you.

He had just gotten out of the shower and changed into a clean uniform before going out on guard duty for the night.

Perfect.

Waiting until after midnight, you snuck out of the barracks and to where he was on duty. It was a small hunting-blind-type shelter, which was hard to see in the daylight, let alone the dark. Even though you knew where it was, it was still hard for you to see.

Once finding the entry, you walked in to see him sitting on point with his back turned to you as he acknowledged your presence. You both knew what was going to happen tonight. The sexual tension between the pair of you was enough for your peers to notice.

You felt his breathing shudder as you touched his shoulder. You smelled the muffled scent of his deodorant (he wears Axe chocolate - you can’t change my mind) as you leant over his shoulder, you chuckled as he had been bickering back and forth with Soap who was also on guard duty on the opposite end of the base. “Oy, two goldfish were in a tank. One turns to the other and says: do you know how to drive this thing? Little Army humor.”

“Very funny,” Soap snickered. “Why don’t shrimp share?”

“Why?”

“Because they’re shellfish.”

“Good one.”

“I got another one for ya.”

“Go.”

“What do you call Iranian popcorn?”

“What?”

“A terrorist.”

Ghost breathed a chuckle, “That’s fucked up.”

“You need some company?” You asked him in a whisper.

“I’ll never deny your company, sweetheart.”

You had other thoughts on your mind, the sexual tension between the two of you rising since you entered the blind.

He sat with his legs apart, comfortable.

“What kind of company would you want?” You asked in a teasing tone.

“I’m fine with whatever you offer.”

You bit your bottom lip before standing in front of him, watching his dominant gaze look over your features. He didn’t eye your body like you expected - he never did. Not that you weren’t attractive to him, you were, but he favored looking into your eyes more. He could tell your exact emotions through your eyes - something that he knew not many men looked at when looking at their partner. “You look lonely. I can fix that.”

“Now’s your chance to prove it.” He growled, his voice muffled by his balaclava.

Seeing the spark of arousal in your eyes, he watched you straddle his lap, setting his rifle aside to lean up against the wall as his hands went straight to your waist. He couldn’t help the blood that rushed to his groin. You couldn’t help but grind into him as your hands rushed to the bottom of his balaclava. You hesitated for a moment, expecting him to stop you, but he didn’t. You rolled his balaclava to where it exposed his lips, capturing them with your own, your nostrils filling with the smell of his aftershave.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you closer to him, irritated because of the tactical vest strapped to his chest. You felt his erection pressing into your thigh, giggling into his mouth before moving to your knees between his thighs and moving your hands to where they rested at his belt. “Fucking hell.” You heard him grumble.

You hummed, removing his length from the confines of his boxers. He was staring down at you, breathing heavily as you took him into his mouth. You took him into your hot mouth inch by inch until you physically couldn’t take him completely. You splayed your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before sucking a bit harder once at the tip of his aching length, a satisfying pop! leaving your lips. You held eye contact with him as you did so before going back down on him again.

“Bloody fucking hell,” He groaned. “That mouth is perfect.”

His hands found their way to your hair, messing up your bun to his own pleasure. He couldn’t help but buck up into your mouth, the heat and moisture driving him crazy. You had been giving him the perfect mixture of sloppy and sensual work with your mouth, feeling the familiar heat between your legs pulsing with excitement and clenching over nothing.

You then stood to your feet, his gaze fixating to your stomach as you loosened your belt. The sexual tension between you two was almost too much as the both of you seemed to want to rush to lovemaking. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll cut them off of you.” He groaned playfully. You smirked, removing your boots before the pants followed, purposely keeping your underwear on to tease him.

You straddled him, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against your covered core. He breathed heavily with irritation as he had another problem keeping him from penetrating you. With no hesitation, he eased you back on his lap, you watched as he cut the underwear from your hips. “I told you - don’t tease me.” He graveled as he tossed the underwear to the side before easing you back to where you were lined up with him.

His hands held your hips as he helped guide you onto his length, not once forcing you on him as you slowly took his length. You moaned, gripping his shoulders as you couldn’t help but clamp around him. A guttural hiss came from his lips as he looked to where you both were joined. He was pleased with how you stretched to accommodate his size.

You rolled your hips on him, begging for friction against your clit as the way he was sitting was the perfect position to rub your pelvis on his, although the gear he had around his waist was making it harder for you, but you weren't giving up on achieving your orgasm. He felt too good to care about taking his gear off. "Not yet," He panted, holding your hips close to his, keeping you from continuing your rhythmic pace. "Don't go too fast. I want to savor you."

You groaned at his words, rewarding him with another kiss.

He ignored Soap's eager tone to tell another joke through his comm, knowing he would probably cuss him out if he were to reply right now. You let him control your pace as he enjoyed the warm feel of you enveloped around him. Fucking hell.

A thin layer of sweat beaded on your forehead as you were begging to orgasm at this point, but he felt like he was just getting started. His orgasm was on the horizon, but he loved when he reached his orgasm at the same time you did.

"Come for me, baby." You whispered into his ear, moaning at the sudden grasp of your buttocks by his strong hands.

He groaned, moving your hips faster as the sudden friction of his pants against your clit had your orgasm coming at a rapid pace. He felt you clench around him before you could even hum the beautiful song of your sweet release before he released his spend the same time you did, slowing your hips down to savor every last drop.

You slumped on him, the pair of you panting as you peppered kisses along his neck. You could still feel him pulsating inside of you, but you didn't care to even move. "I'm going to volunteer to go on guard duty more often." He sighed.

"And let me guess, I'm volun-told?" You bit your lip with excitement.

"You've never been more right, sweetheart."

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Ares

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares

Lucifer

He cannot overstate what kind of damage this mortal was able to do in their first few seconds in the Devildom...

The instant they got to their feet, they had managed to incapacitate Satan and knock down Beel. Lucifer himself tried to get between them and Diavolo but…

If he hadn’t moved his head, if he was standing just ONE INCH to the left… he wouldn’t have a head anymore. Barbatos was there to intervene, but had he not they could have probably taken out the Avatar of Pride and done critical damage to the Demon Prince himself in one strike...

Frankly, Lucifer prefers not to dwell on that moment... He's sure Ares must be proud of this one...

He pretty much treats the mortal like a live bomb afterward, if he can get away with not interacting with them at all, that’s what he’ll do.

He’s NOT scared of them... much... It’s just that they have a bullish and uncooperative attitude at best and since they know they can take any of them, they don't even consider him - Lucifer, the eldest demon brother - a threat...

But you know what the most frustrating thing is? They won't give him an inch of respect, but they'll always listen to Levi! Levi!!

Look, Lucifer knows he may not hold a rank among the Hell's army and he might not have been a major player in the Celestial/Demonic wars of the day, but he's still the strongest demons here, dammit!! 😡

Lucifer finds nothing is more embarrassing than having to ask Levi of all people to keep the mortal in line because he can't... Oh, the humiliation… He hopes they leave soon...

Mammon

At first, he thought they were scary. But in time he thought they were scary… and also pretty damn awkward.

Mammon wasn’t there when they more or less wiped out the majority of his brothers in the Conference Hall but when he finally showed up he'd never seen Lucifer look so pale… If THAT doesn't make you shit your pants, he doesn't know what will.

Naturally, he kind of toned it down on the "stupid human" stuff real quick after seeing that…

But here's the thing. After the two made a pact together, Mammon started to notice that the MC wasn't all that mean, they were just… violent?

He legitimately thought that they couldn’t stand him for a while until one day a guy on the street called him a dirtbag. The MC threw a punch right there! No questions asked, they just decked that guy!!

It was kind of touching… and messy. Very messy. Did he mention that they’re terrifying yet? 😥

As it turns out, the MC has apparently spent a lot of their life just fighting things and being asked to fight things so they're not very used to showing non-violent affection… 

It took him awhile, but he realized that their way of saying, "I like you," is, "I will attack your enemies." So now all he does when his brothers tease him is say, "I'm telling MC!'' and they'll stop immediately. It's great!! 😁

Considers them to be his bodyguard when he goes out to gamble in some… shadier places. Most of the time not even the bouncers want to take on the MC, ain't nobody getting paid enough to lose that many teeth…

Leviathan

Okay, so. It's not very obvious anymore, but he USED to be on the front lines of the war against demons in the Celestial Realm. He was in charge of battle strategies, he led armies, and even now he still holds the highest rank of the royal navy!

So leave it to the kid of a war god to sniff all that out about him, huh…? They appeared to know all about his record the instant they saw him and they actually seemed to respect him for it!

For context, this mortal tells pretty much everybody to shove off but any time he’s around they call him “Admiral” or “sir” and actually pay attention to what he says! He can tell it drives Lucifer insane, but honestly? It’s a bit of an ego boost. 😌

It’s sort of cute when they come to him asking for tactical advice… They get just as into it as he does with his anime and any time he points out something that they haven't seen before they get so excited it's like they're a kid watching a magic trick. HUGE ego boost. 😏

Speaking of anime, it’s hit or miss whether or not they can watch any of it. Anything with good fight scenes (and let’s be honest, not that much talking) they’re on board for. But if the hero and the villain talk to each other for like an episode before throwing punches then the MC will just rant...

MC: “The enemy is distracted... Why aren’t they attacking yet??”

Levi: “Because the villain killed the hero’s best friend and they’re-”

MC: “They could avenge their friend right now if they ended things right here!”

Levi: “MC, we’ve been over this... That’s not how plot works.”

MC: “And now he got away!! See?? They should have killed him when they had the chance!”

Levi: “*sigh*... Let’s just play some CoD.”

Satan 

The last thing he remembered when the “human” hopped out of the portal was a sharp pain to the side of the temple and Asmo wailing as he fell unconscious…

Yeeeeah, not great. And unfortunately for the mortal the Avatar of Wrath tends to hold a grudge… 

For a comparatively brief moment in time, all of Satan’s considerable ire had shifted away from Lucifer and to their new housemate. They found their bed, clothes, pillows, food, and even their toothbrush cursed!

… But Ares kids must be built from some strong stuff, because half of what he employed didn’t even faze them! He even put an explosive spell on their backpack and not only did they tank the blast, it didn’t hurt them at all!! It was like they’re damn near immortal!

Annnnd they kind of are. Apparently the MC had taken a dip in the River Styx at some point before and became nigh invulnerable…

Was it maybe a little terrifying to know that they had kidnapped a nearly invincible demigod on the level of Achilles? Yes. Did that also mean that they must have had a weakness too? In theory....

Satan honestly devoted a depressing amount of time trying to uncover the “Achilles’ Heel” of his new sworn enemy… until…

The MC was walking with him and Asmo to RAD one morning when they passed by a group of lesser demons harassing a small puppy. Now Satan may be more of a cat man, but NO ONE fucks with animals while he’s around.

He was right about to go over and rip those demons a new one but the MC actually beat him to it! Apparently, the second that they realized what was happening, they launched themselves forward and started bashing the abusers' heads into a wall!

… Live by violence, forgive by violence because in that very moment Satan decided they weren’t so bad after all. He even joined in!

Oh, Asmo gave them both shit all day for the bloodstains on their uniforms and the scratches on their… everywhere, but it’s not like either of them cared. Righteous justice had been served and it was glorious!!

100% would team up with the MC in some kind of vigilante “punish-all-animal-abusers” gig. They have but to ask. 😌

Asmodeus

Oh they TERRIFIED Asmo when they first showed up! How else was he supposed to react?? They brought down his brothers like they were made of cardboard!!

Though he had to admit that the confident, battle-ready look they had about them was sexy as hell, he knew better than to go bear poking! 😣 He avoided them like plague until they finally asked him for a pact.

And then he discovered something… something very unexpected….

They're actually adorable!!!

Okay, like, not in appearance (they look like they could pile drive Cerberus for Pete’s sake!) but he discovered that they have NO CLUE how to handle physical affection. Like zero!!

The first time Asmo actually got the courage to try and hug them he expected them to toss him off, but instead they just stood there like a malfunctioning doll, all flustered and confused… It was so cute!!! 🥰

From that point on, Asmo would take every chance he could to wrap his arms around them or kiss their cheeks just to watch them try and fail to handle it. It's more fun than picking on Levi!!

It took two months for them to finally attempt any kind of reciprocation and even that was adorable! They pecked him on the forehead without thinking about it then nearly passed out from the realization. Apparently, they had never felt like kissing anyone before so he was quite honored!

The brothers know that if the MC's looking too mad to listen to Levi, they just need to call Asmo. A nigh invincible warrior becomes a LOT less scary after you’ve cuddled them into submission! 🤭

Beelzebub

Beel didn't like them one bit, at least not at the beginning. They had managed to get past him and actually attack Lucifer which was NOT a great first impression on their part...

He honestly saw them as a threat for a while, but unlike the rest of his brothers he didn’t avoid them. He just kept an eye on them.... constantly….

Look. Beel is a big guy. Stealth is not his strong suit… If he's tailing you, you're probably going to know about it because there's a six-foot something behemoth in orange following you around while pounding down bags of chips. He's not very subtle…

That being said, after following them around for a while the two finally got to talking and he realized that they didn’t want to hurt anybody or anything. They were just acting on instinct before.

After making the MC promise not to hurt any of his family, they got on much better terms. Hell, he actually got them into fangol!

Beel's sport of choice is pretty much just ultra-violent American football so the MC took a liking to it instantly! After enough begging, the coach let them try out and they got onto his team immediately.

He likes having them as a teammate! They're very good at the game, uh... even if they take it a little too seriously…

They once tried to convince his teammates to decorate the team bus with "the helmets of their fallen foes." They're REALLY into the sport… But hey, they haven't lost a game since they’ve joined. It’ll be fine!... Probably.

Belphegor

Hahaha… He’s in danger… 😥

It took one look at this mortal to make him rethink the whole, “Trick the Human” plan… Since when have humans looked like that?? They could crush his skull under their heel!!

It took all he had in him to play it cool when they first met because his internal monologue was nothing but screaming… THIS was the "human" he had to use to get him out of there?? How in the WORLD was he going to kill them?!

Admittedly, he had to think about it for a while. Belphie's a clever guy… and a demon. So who needs an honorable fight, anyway? If he can’t win one-on-one, then he’ll cheat!

He waited until the MC got the door open and didn't attempt a frontal assault… No laughter, no gloating. He just waited for them to turn their back, claws ready to dig out their heart, and then-!

MC: "Do you really want to try that?"

The MC must have had some kind of danger sense, because they didn't even have to turn around to know what Belphie was doing…

MC: "Look. I like Beel and you're his twin brother… So I'm willing to let this slide. But if you really want to try me…"

MC: *looks over their shoulder with the glare of a bona fide killer* "I won't hold back."

That was... very persuasive.

The MC brought Belphie down to the others peacefully with his tail between his legs and honestly Lucifer was more relieved that he wasn’t a bloodstain on the floor than he was mad… They could have killed him sooo easily… 

They did, indeed, forgive and forget about the whole “attempted murder” thing, though Belphie was never quite able to shake off how frightening they were in that moment… He had nightmares for a while.

Thankfully, Asmo clued him in that the MC would melt into a harmless puddle of fluff if they got even the slightest bit of physical affection... Oh, the sweet payback he could dish out... It’s cuddle time. 😏

[liesoverthec]

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 1

Hi folks! Welcome to my post of character details for fic writers or really anyone who wants to know! All of these details come directly from the show - they’re just things I picked up on watching the show on intense repeat for screen time, so the details are about as canon as they can get. Some of them, like addresses, come from an specific episode, while others are trends I’ve picked up on. If you want a “citation” for a fact let me know and I can provide one if it exists!

I tried to include a good range of information between the 7 main characters, so that it was available for anyone.

I’m going to keep making these posts every time I get enough details collected so you can find them all under “911 canon character details” in the future! I’m committed to rewatching the whole series again for the regulars’ screen time, so I’ll be making more of these posts throughout the summer. If there’s something in particular you’d like to know, let me know and I can keep an eye out for it.

Things I noticed that might be interesting character details, part 1:

Athena and Bobby live at 1810 Fallsgrove St.

Eddie lives at 4995 S Bedford St Apt 403 (Julia made this fantastic post of the layout of Eddie’s house, and I’ve spent my own significant amount of time trying to work it out, so when I say this layout is spot on, I really mean it). (I believe this is more of a duplex situation - ie he has other neighbors attached to his outside walls, but no downstairs or upstairs neighbors.)

(These two locations are 8 minutes apart, which I personally thought was vvvvvv useful if you wanted to have someone rush from one place to another - also makes me think the 118 would be close to that neighborhood.)

Chim and Maddie live in apartment 2B. It’s a one-bedroom apartment, so currently Jee-Yun is sleeping in their room with them. I’ll be curious to know if they move as she gets older or if they magically spring up a bedroom for her - I just know there isn’t one at the moment bc Albert slept on their couch first, and then when he was injured, THEY slept on the couch.

Buck has two bathrooms! There’s one immediately to the left as you walk in his front door, and then one up in the loft, off the platform. Which I thought was a large number of bathrooms for a loft since it’s such a small space, but useful for when Christopher is visiting I suppose...

The hospital they go to for personal stuff is First Presbyterian. They’ve only started featuring its name prominently this season, but it’s the same waiting room and ER they’ve been using since s2, so I’d assume it’s also in the same neighborhood, since it’s fictional.) It’s on Altamont Street.

Given that you can see the Cecil Hotel from Michael’s apartment, I’d assume he either lives on S Spring St or S Los Angeles St. Either way he’s about twice as far from Athena and Bobby as Eddie is, and in the opposite direction.

Alcohol preferences - Athena prefers white wine, but will also drink rose and red, Hen drinks red and beer but doesn’t do it socially as much as everyone else, Chim is p much strictly beer unless it’s a fancy dinner (or tequila if he really wants to get drunk), Maddie prefers white wine, Buck drinks beer or white wine, and Eddie is a beer dude, red wine if it’s a fancy occasion (this is what they choose if they have a choice like at a bar, or if they’re hosting - eg when Athena hosts, EVERYONE drinks white because that’s what she’d choose.)

Eddie does not have the Hildy coffee maker on his kitchen counter - he still has an older model that only makes coffee.

He also likes to decorate in the color turquoise! (Maybe Shannon liked turquoise so that’s what he tends to buy?? That’s your decision, there’s just a lot of it in his kitchen. Also, his laptop case is turquoise!)

Hen gets a new pair of glasses every year. (Which means she’s doing better than me, I only get a new pair when I lose the old ones 😂)

Athena has two big diamond rings, and she wears one on each of her ring fingers (Bobby has good taste). She does not wear her rings while working.

Bobby has a gold wedding band for home, and wears a black silicone ring at work.

Hen wears her wedding ring all the time, and it’s a plain silver band.

Eddie had a gold wedding band while he was married to Shannon, and he wore it while on active duty in the Army (even during the helicopter crash). He is wearing it after Shannon leaves, but he takes it off before he comes to LA. His St. Christopher’s medal is silver with a navy border, hanging on a silver chain.

Chim prefers the short sleeve uniform. He really never wears the long sleeved one.

Eddie likes soft jazz, and will play it in the background during dinner. Idk if it’s his favorite type of music, but he likes it enough to put it on.

Buck has a picture of the ocean (I think? it’s definitely some sort of landscape) in his work locker - no other photos currently. Eddie has also been seen using this same locker.

Everyone has an iPhone and if they have a computer, it’s a Mac (this one is just bc capitalism - the show is sponsored by Apple). Hen has a red phone case, and Maddie has a navy one with gold trim, everyone else’s is super boring black/navy.

Maddie’s contact for Chim is “Howie” in her phone.

In Eddie’s phone, his contact for Buck is just “Buck”.

Bobby is just “Bobby” in Buck’s phone.

Christopher’s current interests are space and dinosaurs. And gaming!

In addition to Eddie and Albert, Chim also seems to like baseball, going off the jersey on his wall.

Every time we’ve seen Buck and Eddie drive somewhere together, Buck has driven and Eddie took the passenger seat.

Both Eddie and the Wilsons have a fireplace in their living room with framed photos of their kids at various ages.

Karen is a doctor! It’s a PhD, so she couldn’t join the team as a medic, but it does make them the future Drs Wilson. Her specialization is something to do w/ physics or chemistry etc, b/c she worked on a project for JPL on Mars, so you can run with that.

Michael is an architect, and David is a neurosurgeon who can help with emergency medicine.

Work masks: Bobby, Maddie and Athena prefer masks with a loop over each ear, while Eddie, Chim, Buck and Hen use the ones with two straps behind the head. Everyone uses the two ear loop ones for personal time.

Buck sleeps with socks on.

I hope the start to this list met up to your expectations, but if you’re looking for more then it will be on the way soon! I just wanted to get this first set out (plus it was looking a little long in my drafts 😂)

Lots of love!

🐝

Tagging: @imaginebuck

[georgiapeach30513]

if anyone ever makes fun of Blade for being a cry baby mamas boy i NEED lil Carter and James to kick some butt

OH!!! Well...not only is Blade a mama's boy, he struggles with his speech and panic attacks, he wears glasses, he's really smart, he's rich, and he's a bit of a nerd. We know that kids are CRUEL...for age references Story 7, Blade 9, Aster/Iris 13, James/Carter 14.  Bullies 13.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Leave Him Alone

Summary:  Blade didn’t do someone’s homework

Pairings: Blade, Story, Iris, Aster, James, and Carter

Rating:  mild

Warnings: Blade tears, bullying, Story tears, depictions of a panic attack, depictions of an asthma attack, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.4K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

"Leave him alone!” Story shouts pulling at the boys arm that pushes Blade’s back on the side of the building.  “I said leave him alone!”

“You always get your little sister to fight your battles mama’s boy?  You were told to do our homework and you didn’t.”

“My...my, my, my, my, my mom..mom, mom...”

“He can’t breath!  Stop!  Bladey, look at me!” Story cries trying to push the boys aside, but one pushes her on the ground.  “Bladey, breathe bubba!  He’s gonna pass out, stop!”

“He owes us princess,” her big round eyes fill with tears, and she gets back up trying to get to her brother who keeps repeating my, his eyes blinking rapidly, and she can his throat getting tighter.

“Please stop!  He’s just a little kid.  Bladey,” her own breath starts heaving the more she cries, trying to get to him.  Even taking in wheezing breaths, she still gets up to try and reach her brother.  “Bub-b...” she takes in another shallow breath, needing to rest her hands on her knees as her airways swell more.  “Bub...”

The bully shoves him harder against the building, “Nothing but a big ole baby to even his little sister.”

“Weave...weave, weave her awone.”

“M-m-m-make me cry baby.”

“Who do you think you are?” James asks coming around the corner with Carter, Aster, and Iris.  Carter takes one look at the crying Story and the trembling little boy.  He helps Story up, and pulls them both to Aster and Iris.  Iris picks Story up, and she clings to her like a koala bear, Story reaches out a hand to Blade.  “Get them outta here!”

“Really, you’ve taken on picking on little kids?” Carter’s hand pushes him up against the wall.  “Could you not tell they couldn’t breathe?”

“A bunch of pussies.”

“He has panic attacks, and she’s got asthma, dipshit!  They’re little kids,” his hand slams them against the walls.

“What’re going to do about it Rogers?  Baizen could get this taken off his record with the right amount of money, but the army won’t take someone who...” James shoves him harder against the wall.

“You stay away from them.”

“You tell him to get my homework, I don’t care what that mommy’s boy says.”

Getting right up in his face, James takes a slow whisper, “Come around them again and see what happens.  Takes a real big man to pick on two little kids.  Especially ones small for their age.  Does it make you feel tough,” James and Carter turn to leave as Aster comes back, smacking the main boy across the face for good measure.

“You little bitch,” without thinking Carter turns to punch him in the face, and it becomes an almost brawl, with Headmaster Strange having to break it up, sending everyone including Blade and Story to the office.

Story leans over on Blade’s shoulder, holding on to his hand before she pulls away looking down at her uniform, “He messed my new tie up,” her eyes look up at her brother and they both giggle a bit.

“How’re you breathing sissy?” Iris asks her, thankful they had an inhaler in her locker.

“Fine, now ask Blade.”

“I’m fine, too.”

“Well my hand hurts,” Aster rubs along her hand, and slumps down a bit more when you walk into the office.

“Mrs. Drysdale, I need to see you right away.”

“Can I at least check on my children?” you ask looking over to Story and Blade, both seem calm enough, but you can see the redness in their eyes, and know they’ve been crying.

“I assure you they’re fine,” you follow him into the office, the door closing with a loud bang.

“We’re screwed.”

“Az, you didn’t do anything,” Carter assures her, switching seats to sit beside Story as he attempts to straighten her tie.

“I smacked the asshole, and it started the fight.”

“Did you forget he wash pushing your brother and sister around?” James asks, his hands still shaking with adrenaline.

“I hope you enjoy your meeting with my husband and Mr. Rogers then!” your voice screams in the office.  Walking out you look at all the kids, “All of you, let’s go now.”

“Mrs. Drysdale, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Baizen have not been released.  I need to speak to their parents.”

“Do they need to be present like my children were?  Need I remind you my daughter and son could not breathe!  Iris called me worried sick about her siblings, and you’re worried about me taking James and Carter with me?  They’re going to sit there until their parents get off work?  Seeing how my youngest two are traumatized and Story had to use her inhaler because she was worried about her brother.  You want to suspend Aster, James, and Carter fine.  They’re going home with me.  Get your things kids,” walking over to Story and Blade, you’re finally able to check out your children.

“Mommy, my...my, my gwasses got a wittle...wittle, wittle bit broken.”

You lean forward pressing your lips hard against his forehead.  “It’s okay baby, we’ll get you new ones.  We’re going to go home and I’m making the biggest thing of hot chocolate, and we’ll watch the Princess Bride, okay?  And when daddy gets home, he’s making everyone sundaes.”

“With princess sprinkles?”

“Yes, baby, with princess sprinkles and whatever else you want.”

“Mrs. Drysdale.”

“We’re finished Headmaster Strange.  I’m taking all of my kids home.”

________________________________________________________________

Ransom and Steve march through of Headmaster Strange’s office.  The two of them angrily sitting down.  “Thank you gentleman...”

“My wife tells me that James, Carter, and Aster were suspended?”

“We don’t tolerate physical violence.”

Ransom takes a deep calming breath.  His hands folding together as he grips them tightly with the other.  His dark blue eyes glaring at the headmaster.  Steve just sits back, he knows this is about to be an interesting conversation.  “I’m hoping the bullies are in fact suspended?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“My daughter was pushed to the ground multiple times because she was trying to calm her brother.  All of which she was doing while she was starting to have an asthma attack.  Maybe I should also mention she’s seven.  These boys in question are thirteen.  She wanted to calm her brother who was having a panic attack, because two older boys were pushing him up against that wall for not doing their homework.  He’s nine.  Now, we get Aster, Carter, and James involved.  The boy called my daughter a name.”

“James Rogers and Carter Baizen were hitting a younger classmate.”

“They were defending my younger children.  They’re not traumatized.  Blade is clinging to my wife, and I had pry my daughter off my chest.  Left her crying on my grandfather who normally gives her comfort, and all you have to say about that is James and Carter were hitting a younger classmate?  They should if they’re going to be picking on two small children.”

“Are you suggesting that the fight is justified?” Headmaster Strange sits up a bit straighter when Ransom nods his head.

“I’m suggesting that you and this faculty should do your job!  Story was outside screaming for them to leave Blade alone, while your staff was where?  Had this been handled by adults and not children there might not have been a fight.  I thought you had a zero tolerance for bullies?”

“Mr. Drysdale...”

“If you suspend them, that’s fine.  I will make sure they are rewarded every single day of their suspension for doing something that was supposed to be your job.  Now, are we at an understanding?”  Headmaster Strange nods his head, “And let me make something perfectly clear, when my wife wants to check on her children, even her extended children, she will be granted the right to do so.  All she wanted before she talked to you was to make sure everyone was okay.  And this incident will not go on any of their records.  They’re all good kids with exceptional grades, extra curricular activities, and they help around the community.  What do those bullies do, besides use a nine year old to do their homework?”

“Mr. Rogers?”

“James has been talking about joining the army for years. He doesn’t need something like this on his record. He will be dealt with and know that violence isn't the answer.  He looks at Blade and Story like his own.  They were being attacked by someone older, him and Carter acted in the best way that they could think.  I hope you look at this as a whole.  These kids don’t get in trouble.  They follow the rules, but I also teach my son to stand up for the smaller ones.  He did just that, so I am proud of him.  Thank you, now if you excuse me, I’ve been promised a sundae with red, white, and blue sprinkles."

Masterlist

[sopxhiea]

Palpable

Farrier X Reader

Summary: Farrier meets a young woman who works as a spy during the war and it so happens that this young woman’s next mission means she’ll be around for a while.

“Sorry… I wasn’t born with a filter.” 

The sky seems to be too clear for a day of war. The base is full, new soldiers come and go as they’re instructed to do while the ones that have been here for a while just watch. The air force base is a big metal box with high walls that house the destruction machines.

But that’s not how Farrier would describe them.

He sees them as his wings, maybe he was given a pair before he was born but they’d morphed into longer limbs. He knows he’s meant to be flying, whether it’s for his country or not. The war adds danger and thrill to the mix, two things that don’t necessarily go together.

He watches as the newbies walk into the space, they’re mostly young lads with their heads held up high. He knows they’ll come out of this as men, men who are emotionally drained and will never return to their old selves again. It’s a new week, he concludes and walks back to his wing on the base.

His stare drops on Collins first and the scotsman gives him a nod of his head. There’s a line of men waiting to be briefed about their next mission, even though there’s not much to be said. They need to keep the sky clear of any enemies and that’s mostly it. He stands next to Collins and they start making small talk.

That is, until the General walks in.

He’s wearing the dark green uniform, stars embedded across his wide shoulders as he takes a look at the line of men. They become less with every passing day. There’s a bunch of papers on his hand that are soon to be thrown out and a lieutenant follows his footsteps.

And there’s you.

It’s no wonder why you stand out, given you are in a base filled with men and men only. You’re wearing a black suit, similar to what Collins is wearing but it’s baggier and less formal. There’s no indication of a rank on your shoulders but a maroon beret and compartments filled with small guns for all he can see.

And you’re beautiful, too.

He thinks it’s not something that they pay attention to when choosing officers of any sort but the only women he’s seen around are nurses and they certainly do not look as gentle to the eye as you do. There’s a boyish hint to your walk as you eye each and every men on the line, they seem interested.

The briefing starts, it’s short and completely unnecessary. The air force is not the most liked part of the army but you know they do their job, more so than some other parts of the military as far as you’ve seen. You listen to the General as he talks about certain areas the pilots are required to stay away from and then he finishes his words. 

The wing commanders then separate into another room, it’s a different briefing about the movements of the Germans and Farrier follows the General as he walks into the small room. There are four commanders, the general and you in the room and everyone is waiting for the General to address the elephant in the room, that being you.

The general then proceeds to clear his throat and look at you before facing the commanders and speaks.

“This is Ms. Y/L/N from the Secret Intelligence Service. She’ll be here to carry out a couple missions for the crown.” he finishes his sentence and the commanders all nod except Farrier, he’s looking at your gentle orbs instead, the ones that are directed right at him.

Your gaze does not shy away from his or any other commander’s unlike all the nurses or the women they have met through the course of the war. You hold a weight within yourself, something he’d seen in soldiers who’d been bombed and almost died but he just goes along with the General’s orders.

You’re young, he thinks. Young enough that he feels uneasy but not enough to make him speak up.

He then walks back to where his precious Spitfire rests next to Collins. Collins starts making talk about how he’d seen a couple of new soldiers fuss about Farrier’s plane but Farrier is not as present as he sits on the familiar seat of the pilot and gets ready.

A long day waits for him.

--------

The sound of bullets through the air and a plane engine crashing into the water hits his ears as he walks around the base. It’s far past midnight but the base is even more alive. He sees a couple guys he recognizes, some of them from the morning briefing and some are just familiar lads.

He waits for the engine fuel while there’s a clear rush around. It’s not the kind of rush he’s seen a lot in the air force base but more of the kind he’d come across on the ground. He then sees a couple soldiers being carried into the base, wounded badly with nurses overcrowding around their heads.

His gaze falls on you.

You look like you’re walking out of hell with cuts and bruises all over your face and upper body. He sees the blood covered bandage on your left arm and no matter how injured you look, you walk towards the general with full ambition. You look furious.

Your mouth moves, hair falling on to your forehead as you talk to the general and he nods at your words, telling you to meet him upstairs in his room. It’s not much of a room, Farrier thinks but they make do.

The general walks past Farrier and tells him to do just the same, wait for him in his office. Your eyes briefly meet his blue orbs but before he has a chance to say something, a nurse comes to your rescue and drags you around the place only to sit you down and take care of some of the wounds around your face.

The truth is, there are many soldiers that need the nurse’s help. Farrier finds it obscure that this nurse is taking extra measures to make sure your face is more put together when there’s men losing limbs around the place. 

But then he puts it together.

He’s heard things about the secret intelligence spies. He’s heard of a few women but he know they do business with their faces first. He can tell you’re trained to kill but your face says something else, which is just what you need when you’re trying to get into places no soldier can possibly have access to.

He walks upstairs into the crumbling room where the General waits. There’s another lieutenant in the room and you come in with blood and cuts around your face not too long after. Farrier takes a good look at your face, he thinks you manage to look beautiful even with countless glass cuts all over your face but he stops when he finds you staring right back at him.

“Y/N.” the General speaks and you both straighten at his voice.

You nod and speak, it’s the first time Farrier’s heard your voice. “Yes, sir.” you say, a gulp follows the stern voice. He thinks you sound just like how you look, confident but young.

“This is Wing Commander Farrier..” the General speaks and you look at Farrier for a brief moment with the shake of your head, as a way of saying ‘hello’. “...His crew will be the ones assisting you on your next mission.” he finishes the sentence and you nod. You recall the place you need to go for the next mission assigned to you, you catch Farrier nod from the corner of your eye and the General leaves the room along with the lieutenant. 

When the room is fully empty, you turn to Farrier and offer your hand with a soft voice. “Y/N.” you speak, you know he knows your name but there’s always time for proper introduction.

His large hand envelops yours as he shakes it, your soft skin feels new as he speaks. “Farrier.”

Just as you’re about to speak up, Collins walks into the room.

“Hey-” he says but before he can continue, he looks at you from head to toe. Farrier sees no reason to waste any time and speaks up.

“This is agent Y/N.” he says, looking at you and you only while you offer your hand to the scotsman who’s currently inspecting your face. You don’t blame him. You’d had a perfectly clean face in the morning and now, you have blood all over your face.

“Pleasure to meet ya’.” Collins speaks and you nod, he’s dressed sharply compared to Farrier and you note the attitude change.

“It’s been nice meeting you gentlemen but I have a mission to get to.” you speak with a low smile, a childish hint to your voice that makes Farrier want to rescue from what you’re about to do but he watches you walk away and so does Collins.

Just as Collins is about to speak, your soft voice as a shout comes from the corridors of the space, making both of them look out of the door while your back is turned at them for a momentary second. 

“Good luck out there!”

-------

It’s a day later. There’s smoke in the base from the malfunctioning machines accompanied by the silent screams of the lucky soldiers who have been rescued from around the place. There are a couple nurses away from the tent they’re assigned to, running around with hopes to help some of the new comer soldiers covered in wounds.

And there you are, cleaning your fresh wound on your own. 

It’s on your right shoulder, you can see it when you lean down but not too clear. Your irises burn from the smoke around but you know there’s no escaping it. You ignore the oozing pain from your ankles and try to clean the wound to the best of your ability.

Then, he shows up. 

The exhaustion is clear on his face, the day was spent chasing enemy up on the sky but he can’t help but walk towards your figure. You sit on the floor with some bandages around you as you rub alcohol into the wound. You’re actually doing a good job but he figures a hand wouldn’t hurt.

Your eyes meet his when he sits on the ground next to you. You’re about to say something but he takes the cotton from your hand and does what you were doing just a little earlier, just gentler as you watch.

You gulp and speak, he can see the fancy dress you’re wearing but he doesn’t ask questions. Figures it isn’t his place. “Thank you.” you say, eyes far away while he looks at your face, it’s healing up.

You’d gone to a noblemen’s party today, you were assigned to gather information on one of the trusted funders of the war. He was French but the intelligence had enough dirt on him to assume that he was helping the other side, the side that was currently destroying the country from its heart.

Everything was all going well until a drunk rich lord had decided to load his gun and play a little game on his own. You’d stopped the gunfire but it had cost a bullet on your shoulder and cuts from the shattering glass around. It was silly, just how luxurious these lords and madams lived while the poor and unfortunate suffered.

“Your assigned mission is tomorrow?” he spoke, the mission he was meant to watch for was tomorrow and he wanted there to be as little damage as possible. You got up after he finished with patching you up and you both started walking towards the briefing area.

“Yes, although It will be shorter than what you’ve been told.” you spoke and started walking down the stairs and he followed with brows furrowed.

“How much shorter?” he spoke, accent filling each word as you licked your lips before answering him. You had report today’s work to your superior and he was just following you.

“About an hour. It’s an easy job, in and out. It won’t take me longer than that.” you spoke while his boots thudded against the surface of the floor.

He sped up his steps to catch up with you, he was trying to get your attention but you were completely ignorant to the idea. It was war time and you were focused, you had to be.

“What’s the job entail?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.” you said, finding it silly that he would even ask an agent to expose any information but he was just trying to get you to talk. And you did. “The general will inform you on your side of the job.” you spoke, eyes looking up at his and you ignored the fact that he had been staring for a while now. You kept on walking and he followed you.

“Now, Commander, If you’re done asking me about classified missions, I have to report back to the base.” you spoke, voice confident while offered Farrier a smile. He didn’t mind your professionalism, he knew this wasn’t a place of love.

He nodded and murmured a small ‘yes, ma’am’ before you disappeared. Your walls were made of steel, he wouldn’t be able to melt them no matter how hard you tried and you figured, he already had someone as most soldiers did. If they didn’t, they’d take it up on themselves to find a lover around their base.

He was just curious about the mission, you told yourself.

------

Twenty hours, five bullets, two airplanes and three explosions later, you were seated between Collins and Farrier.

The mission was complete, the Queen’s man had been protected and you had enough information about the new individuals to act on them. It also happened that you were covered in your own blood since there had been a surprise attack to the mansion you were in.

The look of surprise in both Collins’ and Farrier’s face was a picture when they saw you. You looked like a dead bride of some sort, every inch if your face and upper body were covered in blood, some your own and some of the other guests’.

You were currently waiting for the general to come out and give you the new details. The pilots were there, waiting to get fuel in their death machines next to you. You got a pack of cigars out, ones you’d gotten from a French aristocrat. You didn’t regularly smoke them, only when you’d been face to face with death.

“Those kill ye’, ya’ know.” Collins spoke, watching you light the cigar and you inhaled once before looking at him.

They weren’t covered in blood like you, they looked just fine but there was a hint of horror in both their eyes.

“I’ll die soon if it goes like this anyway.” you let the smoke go as Farrier watched you with intent eyes. There was no point in lying, the missions had been extra challenging and you’d been shot too many times to be able to function properly.

You realised what you’d just said to two soldiers who faced death everyday. They saw men die all the time, it wasn’t pleasant or wanted but seeing you, a young woman who’s supposedly in the prime stage of her life saying that she’ll die soon had felt like a bullet in their hearts.

“Sorry… I wasn’t born with a filter.”  you said, earning a chuckle from Farrier. You offered them the cigar, licking your lips and speaking as you’d not just said that you would be dead soon.

“You’ll think you’ll make it?” Collins spoke, looking directly at you as you sat next to him on the metal surface.

Farrier’s eyes locked with yours the moment Collins’ words left his mouth. He was not keen on living afterwards, he’d seen his fair share of the world but it was clear that you hadn’t.

“Probably not.” you said, taking another puff from the cigar as they waited you to speak further. “..most of the agents who work for the crown die in their first six months of the missions.”

“How long have you been working then?” Farrier spoke, you gulped before answering him. You weren’t the typical agent.

Most of them were men who were in their mid twenties. It became easer to identify them and targeting them became no hassle for the germans which was why they had secretly started hiring women, young women in particular, to work as spies since they seemed to be more versatile.

“About nine months.” you said, chuckling when Collins murmured a small ‘cheers’.

But what you were saying was different and Farrier was the only one caught up with it. You were a walking corpse. You’d done and knew too much to even survive if you went back home. You had too much information, your young age didn’t matter to the crown. Only your service did and you’d done your fair share of the spy work.

Collins then left, something to with the engine of his machine. You watched as he walked away, probably leaving the base soon to do his job. You were left with Farrier on your side then, the cigar was long gone.

“Are you always that close to death?” Farrier asked, genuinely curious after seeing you work today. You’d went in with a fancy party dress and came out with three bullet wounds and blood all over you. “Like today, I mean.” he kept speaking but you knew what he was saying. There was something calm about him that made you want to take it easy but this was war, not a calm tuesday afternoon in a the peaceful world.

“Mostly.” you gulped and kept on speaking. “They have a line of agents who do inside jobs like me. I deal with the risky side of the business.” you spoke, like it was just regular business and not dangerous criminal work.

“What about the others?” he spoke, curious as to how this all works. He’d heard things but this was the first time he even had the chance to speak with an agent of the crown face to face, let alone a young woman like you.

You eyed him first, he was being nosy. If it was anyone else, you would’ve just told them to mind their business, the information was confidential. But something about Farrier made you lower your guard for some reason. You looked around before speaking.

“They deal with the common people. Officers and workers. They gather information on things like...” you waved your fingers through the air and made a confused face before speaking. “..hideaways and all that.”

He looked at you then, you were far too young for this but he of all people knew that war knew no age. If it was a different time, he was sure he’d find you with rosy cheeks, under a blossoming tree but now, you were covered in blood in a dress the military had provided you.

“I assume you deal with the posh ones then.” he spoke, just trying to make conversation. He knew there was no way he could get personal so he kept the topic on work.

You nodded before speaking again, eyes not meeting his most of the time. “Noblemen, aristocrats, madams and sometimes even presidents.” you said, lifting your eyebrows at the last words as his expression changed from interested to shocked. You dealt with people who caused this war in the first place.

“You ever get scared? Cold feet?” he asked, earning a genuine grin from you. He was cracking up to be something.

“Always.” you spoke, it was the full truth. You didn’t go into a room full of aristocrats and their beloved butlers without sweat on your hands.

He looked at you then, scanning you from head to toe to see any kind of fear of doubt. You smiled at the soldier next to you, a genuine curve of your lips greeted his blue orbs but it felt like a bullet had gone through his head. Your earnest smile was the first thing that had managed to make him feel at ease since he’d gone into this mess.

What was he doing?

He nodded at your words, long after they stopped hanging around the cool air around you as you looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time. He seemed rough around the edges, not like his colleague Collins who was dressed sharply and knew every sign in the book. 

He then asked the biggest question he had, the one that appeared the moment he saw you.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be carrying out missions for the crown?” he said in one full breath. His voice wasn’t as confident.

“I am.” you gulped and spoke again. “That doesn’t really matter. They just want someone who can attract attention and do the job at the same time.” you said, liking the way his orbs change when you spoke.

“And that’s you.” he said, as a matter of fact.

“Surprised?” you asked, finding comfort in talking to this stranger you just met a couple days ago.

“Nah.” he shook his head at his own words. “If anything, I think you’re quite perfect for that sort of job.” he said, watching your curious eyes as he spoke. You laughed at first, it was genuine and he swore it was like birds singing or that time he’d heard a beautiful melody inside a church.

“Well, Commander, I need to leave but it’s been a pleasure.” you spoke, eyes formal and stern again. It was like you had a switch.

“Will I see you?” he said in a heartbeat. He didn’t think twice before saying the words, hence why he was cursing at himself while you gave him a sweet smirk.

“I’m sure you will.”

And you were off.

--------

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @jelan-bike

a/n: Let me know what you thought of the chapter/if you want to be tagged!! <3 And so sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoyed it.

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.

Part 2.

Avengers x fem!reader 

Pt.1

Words: 1892

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Main Masterlist 

Maria and Fury bring you to The Avengers tower for mission briefing and meet the rest of the team. To be honest, you are beyond excited you see the building. You move from your seat to another, looking out of the window, facing the tower. Maria looks at you at the rear view mirror, seeing your awe face and smile. “If you open that window, I might’ve mistaken you with a dog.” You ignore her comment and ask them “Is this S.H.I.E.L.D? You guys work here? You build this place papa Bear? This is taller than I thought it would be!”

Fury look at you and then Maria “Now she’s excited.” Maria answer your question. “That is Avengers tower. S.H.I.E.L.D no longer exist. Burn to the ground.” You didn’t keep up about them after left the agency so you don’t know what happened. “What happened? Did this moody papa Bear show his emotion through action?” You let out a small laugh until Fury annoyed “Once again you call my name other than Fury, I’ll burn you too.” “Nahh, you’re not going to burn me. You need me. Otherwise, I’m not in this car right now. I said to him and Maria drive through the parking basement. “She got you, boss.”

Fury walk ahead to their meeting room. You stop your track when you see an aquarium placed at the wall. You never see something like that before in your life. When Maria realize that you are not walking behind her, she turns back to get you. “What are you doing?” “Looking at these fish in an aquarium stuck on the wall. How they do that? How they going to feed the fish? Rich people shit, quite awesome.” You said and Maria just shake her head. “We have a world crisis and the first thing you did is watch the fish?! Are you kidding me? Let’s go meat the team.”

 Meanwhile Fury already told the team about a new protocol or whatever. You didn’t hear that clearly until you are inside the room. Fury talk to them. “Since all of you are here, including Maximoff, I have a new protocol that you can use.” Steve looking confusing at Fury. “We already made a plan.” Tony interrupt to teasing Steve “Yeah and a good ted talk by the captain too.” Natasha asking about the protocol. “Do we know about the protocol?” Fury take a seat “No, Romanoff. No one knows about this protocol except Agent Hill. This protocol was created to help the team when in need, and this team clearly need it right now.” Steve ask him. “What protocol is that?” Natasha looking at Clint and he shrug. “B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.” Tony just laugh while Steve have a serious face looking at him. “I’m sorry. That’s kinda funny name for a protocol.” Maria open the door and you both going in. All eyes on you and you feeling slightly nervous. How can you not, they are The Avengers! You recognize all of their face except one person wearing black dress and red cardigan.  

Fury introduce you to the team. “Right on time. Avengers, I introduce you B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL, as in Best Associate By Yours truly.” Maria added “Also, we call her Baby.” They are quiet and shock appear in their faces except two people. Natasha and Clint. They go greet you. “Baby!” Natasha walks to hug you while Tony look at you two weird. “Nat! Omg, I miss you. Clint! Miss you too!” You hug Clint and he hold your head. “Well, she grows up.” “Yeah, with some food and water, I did. Man, you’re old.” You said to him and Natasha smile “Kids growing, Barton.” “Natasha, beautiful as always. You have to drop your skin care routine, sis.” Tony interrupt the moment “You both knew her? Fury, you said no one know about this protocol.” Fury nods. “I said no one know about this protocol not that Romanoff and Barton didn’t know her.”

Steve starts asking question. “How old are you?” Tony interject again. “Yeah. You don’t look like a baby to me.”

             You looking back at Steve, smirk on your face. “How old are you?” Maria sign you to behave. “Baby.” Tony sit down at one of the chair. “I like this kid already!” He earns a glare from Steve and you apologizing “I’m sorry. That’s not a good first impression. I’m 22.”

“What is your name?” Damn he is a serious one.

             “People call me Baby.”

“What people didn’t call you?”

             “If they didn’t call me? Silence, I guess.” You whisper at Natasha left ear “Can I not tell them my name?” She crooks a little smile. “It’s up to you.” “I prefer being call by that name that Maria & Fury has told you or anything you want except my real name due to personal reason.” You nod and smile at them.

“Why? Dark past? Major criminal? Wanted by CIA? Interpol? MI6? Ugly name? Kicked out of family or something?” Seriously, how can they work as a team with a guy name Tony Stark? Maria, Natasha and Clint have your back.

“She’s here to help us. Nothing else, Stark.” Maria said to him.

Natasha glare at him. “I suggest you stop right there or you’re not going to see any sunlight.”

Clint agree with them. “Leave her alone man.” Tony look guilty. “Everybody in this room has dark past. I’m just curious, not judging. She’s not alone.” Wanda tell them that he told the truth. “He’s not lying.” “Thank you Wendy. Peace?” You walking toward him “No heart feeling.” You guys fist bump each other.

Steve ask again. “How do you know Barton and Romanoff?”

             “While I was in S.H.I.E.L.D Academy, which I thought a Juvenile school at first, they trained me combat espionage. Since that’s the only thing on my expertise. I wish to have Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz brain though. They’re genius in bio-chem and engerneering.”

“Why you thought it was juvenile at first? You commit crime?”

             “Duh.” Both you and Tony said it at the same time and again “JINX!” Natasha look at Steve. “Relax captain, all of us commit crime back then.” “I didn’t” Tony look at him. “Are you sure about that?” “What do you mean Stark?” Steve ask and he say “You literally cheated your medical checkup to join the army.” “I did it to protect our country.” Steve said and Clint chuckle “Still crime.” Fury tell Maria to handle the briefing and he’s out. You ask where is he going? “Where is he going?” “He have another thing to do Baby.”

             “I know most of you but I don’t think I know or seen you, Mr. ?” You ask and Natasha introduce him. “That is Dr. Bruce Banner.”

             You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. What did you do?”

Bruce seems like to hesitate to answer that. “You didn’t know? New York?”

             “Alien? Chitauri?” You ask him back innocently.

“Um. I’m, the big green guy.” He anxiously answers that.

             “An ogre! Wow, that is so cool!” Clint hold my shoulder. “The other green, buddy.” “Oh, I know. I’m sorry, I forgot your ogre name is Shrek. Still cool though. I watch all of his movies when I was a kid. Maybe we can watch it again sometimes.”

Bruce look at Natasha and then back at you. “That’s, not me either, but yeah, we can watch that, big green cartoon sometimes.” Tony finally tell you who he is. “You seriously don’t remember who broke New York kid? He’s The Hulk!” Bruce looks down and tilt his head to look at Tony. “Yes. I’m that! Thank you for bringing back memory, Tony!”

             You feel guilty for not remember that. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. But hey, New York already broken before you broke it. Can I have a selfie? You’re incredible.” You snap the picture before he even answers. Tony said something “I’m literally right here. The coolest guy in the group.” You turn your head to the girl in black dress, red cardigan. “And you are?”

She answers with a thick accent “Wanda Maximoff.”

             “You’re not from here? You have an accent just like Nat. Well, once she’s mad at me during training years ago.” You remember the detail and Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “That is one time. I slipped.” “Human make mistakes sis. You aren’t machine.”

“I just got here yesterday. I made a mistake. Wrong judgement, I want to make it right. I join them.” She explains and you currently melting, just to hear he talk. You want her to talk more so you can hear her talk. Thing is, you didn’t know that she can read mind. Where is that accent came from? Russian? You ask those questions in your head. “From Sokovia.”

             “Where are you from? What? I just ask-“

Maria answer my question. “She’s a telekinesis, energy manipulation and some kind of neuroelectric interfacing.” “Huh?” You don’t even know what that is and Maria make it simple for you. “Telepathic.” You turn to look back at her. “That is so awesome!” Tony huff at your statement. “Yeah, until she’s in your head.” She just looking down “I’m sorry.”

 Right after she said that, Thor, God of Thunder walk into the room and tell about the scepter. You are amazed and suddenly you bend the knee. “Oh. My. God. You’re Thor!” He looks back at you. “and you tiny female human.” “You. Are. the God of Lightning! I am a fan! No. I’m an air-conditioner.” He smiling, feeling proud. “Thank you, tiny human lady. It’s God of Thunder, actually. What’s an air-conditioner?”

Maria gives us final brief. “You guys might want to prepare something for tomorrow. We’re flying to Korea and find Dr. Chow tomorrow morning. Get some rest, sleep early, you guys need it.”

             You ask them a question. “Can I go back to my place, then come back? Clint can you take me?” “Yeah, I can.” Steve kind of not agree with you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why? I need to take my stuff.” “I can pick her up tomorrow.” You and Clint said and Steve ask you again. “Do you have a suit? or uniform?” You unzip your sweater and show your Donut Do It uniform. “Will, this do? Because someone decided that it was okay to give a surprise visit when I’m on my way to work.” Maria just smirking at you and Natasha smile “I don’t think that appropriate gear for the field.”

Tony offers you to stay with them at the tower. “Captain’s right. Don’t want to risk anything on the team member night before fight. Stay here, I’ve got plenty of room. Natasha can show you. They basically live here. We have spare shirts too.” You look at Wanda “You live here too?” She’s thinking about the answer. “I spend the night here.” Natasha turn you to look at her. “That’s a good idea. Just stay here tonight. Wanda’s here too.” “Natasha can show you your room, take a shower and dinner later.” Tony said. You look at Maria by the mention of dinner. She sighs “Okay, spaghetti and chicken wings.” Natasha add “And caramel pudding?” You smile at her “You remember?!” “Of course I do.” Clint jokingly say “How can she not, you guys practically sisters.”

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Thank you for spending your time reading this. Feel free to reblog or ask me anything, thank you in advance!

Part 3 is coming!

[viperbarnes]

The Long Last Summer

[B. Barnes] Oneshot

40s Post-War AU

Summary: With Steve off in America again, Bucky finds himself doing his own version of a USO tour through Italy, boosting morale and friendship, or so they tell him. However, a new stationing in the tiny town of Montecarra gives him more reason to want to stay, when he becomes quickly whisked away by wild, carefree and exuberant you.

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of the war, awful awful Italian probably. The reader has a name, but it's still written as a reader insert.

Note: The reader/character in this fic is a black woman. This fic was originally uploaded elsewhere, so if you're a part of the small audience who read it originally please don't panic, it isn't stolen lol. The story is almost entirely spoken in Italian, but doing italics for every conversation was annoying, so just assume that unless otherwise stated! Thank you for reading!

Words: 19.5k [This is very long.... Sorry...]

The hot Italian sun beats down on the town below, the occasional breeze carried overland from the nearby ocean to the west might have been a blessing if that too weren’t humid and warm. Bucky Barnes thinks it should be a sin for it to be so hot so early in the morning, but he’s long past complaining about it. Leaning against his car door, stopped on a hill overlooking the town of Montecarra, Bucky takes another drag of his cigarette before stomping it out. At least he hadn’t woken up in a filthy, sweltering trench, surrounded by hot bodies after another restless night of gunfire filled dreams. At least he was only required to wear his uniform during official ‘work’ hours.

Giving the town, his newest home, one last look, Bucky gets back in the car and makes his way down.

Being a core member of The Howling Commandos these past years, Bucky had earned himself a certain amount of celebrity, both in America and abroad. Especially in Italy. Given that Steve had returned to the States already, and Bucky had expressed some minor interest in staying in Europe a while longer, Colonel Phillips had happily assigned him as a ‘morale liaison’ while the US and other allies sorted out the peace treaties and demilitarisation of Europe.

It made as much sense to Bucky then as it did now. He had come to realise that ‘morale liaison’ was just jargon for ‘dancing, handshaking, smiling, posing monkey’, seeing as most of his time the past two years had been spent shaking hands while smiling and posing for various photos. Usually with politicians. Bucky hated politicians.

Luckily, his newest post, Montecarra, was far more what Bucky had thought he’d be doing when Phillips had given him his orders; helping people rebuild and reclaim their lives in a post-fascist Italy. As he drives through the small town, Bucky thinks briefly that the bulk of it seemed to be almost entirely untouched by the war, the classic Italian architecture and warm coloured buildings homey and welcoming, the cobbled stone streets and walkways looking every part the idyllic Tuscan town, but then he sees it.

Toward the edges of town, Bucky’s eyes catch on a shattered stone building, utterly destroyed. It’s a small ways from the town itself, a little field between it and the nearest houses, and he can’t help but already feel grateful for the fact it looked to be the only place that had been hit by the violence, though he doesn’t deny the unseen scars that no doubt linger on the people themselves.

He quickly looks away and continues on to his residence.

There was no army base or fortifications in Montecarra, the nearest being in Florence, but The people had kindly offered up a small, newly unowned cottage for the military to house any visiting soldiers in during their stay. When he finally gets to be shown around by the nearest neighbour, a friendly older woman, he’s glad that for the time being, he has it to himself.

He gets himself settled, partially unpacks his bags before getting bored and making his way out to the blooming garden, camera in hand. It had been a gift from Steve, sent for his birthday the previous year when the two had not been able to reunite, and although Bucky had much preferred putting pencil to paper before he’d owned his own camera, he’d found in recent months, as the cold receded and the sun came out, he’d picked up a knack for photography.

The fact that this model was an ‘instant’ model, making it so that after each photo he took, a little slip of paper would spit out and slowly develop the image, certainly aided his newfound love for the hobby. When he had been a kid, his Ma would take the family to have their pictures taken once a year, and the results always took days or weeks.

Lifting the camera to his eye, Bucky peeks through and aims it at a tall bushel of bougainvillea, the bright red against the butter-coloured walls of his cottage making him wish the photos weren’t just black and white.

He snaps a few more floral shots, wondering absently if he’ll be able to buy more photo paper in town. With the sun still high in the sky, he decides that he may as well take a short walk, if not to introduce himself to some of the locals, then to answer his question.

Honestly, the unendingly friendly reception he’d received everywhere he went never ceased to surprise him. Two years ago Italy had been the enemy or the soldiers and government at least. For the most part, the people caught in the crossfire had been weary and scared, but helpful where they could be to Allied soldiers. Still, the warmth they seemed to hold him, and other allied soldiers with was always a little startling at first.

By the time he makes it to the centre of town, he’d been kissed on his cheeks more times than he could count, but interestingly, the people of Montecarra weren’t as clingy as he’d found some other towns and cities… After greeting him, they’d happily left him alone, though with numerous and repeated offers to have him for dinner.

Once unable to stand doing nothing at all, and always on the go, the young man Bucky had once been, had evolved into a quieter, more solitary version of himself. He still liked to have fun, mind you, he’d learnt to take enjoyment and pleasure where he could in the army, but his sniper’s life had taught him contentedness with his own company. Bucky was fine being alone, without chatter or noise to distract him. He’d come to prefer it, actually.

Bucky finds that Montecarra’s central space was a large set of four courtyards, separated by various important municipal buildings and shops, and at the centre point, an old communal well that had been made into a fountain. Without thinking, Bucky lifts his camera to snap a shot of the fountain. He loved New York more than anything, and he couldn’t wait to return home, but damn if he hadn’t fallen hard for European architecture.

He’s still waving the little piece of photo paper back and forth to help it develop when loud laughter and the familiar noise of children playing reaches his ears. It startles him slightly, Montecarra wasn’t exactly sleepy, but it was quiet, and the residence all seemed to be of an older sort, he hadn’t seen many children yet, though a look at his watch tells him that might have been due to school.

A small gaggle of children of various ages come skipping into view across from the fountain, chatting loudly and seemingly unaware of the previous peace that had reigned in the town square. Unlike in New York, however, Bucky notices not a single patron of the nearby outdoor restaurant throws them dirty looks or hisses at them to quiet down, if anything, the people nearby pause to watch for a few seconds, not with disdain written on their faces, but soft, gentle smiles, before they return to their business.

A voice calling out from the back of the group, noticeable for its maturity in comparison to the children’s voices, catches Bucky’s attention and he lets his gaze skip over the scene until it lands on you, and suddenly, he’s breathless.

Bucky Barnes had seen a lot of beautiful women in his time, and had been lucky enough to know a number of them too, but you, you are something else entirely.

It’s your smile he notices first, plush rosy brown lips pulled wide in a joyful grin, so magnetising he finds himself unable to look away. Your hair is long, curly and dark, brushed into waves that the humidity and breeze seemed set on ruining, and with one hand you secure your wide brim sun hat as you chase the kids. Your white blouse is laced around the open collar and both it and the bright yellow of your skirt stand out against your syrupy brown skin, smooth and a little shiny from the sun.

“Here! Roberto, Norma, come sit here a moment! Look at the fountain!” You beckon the children, two strays in particular, over toward the fountain, and much like Bucky, the kids seem magnetised to you as well. You float right up to the water, sitting on the edge as the children all gather around, still chatting and playing loudly, though a little more orderly now.

Bucky watches you swipe a hand through the cool water, smiling and speaking animatedly with one of the children. He wonders if you were perhaps their teacher, but he’s snapped away from his thoughts a moment later.

“That man has a camera! Look!”

Bucky blinks, tearing his eyes from you, even as the children, and you, all now turn your attention to him in varying shades of wonderment. He’s still a small distance away, but it doesn’t matter as not even a second later, he’s being swamped by the pack of energetic youngsters.

“Are you a photographer?!”

“Can I see it?!”

“Will you take my picture!?”

The last request sets off a frenzy, the rest of the children all joining in to ask for their picture taken, and honestly, Bucky doesn’t even think he has enough paper for that.

“Hey! Mascalzoni! Leave the poor man alone!” You appear then, hands on your hips, not even two meters away and Bucky thinks he could faint.

“Oh, they’re—” He cuts himself off, switching to Italian.

“They’re fine, really… I just don’t think I have the photo paper for it…” He explains, trying his best to look you in the eye, but not quite making it. You cock your head in sympathy, and clap once, getting the children’s attention once more.

“Come on, stop it. Can’t you see you’ve scared him?!” You say playfully, though Bucky wants to correct that it isn’t them he’s scared of.

“How are we supposed to get more tourists to Montecarra if you’re all scaring them away, huh?!” You continue, crossing your arms and the kids seem to relent somewhat, whining a little as they back up from Bucky. You give him another, apologetic smile.

“Come along, you all better get home before your mothers’ tan your hides!” You say, making a shooing motion that makes Bucky second-guess his teacher theory. Before any of them can begin to move though, he takes half a step forward, holding up his camera.

“Wait, I can— I can take a photo of you all together…” He says, and watches as even your face lights up, though as the children all begin to excitedly gather in front of the fountain, you step away, to his side.

“You don’t want to be in it?” He asks, throwing you a sideways glance and yep, you’re still just as pretty as before. You smile and shake your head.

“No. Not this time.” he doesn’t know what you mean by that, but focuses back on the children, raising the camera and snapping a shot of the children, smiling brightly.

Chaos ensues once again when the paper pops out of the bottom, further exciting the group as Bucky attempts to hold the picture out of their reach while it develops, unable to stop himself from chuckling at how spirited they were. It had been a long time since he’d seen any kid so carefree. Perhaps that was why the townspeople were so unphased by their noise earlier.

After the picture is passed around for all to see, you clear your throat and jerk your head away again.

“Go on, clear out now.” Far more happily the children bid each other goodbye, a few moving in pairs or trios as they split off in separate directions.

Bucky is all too aware that you’re still standing near him, and he focuses on cleaning his camera lens with his sleeve.

“Thank you.” You say kindly, with a slight bow of your head, and he finds himself shrugging and shaking his head.

“It’s alright, really.” he pauses, and then;

“Are you their teacher?” He doesn’t expect the surprised laugh you let out, shaking your own head vigorously.

“Hell no. I don’t have the patience for that! We were just walking the same way.” Bucky blinks, not expecting your language, though he finds it endearing, a little more grounding. He laughs.

“I see.”

“You’re the soldier, yes? From America?” The subject change catches him out for a moment, but he’s nodding a moment later.

“Sergeant James Barnes, ma’am.” He almost salutes, doesn’t and then thinks better of it, giving you one anyway. You cock your head at him, an amused smile pulling at your lips.

“I thought soldiers wore uniforms?” You fold your hands in front of you, and Bucky blinks, down at his casual civilian clothes, and then back at you.

“Oh, I, well, I do, but only when I’m working, these days…” You laugh good-naturedly at his awkward delivery.

“I was only teasing. I’ve heard from Rome that soldiers spend just as much time out of their uniforms as in them.” You say it easily, with a playful chuckle, but the risque connotations don’t go over his head, his eyebrows lifting high in his surprise.

Were you… flirting…? Or was this just how you were?

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, it was lovely to meet you.” You’re stepping back, giving him another smile (were you always smiling? He wants to know, now), and a little wave before you begin to turn. Bucky flounders at your fast retreat and panics.

“Uh, wait!” You look back, and he swallows.

“What’s… what’s your name?” You chuckle and push your hair behind your shoulder.

“Cristina.” You tell him and he repeats it, trying to roll the ‘r’ like you do, which makes you laugh again.

“People usually just call me Nina.” You offer a moment later and Bucky nods, before giving you his own, more commonly used nickname.

“Bucky?” You repeat, almost unsure, but when he nods, mouth dry at hearing his name on your lips, you smile and nod.

“Bucky. I will see you around, Bucky.” And with that, he watches dumbly, awestruck in his place as you float out of the plaza.

—-

The warm breeze carries through the open windows of your house, sending the scents from the kitchen below wafting around the rooms. You’d already finished your work for the day, and the chores your mother assigned you, and with a slight pep in your step, you finish tying the scarf around your hair and grab your book.

“Mama? I’m going to read!” You call out, pausing for a moment to listen for her reply. You hear a faint humming above the radio and quickly take your leave, skipping down the front steps of your home and out of the walled front courtyard.

Montecarra is hot and warm, like it had been every other day this week, but you don’t mind. The streets you pass through on the way to your nook are quiet, with only the occasional Nonna in her garden, or returning from the markets. There had been more people here once, a long time ago, and in your childhood days you remember visitors, passing through and admiring your home on their way to other places. You missed that deeply, but push it from your mind, trying not to sour your day at the thought of your already sleepy town becoming sleepier.

You reach your normal place quickly, little plaza toward the outskirts of town, many of the houses here empty now. One of the homes, a double storied one like your own, has a tall garden wall that sits in the shade of the tall tree behind it. Midway through the wall, high enough to take some effort to climb, sit a series of three empty archways, glassless windows that give a view of the overgrown garden within, and from the other side of the little square beyond.

Nobody came to this part of town, not anymore, and in recent years, you’d found it the perfect place to sit unbothered. Tucking your book under your arm, you hitch your skirt up a little, and use one of the roots that climbs and decorates the wall with green ivy as a foothold. The archway isn’t high, but you certainly couldn’t get to it without a little help.

Once situated, you lean back against the pillar, bringing your feet up in front of you, and rest your book against your thighs and knees. You lose yourself quickly in the words, devouring the stories of far away places, detectives and mystery and murder. When the Nazi’s had been here, you hadn’t been allowed to freely enjoy such things. You’d been hidden away, scared everyday would be your last, but it had never come. They had left, and you had been safe again once more.

It was why you enjoyed sitting outside, in the sun and warm, basking in a world that was purely yours again.

Well, not just yours.

A quiet, but pointed cough makes you jump slightly, and you whip your head to find the source, shutting your book on instinct before your eyes find him, and you smile.

“Good Afternoon, Sergeant Barnes!” You greet, and the man returns your smile, lifting his hand briefly. You had known he was coming of course, your whole town did. He was helping the men rebuild the old schoolhouse, though he seemed to have finished that task for the day, as you had finished yours.

He was a handsome man, with dark hair and blue eyes, his pale skin lightly tanned on his face and arms from days in the Italian sun. He was young, though older than you, likely nearing his late twenties if you were correct. You hadn’t known who he was during the war, but afterwards, you’d had plenty of newspaper fodder to read. You think most of it must have been trash though, because the man the magazines and gossip columns had labelled as a charming, suave ladies man could not be the same one that stood before you now.

“Bucky. Bucky is fine, Senora Cristina.” He replies, his eyes dropping a little as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Well then you must call me Nina.” You reply, keeping up your smile for when he looks back at you. When he realises you haven’t looked away from him, he quickly averts his gaze again, but clears his throat and looks around the empty plaza, waving a hand.

“Quiet spot?” He asks, and you turn from where your back is pressed against the brick, swinging your legs over the side of the wall to face him properly. You nod.

“Yes. The people who lived in this part left. We don’t know if they’ll come back or…” You trail off, pursing your lips briefly, but shake your head. No. No time to dwell.

“It’s a good place to come to be alone.”

“Oh, I can— I can leave if you’d lik—” Bucky’s face falls into anxiety stricken concern as he gestures with his thumb toward the little road you think he must have come from, but you cut him off quickly, laughing.

“I was not attempting to chase you away!” You tell him, and he drops his hand back to his side. For a few seconds he just looks at you, like he’s unsure of what to say, and so you fill the silence the best you can.

“How do you like Montecarra?” Bucky nods quickly, his body language immediately relaxing somewhat. You wonder if you make him nervous because he’s unsure how to speak to women, or if it might be something else.

“It’s beautiful. I haven’t been able to stop looking, you know? We don’t have towns like this where I’m from.” You smile at his clear enthusiasm, and cock your head. You’d never been to America, you’d never even really been more than a few miles from your home, so you can’t imagine what towns must look like there.

“The people are friendly, I mean, everyone is friendly everywhere, but the people here are… they don’t seem to want to be around me twenty-four-seven.” He adds, and then clamps his mouth shut, as if he’d forgotten who he was talking to. You think maybe he hasn’t been around friends in a while. You shrug, and chortle.

“Oh, that’s just how we are. My Papa used to say that in the cities, nobody can leave each other alone because they don’t make real connections… but here and other small towns, we’re all we have, and after a while, you just get sick of each other.”

Bucky laughs, loudly and heartily, and you think it is a lovely sound. He says something in English, you think you hear ‘christ’, but he sobers, still smiling.

“I’d say that’s about right.”

“Though, you should be wary of signora Cavalli… she’s like a venus flytrap, you know?” You say seriously, but with a conspiratorial edge so that he knows you are only mostly joking. Bucky cocks his head in confusion, but chuckles.

“A what?!”

“A venus flytrap! You know! It’s a plant that looks all bright and colourful, but when bugs land on it it snaps shut!” You clap your hands together in demonstration.

“And then it eats them.”

“Are you… are you telling me signora Cavalli is going to eat me?” Bucky asks, eyebrows high and you take a moment to dramatically look him over.

“No. I don’t think you are her type. But she will start a conversation that will not end until either you or her dies, and trust me, she’s really old.” Bucky laughs again, hand on his belly this time, his head thrown back again, and you can’t help but break ‘character’ to laugh with him.

“Right. Avoid signora Cavalli. Gotcha.” He says as he calms, and again, he seems to have relaxed even more, the little pull that you had noticed between his brow yesterday, and earlier, even when he wasn’t frowning, had all but disappeared.

“Sounds like I need your guidance here. Clearly.” He continues, and you can’t help but feel excited by the prospect. You nod vigorously, and hop down from your ledge.

“Oh, definitely. I have lived here my whole life, I know all there is to know!” You tuck your book back under your arm and step nearer.

“I can show you around! There is more to Montecarra than there looks!” You pause and shrug.

“Well, a little more, at least.” Bucky appears torn for a moment, his face scrunching back into a polite concern as he holds his hands up.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, signora, I mean, Nina…” You roll your eyes and fold your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, signore, but there isn’t exactly anybody else my age around here… really you’d be doing me the favour…” He opens his mouth, but you quickly beckon him in a direction before he can argue, and you hear a faint sigh, and a few seconds later he’s matching your easy pace.

“I did notice that, actually…” He confirms, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. His hands are back in his pockets, and he walks a respectable distance next to you.

“Well, there weren’t all that many to begin with but all the boys went off to fight, and the girls either got married and moved away, or left to study somewhere else.” You try to keep your voice light and airy, try not to betray your jealousy or sadness.

You had wanted to move to Paris and study, or London, anywhere, but the shadows of war had already begun, and it had been too uncertain. Looking back, you were reluctantly glad you had not been elsewhere. Your mother had needed you too much.

You come to another small courtyard, with a large tree at its center. It was one of the oldest in the town, and this part of the village had been built around it, as was obvious from the uneven and cracked stone ground, where the roots had grown large and disruptive.

You sling a hand around the trunk, slowly circling it in a careful swing, and Bucky oddly does the same, moving opposite you, so you are always on different sides. Oftentimes you were called childish or immature by others in Montecarra, though they never meant you harm by it. You were young at heart, and always would be. You know it was not proper for young women your age to be so restless, but you couldn’t sit still. Even just walking normally was a little boring after a while. You think it’s nice that this American man doesn’t ask you to stop or to stand still.

“You didn’t though?” Bucky asks, and then hurries to clarify.

“Get married or move away, I mean.” You chortle and lean a little further forward to see his face better as you both continually circle the tree.

“I was not good enough in school,” You lie.

“And no man would have me.” You laugh as you say it, not really meaning it. When there had been boys around Montecarra, you’d had no shortage of prospects, though how many of them would have actually married you was another question entirely.

Bucky scoffs, making an odd noise in his throat, and he fixes you with a look of disbelief.

“Well I know that can’t be right…” You smile, but look away at his kind words, before another thought hits you, and you stop moving, holding onto either side of the tree as you lean around it slightly.

“Montecarra must be exceptionally boring for you.”

Bucky stops moving too, and instead leans his side against the trunk, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at you casually, eyebrow raised in question.

“To be in such a small town, with no women who aren’t married. Compared to Paris or Rome, I mean.”

You gasp suddenly then, and quickly switch sides, making Bucky have to turn too, and you can’t suppress your cheeky grin.

“Unless of course it’s married women who you’re after. No need to worry about commitment there.” You wiggle your eyebrows and Bucky’s face turns into a molten mess of amusement and bashfulness, sprinkled with pink cheeks.

He uncrosses his arms awkwardly and clears his throat uncomfortably, and you chortle, shaking your head. There was certainly part of him you could see being charming and suave, but for the most part, Sergeant James Barnes just seemed sweet. Eventually he just laughs too, also shaking his head, and he looks off for a moment, before he carefully turns to mirror your hold on the tree, leaning just slightly around it to look at you.

He still wears a coy look of meekness when he shrugs.

“You’re a woman who isn’t married, aren’t you?” He says softly, carefully, as if he’s not sure how you will respond, and does not wish to offend.

Offence is the last reaction in your mind though, instead you feel as if the world stops for a moment, and all that exists is you, this man, and the tree between you. Despite the carefulness of his words, his expression is a little harder, his gaze locked on yours more intense and you have to force yourself to look away, pulling back from the tree just to catch your breath and your rapidly beating heart.

Perhaps Sergeant James Barnes was sweet, but Bucky Barnes was a little more savoury than that. Suddenly, some of the things you’d read make more sense, and you find yourself reconsidering your interactions. Had he specifically sought you out? Or had he just been wandering and it was a happy coincidence. You lean toward the latter but perhaps he had hoped to see you again after your brief meeting yesterday?

You wipe these thoughts from your mind as Bucky too steps away from the tree, and fix him with an innocent smile and a shrug of your shoulder as you begin stepping backwards, ready to move along.

“I am.” You say simply, unsure of what else you even could say, but the moment seems to pass, and Bucky finally tears his eyes from you, watching his step as he makes to follow you again, down another narrow street.

You make light small talk with him as you move into busier parts of town, still a little shaken from his flirting (if that was what it was). He doesn’t seem to mind, and you realise you don’t need to fill the silence all of the time. He seems content to just look and watch, but when you do speak, to tell him something, or point out a particular shop, he listens carefully.

When you make it to one of the central courtyards of Montecarra, near the fountain where you had met him yesterday, you see that the afternoon sellers have set up at the market stalls where you’d been only this morning, helping sell. Jobs and money were hard to come by in your town, everything was so small and insular, and in the aftermath of the war, people had cared less about money to pay for goods and services, but rather taking care of each other in any way they could.

You were luckier than most towns, you’d been spared the massive damage of other places, but with resources still low, and many people still getting back on their feet, feeding each other had become a community job. Bakers would gladly accept trade for their bread, and doing chores or work for others had become a reliable way to not only give back but to earn too. The shops that had managed to remain open were supportive where they could be, and it made your heart swell several sizes to know that the war had not driven your people apart.

Bucky seems to take in the sights and smells of the markets with a dreamily like gaze, his eyes roaming over the leftover morning breads, some meats and vegetables that had not been bought or traded earlier in the week and where now for sale far cheaper.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that you have not yet eaten since your breakfast, and you groan. Usually you’d have set off home for lunch, or brought something with you, before returning to your nook, but being with Bucky had distracted you.

He looks down at you in response to your groan and you scrunch your nose.

“I would suggest we eat, but I left my purse at home.” You explain. Bucky blinks, and looks over at the food, then back at you.

“If you’re hungry, I can, I have my—” You tune him out accidentally as your mind conjures up a thought, and stop suddenly, reaching out and grabbing Bucky’s arm in excitement. He stops speaking and stares down at you.

“I have a better idea…!” You say, grinning widely, and he cocks his head, looking slightly hesitant.

You release his arm only to grab the rolled sleeve of his shirt, pulling him along after you down a sidetreet.

“What— Where are we going…?” He asks, and then continues.

“And why do I feel like it’s going to be trouble?” You laugh loudly, and throw him a look over your shoulder, releasing his sleeve at last when you’ve led him through a maze of tiny alleys and narrow streets and out to the edge of town, near the main road he’d driven in on.

“Trust me.” You say, drawing out the words long and sing-songy.

“Give me reason to…” He mutters, but when you look over at him again, you can see he’s only playing the part of exasperated, his lips pulled up in the corners, and his eyes amused.

He follows you as you lead him up a long road, well away from town and towards where the fields and fields of orchards and vineyards begin. When you veer off the side of the road, toward one of the wooden fences, he stops.

“What are you doing?” He asks, a little more nervous than before, and you turn to face him fully.

“We’re going into the orchard to pick some fruit.” He fixes you with a squinted stare.

“Something tells me that we’re not supposed to do that…” You roll your eyes.

“Nobody will know. Besides, we’ll only take a few.” You bat your eyelashes the best you can manage and watch his resolve crumble. When he sighs, hanging his head while shaking it, you know you’ve got him, so you smile widely and quickly return to making your way up the fence.

Bucky at first seems concerned with you climb, moving quickly over to attempt to lend you a hand, but you hardly need it, lifting your skirt and easily scaling the posts before you land on the other side. Bucky stares at you for a moment longer, before planting his hands on the top piece of wood, and in one large jump, vaults the thing entirely.

You laugh at the sight, and cock your head.

“They teach you that in the army?” You tease, leading him away from where you might be spotted by the road, and into the thick rows of trees.

“Brooklyn, actually.” He tells you, and you spy him repeatedly looking over his shoulder and around, as if suspecting some kind of ambush. You pause, nearly causing him to walk into you, and put your hand on his arm again.

“Nobody is out here. It gets too hot in the afternoons, so they do all their daily harvesting in the mornings.” Bucky stares down at you, the little crease between his brows returning, but he nods at your words anyway.

Turning away from him, you once more gather up part of your skirt, lifting it well above a decent length, to use as a basket of sorts as you start inspecting some of the goods on ‘offer’.

“The peaches are especially good this time of year.” You say over your shoulder, reaching out to gently squeeze a few hanging from the nearest tree.

“I— What…?” Bucky asks, and when you look back at him, you see the vague pinkness back in his cheeks and refrain from rolling your eyes. Instead, you plaster on an innocent smile and hold up one of the fruits you’d plucked from the branch.

“The peaches. They’re very ripe right now. Montecarra always has the juiciest peaches. You can’t eat them without getting your fingers and mouth all sticky.” You look away then, placing the peach into your skirt and fight yourself to keep from laughing. Bucky remains quiet behind you, until you hear him let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Jesus fucking christ…” He mumbles in English, and you wipe the grin from your face before he can see it, as he finally steps closer to join you.

You end up with a nice collection of peaches, apples and some figs. You don’t take much, just a few, and by the time you’re walking the road back into town, your grumbling stomach is sated. You spent a few hours walking along the rows of trees, just talking and eating.

Before you properly enter Montecarra, Bucky tosses your peach pits, and you watch them fly through the air and disappear into some of the empty fields beyond. He looks down at you with a rather cute, proud and expectant smile, and you nod, clapping just slightly.

“Perhaps they will grow and we will have our own orchard.” You tell him, and he sniffs in amusement.

“Or we’ll have to explain where we got the seeds from in the first place.”

“Or that.” You laugh, nudging his side.

You notice he’d stopped keeping quite as large a distance between you when you walked, though you don’t know if it was conscious or not. The late afternoon sun bathes Montecarra in orange and red and shadows, and by the time you’ve walked across town to where you live, the sunset is well and truly in motion.

Sensing your time has come to an end, Bucky slows slightly, stopping when you turn back to him, and point to your house.

“I live here.” You tell him, and he shoves his hands in his pockets with a nod.

“My mama will expect me to help with dinner.” You explain further, though you aren’t sure why. You didn’t need a reason to part with him, it was early evening now and you’d spent the better half of five hours walking and talking and stealing fruit together.

You see Bucky’s eyes drift behind you, past the open archway of the wall that held your home behind it, and then back to you.

“Thanks for showing me around today. You didn’t have to.” He says and you smile, but shrug.

“Of course.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer before he nods, pulling a hand from his pocket to give you a parting wave.

“Goodnight.” He says softly, and turns, beginning to make his way back.

You step forward without thinking too much and call out, making him pause and look back at you.

“I— I work in the mornings, but you can always find me at the same place, where I was reading today. From about midday on. I’m always there… if you ever want to see me again.” You try to play it off cooler than you feel, shrugging a bit and giving him a nonchalant grin, but he only watches you.

Just as you start to feel discomfort creep in her shifts, dipping his chin slightly and cocking his head.

“I would like to see you again.” He says at last, and it’s just like earlier, around the tree. You feel a thick tension form between you, and even though he’s several meters away from you now, you feel like he may as well have been directly in front of you.

All you can manage is a nervous chuckle, dropping your eyes to the floor and anxiously tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Okay.” You say, and he must take that as your approval, because he smiles softly, and gives you one last parting nod before he walks away.

You watch him go for longer than you’d like to admit, right up until he disappears and you hear your mama call you from the front door.

—-

You see Bucky most days. After you had finished with your daily workload, you would return as normal to your little archway, only pretending to read until Bucky arrived. Sometimes he would bring his own book, and sit beside you in one of the opposite arches, but most days you spent walking aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing.

He would tell you about New York city, describing the streets and the buildings and the people in such detail you could see it in your mind. He’d show you pictures of places he’d been, other cities and towns in Italy and France and you’d been unable to keep from fawning dramatically over each.

You’d been warned by a few of the older local ladies, that American soldiers were notorious for the dalliances with girls, they’d have them and leave them, moving on to the next place as if it were nothing. But Bucky is different, you think. You weren’t so naive to think a man set on simply chasing what he wanted would change for just you, but Bucky never showed intention to chase. Not really.

He was kind, and sweet, and he never spoke to impress you like you’d seen with some boys before. He listened to you, asked for your opinions on subjects you spoke about and never assumed that you weren’t informed. You had revealed your love for reading to him, and he’d not complained once when you’d ranted for far too long about the plot of your newest book.

He never even tried to hold your hand, which was beginning to trouble you. You had given him plenty of opportunity, walking accidentally too close, and brushing your hand by his just slightly. He’d always apologised or ignored it, and you were becoming frustrated. It was not as if his flirting had stopped, when the opportunity arose he’d coyly spout sweet things that made your stomach churn something awful.

You look up from the page you’d been staring at for the past ten minutes without really seeing it, and blink. Perhaps you were wrong and he was just this way all of the time… but then you remember the moments of intense eye contact when he’d look at you and it felt like nothing else in the world existed at all.

No. no, you decide that perhaps you will have to give him a little push.

“Has d’Artagnan won the heart of Lady Constance yet? Or is love dead?” The voice, his voice, startles you so much you squeak, whipping around to find where Bucky has situated himself against the same wall your archway sits in, leaning on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest.

Today he hadn’t changed from his morning’s work, and you have to simply give yourself a moment to take in his uniform. It wasn’t the dress greens you’d seen on men in the newspapers, instead he wears a greeny-brown colour, the material slightly thicker in appearance, rougher almost. In lieu of the long dress coat, he wears a jacket that ends just over where you imagine his belt might be, cinching in his form rather nicely. His shirt bears the same colour as his suit, but his tie is a familiar khaki. Pins and medals and ribbons adorn his chest and you want to inspect each one up close, but you refrain.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart.” He flashes a smile, letting you know he’d noticed your long, admiring stare. Sunglasses cover his own eyes, refusing you access to their cool colour, and you hope he takes them off. Your mouth feels dry but you force yourself to shift to face him, hanging your legs over the side of the wall once more.

“Startled is not scared.” You correct, and watch as he pushes off from the wall casually, making his way to where you sit. He’s tall enough that should he so wish, he could climb into your archway no problem, but he doesn’t, simply resting his folded arms on the ledge next to your legs, looking up at you. At this angle, you can see behind his glasses, to where his eyes fixate on your face.

“You didn’t answer my question?” He probes and you have to think back, unsure of what he’d even asked you.

“Has d’Artagnan won over Lady Constance yet?” He reminds you, reaching out to pluck your copy of The Three Musketeers from your lap and study the cover.

“No, I was going to read more last night but the power went out again and I don’t trust myself not to fall asleep with a candle burning.” You sigh, pushing some hair from your eyes. Bucky places the book gently back down and hums.

“Did you come straight from work?” You ask, switching the subject, and as if he doesn’t notice his clothing, he peeks down at himself briefly, before he cocks his head and gifts you another grin.

“What, can’t a guy wear his uniform around a gal to impress her?” He counters, clearly joking. You scoff anyway and lightly shove his arm.

“I think I’m sick of military uniforms…” You had meant it as a continuation of his joke, but you mean the words far too much to avoid the melancholy that seeps in.

You force yourself to look away, and take a few deep breaths.

Bucky had gotten around to asking you the obvious question of how you, with your brown skin and ‘ethnic’ features, had not suffered during the war. You told him the truth; that your neighbours had hidden you and your mother in attics and basements for nearly five years.

He’d been quiet and pensive on your answer, before telling you he understood why you spent so much time in the ridiculously hot sun. He’d made you laugh, something that you hadn’t ever thought you could do when speaking about your time during the war.

A hand gently, feather-light, curls over your own in your lap, and it takes everything in you not to jump. When you look back at him, his features are sad and serious and he gives your fingers a squeeze.

“Me too, darlin’.”

You want to say something, to maybe turn your hand over and feel his palm against yours, but before you can he removes it from yours, pushing back off the wall.

“I had an idea earlier, when we were clearing the rubble away.” He extends his arm to you, waiting patiently for you to make the short jump down from your perch. Linking your arm with his, he turns you to begin walking, but reaches out and plucks your book from you, tucking it into his jacket.

“An idea? I’m not helping with the mess…” You tease, and he gives you a sideways look.

“No. Riccardo said if I were truly suffering so much in the heat, I should go to the beach.” You perk immediately, gasping softly. You hadn’t been to the beach in so long.

“The beach!” You repeat, and Bucky grins, pride showing clearly through at his effort to delight you.

“I was thinking we could grab my camera, and head on down for the afternoon. I don’t think I have anything to swim in but even just dipping my toes…” You’re already nodding frantically, pulling away from his arm as you clap and do a little jump. You really couldn’t help it, you hadn’t been down to the water in many years.

“Yes! Though, did he tell you how long a walk it was? We should be careful of it getting too dark, my mama has already started—”

“—We can just drive.” Bucky shrugs, and you pause, blinking. Yes, you knew he had a car the army lent him, you’d seen it once or twice even but…

“I’ve…” You trail off and stop speaking entirely, shaking your head, and trying to plaster back on your previous excitement, but Bucky had already seen the slight fall to your face, and he frowns.

“What? What’s wrong?” He steps forward, toward you a little, his hand absently out as if to take your arm, though he drops it a moment later.

“It’s nothing. It’s silly.” You attempt to brush him off but he only moves closer still, right up to you now, and this time, the tension isn’t the same as it had been before.

His head bows down toward you, his frame nearly cocooning yours, if anybody were to be standing behind him, they likely would not be able to see you. His hand does touch your arm this time, comforting, concerned and all of it makes your heart flutter like a million happy butterflies.

“I… It’s just that… I’ve never been in a car before.” You admit, and it really is a silly thing to make such a fuss over. Bucky must breathe a sigh of relief that your dramatics hadn’t been about something more serious, but you don’t see his expression or body language change at all for a few seconds.

“... Ever…?” When he does speak, there’s no amusement in his voice, no awe at how backwards and small your growing up had been that you’d never been in a car. He just… asks.

You shrug.

“We don’t need them here…” His face does relax a little, and he must realise how much he’s been crowding you because he clears his throat and shuffles back slightly, letting his hand leave your arm.

“Well… I think you’ll like it. It’s fast.” He says, before frowning.

“Not— not too fast.” He adds, and you have to smile.

“Well… Why don’t I go put my book away, I’ll find some bread and fixings and you can go change, and I will meet you at your cottage?” You suggest. You didn’t want to go all the way down to the beach without some sort of food, even if he said the trip would be fast in his car. It would also give you a chance to change from your day dress into something that you wouldn’t mind getting a little wet or sandy.

Bucky nods.

“Yeah. Okay. You know where it is?” You roll your eyes.

“Of course.” He hangs his head a little, and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Small town, grew up here. Got it.” You laugh. He’d mentioned once how even though he’d spent his whole life in Brooklyn, knew the streets and the major locations like the back of his hand, there were still places he’d never know where to even start looking for.

You part ways then, and quickly hurry home, the excitement thrumming through your veins once again. Not only were you going to get to go to the beach, but you were going to ride in a car!

You toss your book onto your bed without a second thought, quickly undressing and slipping on a lighter, older dress. It’s faded pale blue told it’s age, but the fabric was thinner, meaning you would have no problem if it got wet. You decide not to bother with stockings, removing both them and your garter in favour of feeling the sand with your bare feet instead, and slip your shoes back on.

Before you leave your bedroom, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and pause. Turning your face from side to side, you inspect your features carefully. You never bothered with makeup, it was expensive and you’d only end up sweating it off, but your eyes do linger on your lips for a moment.

Creeping upstairs, you sneak into your mother’s bedroom. She was out for coffee at one of your neighbours, still, you feel nervousness take hold when you find the small golden tube in her drawer. Taking a deep breath, you uncap the lipstick and lean forwards for a better view, before carefully swiping the deep red colour across your lower lip. You follow suit with the upper, fixing it here and there, and swiping to try and neaten it up, but when you stand back to inspect yourself, you groan in frustration.

You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, and your painted lips and bareface didn’t communicate that at all. Grabbing a tissue, you quickly work to remove the makeup, rubbing at your lips until the bulk of the colour is off. However, when you stop to check again, you find the red has somewhat stained your skin. It only really adds a subtle flushed red over your usually brown lips, but it's still noticeable, and you panic, grabbing another tissue and trying again to no avail.

Time ticks by and you check your watch, not wanting to make Bucky wait too long, and so you pocket the stained tissues and take a last look in the mirror. Your shoddy clean up job would have to do. At least the stains were on your lips and not around them.

In the kitchen you gather up a small selection of items in a basket, just some bread and butter and homemade jam, and tuck an old blanket over the top to secure it all, and so that you could sit on it later. Checking everything one last time, you slide the basket to the crook of your arm and close up your house behind you.

You have to stop yourself from skipping as you make your way through the streets, smiling and greeting those who pass you politely and not like a mad woman. By the time you make it to Bucky’s little cottage, you can already see him leaning back against the car, waiting. He straightens when he sees you, smiling as you slow down, feeling almost hesitant about approaching the car.

“Here, lemme take this…” You let him grab the basket from you and watch him open one of the back doors, placing it on the floor, behind a seat. When he shuts the door again with a click, he turns to look at you in a both expectant and patient manner.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the other side of the car, and you let him lead you around it, swallowing as he pulls open the front side door for you.

“There you go. You know, you’re lucky this is your first car ride. This is a nice car, apparently.” You let Bucky take your hand to help you in, and for the few seconds after he’s shut your door behind you, and you see him jog around to the driver’s seat, you feel an immense awkwardness settle over you.

When he’s climbed in beside you, he gestures to something above your head.

“Here, that’s your seat belt. I know a lotta people don’t bother with them, but… better safe than sorry, right?” You nod, and reach out to grab the little buckle, not realising that the sun had been baking the metal since it had come up.

You rip your fingers away from it with a hiss, cradling them to your chest. Bucky jerks and is immediately leaning over to help you.

“Shit! Sorry, I— I forgot to tell you to be careful of the— here, look, you gotta grab the plastic part…” Your slightly burnt fingers are all but forgotten when Bucky leans right over you, directly into your space as he pulls at the belt, drawing it down and across your body, to your hip.

You watch him click the buckle together and blink up at him when he leans back, face still pulled in a wince.

“You okay?”

“Yes… I just wasn’t expecting it… it didn’t really hurt that much…” He looks like he wants to say something more, his eyes darting down to where you lower your hand back to your lap, and your face, but he eventually settles with a nod.

“Okay. Okay.” He repeats, twisting to face frontwards in his seat again as he begins readying the car. You watch him fiddle with the keys, jumping slightly when the engine roars to life all around you, but you only chuckle at the look Bucky sends you. He lifts one hand from the wheel, to hold onto a tall gear stick in the center console, shifting it a few times before you feel the car begin to move.

Despite your nerves, you can’t help but feel the excitement in your bones, and as Bucky starts to slowly drive along the outer roads of the town, toward the western most side, you can’t stop yourself from staring out the window.

It wasn’t as if you’d never seen any of these places before, but it felt different now. You feel Bucky’s eyes flick over to you every so often, a low chuckle you can barely hear above the car reaching you, but you’re too enthralled to do more than return his smile briefly.

You settle down a bit as you hit the main road. It's still a very new experience to be moving so quickly down a road you’d only ever been along at a walk. Bucky seems content in the quiet, but about halfway through the trip, he changes his hand on the steering wheel, to reach down for something on the side of his door. You watch him fumble for a moment, before he behinds winding a little lever, and you turn your gaze to where the window now rolls down, filling the car with fresh air and the sound of light wind.

“You’ve got one too,” He briefly takes his eyes from the road to point your own window lever out to you, and excitedly, you rush to unwind it. You laugh then, like a child, and lean forward to get a better view, to feel the wind blow over your face. It doesn’t last long though, the second you feel your hair get thrown about, you yip, ducking away with another laugh, but attempting to smooth back your hair again.

Bucky grins over at you, and he shuffles, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, resting his elbow on the window frame casually. With his spare hand, he rests it on his thigh, fingers tapping.

“Lotta women wear a scarf, to keep their hair from getting wrecked…” He tells you, and you make a note for if you ever ride in the car again.

“You were right.” You tell him, finally sitting back in your seat and relaxing. Bucky cocks his head, briefly glancing at you, but mostly he keeps his eyes forward.

“Hmn?”

“I do like this.”

You arrive at the beach in no time at all, the lone western road leading right down to the water. Bucky brings the car to a stop away from the road, on a patch of grass that separates the rest of the land from the sand dunes. On your right, some ways away, the land lifts, creating a rocking cliffside that encloses this section of beach neatly. You knew from your childhood that there were some caves accessible, but you’d always been told to stay well away.

Bucky grabs the basket from the backseat, and you wait for him to catch up with you before you begin treading down onto the sand. The sand is hot and pale, and the smell of sea water calls you, but as much as you’d love to throw yourself toward it, you direct Bucky to a small cropping of rocks and boulders that rested near the dunes, far enough back that the incoming tide wouldn’t reach them, but near enough to the water to be sure your things would be kept safe.

Bucky follows your lead as you kick your shoes off, climbing to the top of the largest boulder easily, it's jagged surface perfect for climbing, as long as you didn’t step on a spike. The boulder stands almost up to Bucky’s chest, and was quite large from a top side view. You beckon him to give you your basket and he watches as you quickly lay out the blanket. When he can see you settling, he joins you, scaling the rock quickly, and taking a seat beside you, where you’ve now begun to pull the bread and spreads from the basket.

“This is a nice spot.” He says scanning the horizon critically. You see his gaze turn up towards the nearby cliffs, scrutinizing them thoroughly with slightly squinted eyes. His face is so intense, you can’t help but look too, wondering what it was he was seeing, but when you turn back to him, he snaps out of it, plastering an easy smile on his face.

You open your mouth to question what he’d been looking at when he grabs the jame, and turns it over in his hands.

“Homemade?” He asks, clearly excited by the prospect, and even though you still want to know what he’d just been thinking about, you let it go, recognising a subject change when you saw one.

“Yes. My mama is very good at cooking. She cooks a lot for other people.” You tell him, buttering a thick slice of bread before handing it to him.

“Do you?” He puts the jam down as he takes the bread and a butter knife from you, beginning to spread some of the sweet, jellied fruit. You scrunch your nose.

“I don’t cook a lot. Mama says I should do more.” You roll your eyes and Bucky snorts.

“Why?”

“So that when I get married my husband won’t be displayed… or something.” You bring one of your legs to a bent position, like you were crossing your legs but only chose to do one, and shift your center of balance to be more comfortable.

The blanket was a nice touch, but it didn’t make the rock you sat on any more homey.

“I don’t understand… why women have to do so much to keep a man. If they love you, shouldn’t they not care about how well you cook or how clean your house is?” You glance at him, genuinely asking. Bucky was, as you well knew, a man, he may have insight you did not. He frowns, mulling over his thoughts as he chews his mouthful.

“I think some guys want a housekeeper more than a partner. I don’t think a lot of mother’s help that, either.” It’s your turn to frown and you cock your head, gesturing he go on. He adjusts a little, and looks off as he speaks, only glancing back at you a few times as he explains.

“It’s a cycle, right? A lady gets married, she looks after her husband, they have kids, a boy and a girl,” He pauses, takes a small bite, chews, swallows and continues.

“Now, as the girl gets older, mother starts to prepare her for when she’ll get married, so she takes on some of the household chores. The son however, he gets looked after right up until he leaves the nest. His food is cooked for him, his room is cleaned, his clothes washed…” You start understanding what he means, and nod slowly.

“By the time he’s serious about looking for a girl, he thinks they should be how his ma and pa were. I’m sure there’s love and affection, but in his mind, if she’s not doing those same things he grew up with, then how much can she really love him?” He ends with a shrug, looking at you, and you have to admit you’re genuinely surprised by his honest point of view.

But he sits up a little straighter then, and points to himself with the bread still in his hand.

“My mother would never let me get away with that.” He tells you solemnly, and you chortle at his deeply serious, over the top expression.

“Oh?”

“No ma’am. When I was sixteen she showed me how to use the machines at the laundromat, and if my room wasn’t spick and span at the end of the week I’d get it.” You laugh at the thought of a woman with Bucky’s same eyes making him remake his bed.

“And cooking?” You press, and Bucky shrugs again.

“I grew up watching her cook, helping her in the kitchen… I ain’t sayin’g I’m good. But I wouldn’t starve.” You laugh again, his stories uplifting on your general view of how things were ‘Supposed To Be’.

“Anyway, the point is, the only thing that makes a good husband or wife is that you care about one another. Everything else is negotiable.” You grin, and nod, look out at the water as he words sink in, before you sharply side eye him.

“Everything except fidelity. I’d cut off my man’s—” You cut yourself off before you can say too much, but Bucky has already begun howling with laughter, leaning all the way back to rest on his elbows, he places a hand to his chest as he guffaws gleefully.

When he calms down, still snickering quietly he nods several times to himself and gives you a look.

“I don’t doubt you for a second, sweetheart.” Your chest flutters again at not just the pet name, he’d taken to using various ones, but the softness in his voice when he says it. It makes you nervous, it makes your stomach feel like the rolling waves of the ocean before you are happening simultaneously in there too.

“Right, well. Let's cool off, huh?”

Bucky rolls his pant legs up to just above his knees before he treads into the shallows, and you lift your skirt just a little as you join him. You wallow about in the water for some time, talking about nothing in particular. At one point, he realises he’d left his camera in the car, and races back up to get it, returning with a piece of photo paper already developing in his fingers.

“Took one from the dunes. It’s a nice view.” He explains as you lean over to peer at the little print. You can make out your figure, distant in the photo.

Bucky takes several more pictures, of the cliffs, of the long expanse of shoreline on the other side… You let him be for a while, moving back up to the rock and the blanket, perching yourself on the edge as you just take in the cool sea breeze and watch Bucky move about, deeply focused.

It was sweet really, though you don’t know how many of the shots look the same.

The warm sun and your general relaxed mood lull you to lie back, fixating your gaze on the blue skies and clouds above. Your skin grows warm and a little moist under such direct sunlight, but it feels nice. You aren’t sure how long you lie there for, you even doze off for a little bit, but some time later, you hear Bucky approaching.

“Can I take your picture?” He asks as you sit up, shielding your eyes for a moment as you do.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” You want to protest that he shouldn’t waste his photo paper on you, but he’s already stepping back and bringing the camera up to check if he’s too close or far.

“Wait, let me move.” You tell him, shifting to sit side on, with your feet on the rock and your knees bent up, like you would sit in your reading nook. Bucky waits for you like you ask, adjusting a little notch on his camera before he lifts it back to his eye, peering through. You expect him to take the photo right away but instead you see his lips part and his tongue swipe out to wet them as he swallows and draws the device away again.

“Uh, your— your skirt sweetheart, it's…” He trails off and gestures at his own thigh, prompting you to glance down at yourself.

Oh.

With your legs up like this, and perhaps with the help of a little sea breeze, your dress had shifted far up the length of your leg, far more than what was proper or should be photographed, and yet, your mind begins to whir.

You cock your head innocently, and hook your finger under the hem, drawing it back even further, until almost the whole side of your leg was on display. As you do, you pop your shoulder forward and rest your chin on it, grinning widely, invitingly.

Bucky just stares for several moments, and you see him swallow again. He seems to fumble with bringing the camera back to his face, and you see his mouth in what you’re certain is English cussing. It only makes your grin that much wider.

He takes the picture, lowering the camera immediately to catch the photo it spits out, though, he keeps glancing back up at you. You only flutter your eyelashes as best you can and make sure to fix your skirt somewhat. You sit forward again, and rest your hands either side of your legs, leaning toward where Bucky still stands.

“May I see?” You ask, and he jerks, starting toward you right away.

“Y--yeah. Of course…” You note with a quiet snicker how he stands at least two feet away from you when he holds out the photograph, and you take it from him, inspecting it.

“This is a good one.” You tell him.

“Yep. Yeah. It is.” He’s aware you’re teasing him now, and you give him a smile over the top of the picture.

“You won’t throw it away?”

“Why… why the hell would I throw it away?” You shrug and hold it out to give back.

“I don’t know…”

Bucky reaches out for it, but just before he can take it from you, you pull it back.

“On second thoughts, I don’t know if you can be trusted with this.” His face resembles a rain cloud, his frown confused and deep.

“What?”

“I think it might end up in the bottom of a box somewhere… I should keep it.” Your lip quirks, and he can see the cogs turning as he realises you’re only playing. He rolls his eyes and goes to grab it from you again, but you pull it away again.

Before he can corner you where you sit, you jump off the rock, ducking to the side as he lunges, making you squeal.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me have it…” You keep moving backwards, even as you turn to face him, the photo clutched to your chest. Bucky has turned to pursue you, though he’s only walking, hands on his hips.

“You’ll have to catch me!” You take off running, unable to keep from laughing as you do, Bucky’s own chortling reaching you as he gives chase.

You duck and weave out of his reach, and even though he’s far bigger and fitter than you, you were smaller, and the drag of the sand didn’t affect you as much. He almost gets you twice, his fingers grazing your dress, and when he does finally catch you, it’s with his arms around your middle, seizing you mid stride and pulling you back.

The momentum sends you both tumbling to the sand, your back hitting it lightly. Bucky falls over you, though he catches himself before he can crush you proper. All you can do is laugh, breathless from the chase and from the fall, and most certainly from the fact Bucky now lays atop you.

He’s laughing too, his face close and his breathe warm. He shifts to lift one hand and pluck the photo from your fingers, still held to your chest, trapped their by his own body. He’s still smiling when he makes a show of placing the photo in his top pocket, and buttoning it close, and then he drops his hand, resting it back in the sand by your head.

“I caught you.” He says simply, and all you can do is nod dumbly. His eyes fall to your mouth, and you suddenly remember the lipstick debacle. You’re about to make an excuse, or explain what had happened, when he leans in, dropping his lips to your own softly. You don’t mean to, but you gasp quietly, heat pooling in your face when you feel Bucky smile, and hear his light chuckle.

He doesn’t stop though, and you gladly return the kiss at last, lifting your chin so he could reach you easier or have more of you, you don’t know. Bucky shifts over you, his knee digging into the sand as he lifts some of his weight off of you, but before you can complain, he’s holding your face, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

When you part, reluctantly, you’re all too aware of how heavy you’re breathing, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Bucky’s eyes drop to watch for a moment, and you feel goosebumps crawl over your skin, but he looks away, moving to get off of you.

“Uhm… that okay?” He asks, scratching the back of his head a little awkwardly. You’re still just lying in the sand, watching him and trying to catch your breath.

He stands, and leans down to offer you a hand that you accept. You let him pull you to your feet, and by that time you’ve gotten at least a semblance of your sanity back. He’s looking at you cautiously, concerned maybe, but you intend to rectify that.

He hardly has time to catch you as you jump for him, legs wrapped around his middle, your arms around his neck, Bucky lets out a loud, hearty laugh as he makes to secure his hold on you. You lean in and kiss him again, heated at first, but then softer, until you’re only peppering little pecks to his lips.

“I’m gonna go with that being okay, then.” He confirms to himself. You giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and realise he’d been walking the whole time he’d been carrying you. He sets you down atop the rock, hands gliding under where he’d been holding your legs, before quickly removing them, like he didn’t want to overstep.

“You had better not lose that picture.” You warn, making him chuckle, and pat his pocket.

“Oh, trust me darlin’. It’s not going anywhere.”

The sun had already begun to set, and so you make quick work of packing up the small amount of belongings you brought. As you walk back to the car, Bucky carries the basket in one arm, and with the other, he reaches out to take your hand, firmly and securely, interlocking your fingers, and you feel your whole being ascend.

He doesn’t let go of your hand in the car either, reaching out to hold it there too, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh. It’s all too short however, and far too soon he’s parking the vehicle and helping you out.

“I’ll walk you back.” He tells you and you frown.

“What? No, you’re already home, I can—”

“—I’ll walk you back.” He says again, firmer, but with a playfulness that stops you from arguing further.

You wait for him to get your basket from the backseat, and when he does join you around at the rear of the car, his face lights up in realisation.

“Oh! Wait. Hold this for a sec…” He gently thrusts the basket into your hands and you blink, watching him jog into the cottage.

He reappears a few minutes later, carrying something long and cylindrical in his hand, and as he approaches you again, he flips it, catching it smoothly.

“Flashlight. For… for if your power goes out again…” He drops it in your basket before he takes it from you again, and you’re so genuinely touched by the gesture you’re frozen for a few seconds.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky frowns, cocking his head, but you snap out of it, leaning in to wrap your arms around his neck, only a hug this time. His free arms wraps around you instantly, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever get over how nice it feels to be held.

“Thank you. That’s very kind…” You say when you pull back. He just smiles at you, before offering you his arm, and walking you home.

—-

He takes you on a picnic.

It’s such a quaint idea that when he mentions it to you one afternoon, after kissing you goodbye on your doorstep, you can’t help but feel your eyes light up like two cartoonish hearts.

Bucky had assured you he would source the meal and perhaps some wine, but he’d need your basket once more, and the next day you find yourself lounging lazily under the shade of a tree, in the empty fields outside of town.

He’d brought bread, fruit and a bottle of red wine that you’d be very excited by right up until you’d had your first taste.

Bucky burst out in laughter at your expression, nose scrunched and brow furrowed, and he gracefully takes your glass from your hand.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it's an acquired taste…” He chortles, and you gladly let him pour what's left of your drink into his own, but you notice he doesn’t really touch it throughout lunch.

You talk for hours, clearing up the blanket so you can lie down next to one another and gaze at the cloudy blue sky. You ask Bucky to tell you once more about New York City, and as he speaks you gaze at him, gesturing wildly with his hands and smiling back at you every so often.

He was so pretty, for a boy, his eyes so blue, hair dark and lovely and smooth looking. Even his stubbly chin and cheeks, where you could clearly see he’d shaved just this morning look nice, and without really thinking, you reach out and brush the backs of your fingers over his jaw.

Bucky stops speaking, turning his head slightly to regard you softly, but you don’t stop. From the way he spoke about the war and missing his home, you think maybe it has been a while since he’d felt such gentle touches.

“See somethin’ you like, darlin’?” His smirk is barely a smirk, it's far too soft for that, but there’s still a hint of cheekiness in his gaze that draws you in. Laughing quietly, you rise to your elbow, leaning into his side where he’d previously been lying a respectable distance from you and press your lips to his jaw, then his cheek, and at last his lips.

Bucky kisses you back immediately, like he always did, lips moving softly against your own, carefully cupping the side of your face and pulling you down against him even further. Your heart races when he sits up without breaking apart from you, pushing you back so your positions are reversed. Out here you were practically alone, and even if somebody did come driving down the main road, with the tall grass nobody would be able to see you.

You wrap your hands up behind his head, tugging him down more, until he’s leaning against you fully, his forearms encasing either side of your head, a knee slipping between your own as your tongue slips between his lips. Your nearly come apart thena nd there when he moans, muffled by your kiss, but erotic all the same, and he seems to move more feverishly, kissing your quicker, bearing down against you harder.

You resist the urge to wrap a leg around him, but instead let your fingers scratch gently at the back of his neck, feeling yourself sink further and further into bliss with each tiny stroke of his tongue against yours, and each press of his clearly hardening length between your thighs.

You almost unhook your hands from his neck to lift your dress when he pulls back. At first he simply lays his forehead against your own, his eyes shut tight, and you watch him with rising disappointment and heavy breathing as he gently shifts his weight off of you, and dips his lips to kiss the tip of your nose, and then chastley at your lips.

“I uh… this probably isn’t a good idea…” You deflate, but push it aside. If he did not wish to go further, you wouldn’t pressure him. Still, the gentle ache between your thighs resists, begging for friction, for satisfaction. Bucky looks down at you, lips kissed raw and pupils dilated and it takes everything in you not to go for his pants then and there. He smooths down what he can of your hair, tucking some wilder pieces behind your ear before he kisses your nose again, and lays back down beside you.

On the walk back, the both of you are oddly silent, and although it isn’t uncomfortable, you still don’t like the awkwardness. You always felt like you could be truthful with Bucky, and you didn’t want to change that now, so tugging on his hand a little you slow your pace.

“I would have had sex with you, you know?” You squint at him and he blinks rapidly, face blushing quickly as he checks around to make sure there was nobody else present.

“Wha— I wasn’t—”

“—I’m not a virgin. I know what I’m doing.” You further assert, and he only continues to cough awkwardly, trying to reign in his clear embarrassment.

“Men aren’t the only ones who like sex. You always think us women are so eager to wait and ‘save ourselves’.” You roll your eyes then, and walk past him.

You don’t look back, but soon enough he’s hurrying to fall in beside you once more, taking your hand again even as he swallows.

“I never said you were, I just… I guess I’m not used to ladies talkin’ about it so… well, at all…” You side-eye him wryly and shrug.

“Look around, Bucky. In a town this small, there isn’t much else to do except each other. But all the boys have left now…” You shrug again, and this time Bucky laughs, letting out a slow puff of air.

“I guess.” He wears a look on his face like he wants to say something else, but he stays quiet. You slow down as you approach your home, and you’re about to ask when he stops just short of the steps leading into your front courtyard, and takes both your hands.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to take advantage. I’d want you to be sure.”

You purse your lips and roll your eyes again.

“I’m not a naive little girl.”

He laughs again and draws you near, quickly checking about to make sure no neighbour would spy the kiss he presses to your lips.

“And I’m not a boy.” The words send a thrill up your spine, and now more than ever you wish he hadn’t pulled away earlier. You swallow as he looks down at you, eyes intense and fiery and this time it’s your turn to swallow.

“I— I know…” You manage, and for a moment you can’t stop staring at one another.

Eventually, Bucky squeezes your hands and nods his head toward your home.

“You’d better—”

“—Oh! Yes… Goodnight…”

Bucky watches you as you make your way to your door and tips his hat when you look back at him before you close it.

“Goodnight.”

—-

Bucky can’t sleep.

It's late, he really should have been asleep hours ago, but he can’t stop thinking about you and what you’d said. As much as he curses himself for not seeking out the moment when he’d had you under him in the field, he’s also glad. You deserved more than a quick rut on a picnic blanket, and yet his mind wanders to Parisian nights, except all the women in his memories are replaced with you.

Would you be loud? Quiet? Would you say his name, drawn out and breathy? He decides he wants to find out.

It takes him no time at all to walk to your house, and when he’s climbed the side wall of the enclosed courtyard into the back garden, he sneaks on around to the open window on the first floor.

Surprisingly, you were either far from asleep yourself, or you had been suspecting his visit. You sit up in bed right away, but smile and hold a finger to your lips as you creep across to the window. Bucky leans against it comfortably, holding your hand when you half climb through to sit on the sill, legs dangling out beside him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, though your demeanour seems to be far more girlish, far more pleased-but-scandalised than you had been earlier, talking so frankly about sex. Bucky gives you his best smile and shrugs.

“Wanted to see you. What’re you doing awake?” He nods to your bed, the book and torch clearly lying amidst your sheets.

“I was reading.”

“I can go if you’d—”

“—No!” You whisper, socking him lightly in the shoulder, as if it were a ridiculous thought to even suggest he leave. In the moonlight he thinks you look lovelier than ever, and he scoots closer, until he’s resting his arms across your thighs and gazing up at you softly.

“We have to talk quietly though, my mother’s room is above mine and her window is also open…” You point, and Bucky looks, see’s the curtains billowing slightly out, and he nods.

“I’d let you in, but I think you might dissolve into a blush.” You tease him, and Bucky immediately perks, eyes lighting up at the challenge. He pulls his arms off of your lap and cocks his head.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” He asks slowly, letting a hand gently curve up your calf. Your nightdress covers you from the knee up, but he ignores it, reaching underneath to massage softly at your thigh.

You don’t take your eyes off of him, even when he lowers his gaze to carefully push your knees apart. If anything you seem to lean back on your palms, watching him intently. Bucky meets your eye again when he snakes his hand further, forgoing your leg entirely to press the pads of his fingers against your core, eliciting a sharp inhale from the both of you.

“You don’t wear underwear to bed?” He can’t help but ask, pants suddenly restrictively tight and you breathe out slowly, clearly trying to remain quiet as he lets his fingers simply glide through you slick.

“Only when I’m expecting company.” You tell him, and he chortles, stepping closer and pressing his lips to yours.

Your head angles back for him, letting him set the pace of the kiss and gently, Bucky presses one finger inside. You almost gasp, but he kisses you harder, pulling back again just slightly, so your lips brush when he speaks.

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” You nod vigorously, eyes not even opening to meet his, and Bucky leans back further, content to watch your head lull back and mouth part in the softest breathiest moans he’s ever heard as he slowly pumps his one finger in and out of you.

He’s laser focused on the task at hand, even despite his rock hard cock, and soon he’s adding another finger, slowly letting them sink deep into your velvety wet heat, his pride stoked when you further part your legs for him. He uses his free hand to push your nightdress up around your hips, and he nearly groans at the sight. Licking his lips he sets his eyes back on you, leaning in to nip and kiss at your neck, finally letting his thumb press down against your clit, massaging in circles as slow as his strokes, and he feels your muscles flutter.

A third finger joins the others and this time you seem to reactively grip his wrist, your other hand flying to slap over your mouth as your brow furrows deeply. Bucky knows he’s breathing hard, and after adjusting himself briefly in his pants, he pulls at the thin straps of your nightdress, getting it only half down one shoulder, but it’s enough.

He wraps his lips around your exposed nipple, swirling his tongue and nipping experimentally, feeling your hand wrap around the back of his head in approval. He stares up at you, desperately wanting to see your face when he finally pulls you apart and he’s rewarded only a few minutes later, his fingers fucking you far quicker, his thumb working faster.

When you finish, your cunt squeezes his digits relentlessly in waves of pleasure, and you make strained, soft little mewls as you attempt to remain quiet. Your hips shift and twitch and he doesn’t draw away from your breast until you’re blinking back down at him, gently pulling his hand away from your clit with bashful little laughs.

“At least… at least I won’t have to change any bedsheets…” You pant, and Bucky chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your lips properly, feeling your naked chest heave against his when he does. Your eyes seem dazed, and your face warm, but when he pulls away again you swallow and gesture to his own clearly bulging pants.

“I can—”

“—Not tonight…” And he means it.

“I just wanted… I just wanted to see you.” He says, and your gaze shifts from purely lustful to something softer, and you smile, dipping your eyes away for a second.

Bucky takes the moment to enjoy his view, your dress pulled up to your hips, your pussy still clearly on display, and your sleeves hanging well down to your elbows, breasts bare, nipples hardened and exquisite. He fights the urge to reach out and start all over again, maybe get his mouth on you this time…

“S’alright?” He rests his head in his palm and you chortle quietly, nodding.

“Yes. Yes, better than… than anything with other boys before…” He gets the feeling you aren’t just saying that to stroke his ego, the blissed out look on your face and the oddly bashful demeanour you’ve taken on requiring him to believe that he really had just properly blown your mind. He grins triumphantly, and leans in again, kissing your lower lip.

“I told you I wasn’t a boy.” He kisses you full again, loving the feel of your hand reaching up to hold the back of his head to you.

“I know.” You say when he forces himself back. You watch him as he carefully pulls up the sleeves of your shirt, covering you up again, and then fixes the skirt too, until you’re mostly modest.

“You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” He tells you, and you hum, reluctantly climbing back through your window and standing on the other side. He kisses the back of your hand, but when he goes to pull away, you don’t release your hold on him, tugging him back slightly, and he blinks at you curiously.

Your eyes have taken on that same lustful expression from before and you cock your head.

“Will you think of me?” You ask, and at first, it doesn’t quite click.

“When you wrap your hand around your cock when you get home, will you think of me?” Bucky nearly chokes, nearly climbs right through your window and ends all the tension there and then, but he manages to hold strong, realising you were still somewhat teasing him.

“Darlin’ I will think of nothing but you, soaking wet and waiting for me…” He squeezes your fingers slightly, noting the approval in your eyes even before you nod.

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“It has been, yes.” You finally let him go, watching as he clambers quietly back over your side wall.

And Bucky does think of you when he gets home, he strokes himself to the thought of your mouth and your cunt, and your tits bouncing in his face while he has you on his lap. It’s honestly the filthiest his mind has been since Paris nights drowned in alcohol and women he didn’t bother to get the names of. He knows your name though, sighs it again and again as he thinks of you.

He falls asleep hard and wakes up in the morning the same way, unable to stop thinking about you.

—-

In the days following Bucky’s midnight visit, you feel a giddy sort of happiness thrum constantly through your veins. Even now, as you sit up in your archway, trying to focus your mind on the letter you write to your distant aunt (you think you’ve met her all of once, but she’d written to you and your mother regarding your health and wellbeing in the aftermath of the war, so you felt obliged to reply). You find yourself able to write only several lines before you’d look up, searching, hoping perhaps Bucky would show, but even you know it’s too early… he’d still be working.

Part of you debates going to watch, the idea of seeing him labouring away in the hot sun, hopefully with his shirt removed, leaving him in only a singlet top… your stomach stirs at the thought, but you shake your head, and concentrate harder on your letter.

You manage to succeed too, losing yourself in describing Montecarra to your relative who’d never once left England, as she’d explained. It isn’t until some time later that movement catches at the corner of your eye, and you barely refrain from looking up as Bucky finally ambles into the courtyard. He must sense your buys-ness, because he doesn’t greet you as he nears, he just stops for a moment, before he continues forward.

At first you think he may approach you to wait, but instead he swiftly climbs into the open archway behind you. You take the time to pause in your own actions to peek at what he’s doing, only to find him sitting in mirror of you, his back to the same pillar yours is. After he settles he twists back and nudges your arm.

“Got any spare paper, darlin’?”

You try to pretend you hadn’t been watching him, but his grin says you’ve been caught out. Gathering a few pages from under your small stack, you hand them back to him, his fingers over your far too suspect for you to think it is anything other than purposeful. Still, you can’t help but smile, even as you settle back to finish off your letter, hearing him uncap a pen.

You find yourself referring back to your aunt’s letter to answer and reply to all of her questions and queries, and once again you almost forgot Bucky is there, until tugging on your sleeve draws you out of your reverie. You turn to look, expecting to be greeted with his lovely face, but instead, all you see is his hand, holding a page folded into a little rectangle.

Your chest flutters at the thought he’d been sitting writing something for you, and so your letter is quickly abandoned in favour of taking the little note. Bucky seems to remain as if he were oblivious to his own actions, humming quietly to himself as you unfold the paper and gaze down at the words.

‘Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?’

Again, your heart stutters, and you can’t hide your smile as you put pen to paper, drawing up your response. You refold it and hand it back the same way he’d offered it to you; tugging on his sleeve and holding it out. The page is plucked from your fingers quickly, and you try to distract yourself by turning back to your true task, only to be pulled from this once more when his hand reaches back, searching. You watch for a moment before he wiggles his fingers expectantly and you snicker, adjusting your hold on your paper, so that you can place your hand in his own.

You sit there like that for the rest of the afternoon, Bucky humming happily, your hands interlocked at an almost awkward angle, and you try your hardest to finish writing your damned letter.

He picks you up from your home later that evening, finds you waiting for him out the front. You hadn’t dressed up in a long time, and so when his gait slows and his eyes roam over you as he approaches, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

You’d worn a simple red dress, but it was the nicest one you owned, the only one appropriate for dinner out. This time you’d committed to the lipstick, painted your lips red and done your best not to talk yourself out of it. You’d left your hair down, let it fall in loosely styled waves, and all together you felt part-movie star, part-fool.

Bucky whistles lowly, just quietly as he nears, and you have to scoff and roll your eyes, hiding your embarrassment as he draws you in, hugging you just quickly before he pulls back, hands on your waist still, to inspect you closer.

“You look beautiful.” He tells you, voice soft and sweet and you know he isn’t pontificating, or trying to woo you.

“Thank you.” You reach out to smooth over his collar and finally force yourself to meet his eye.

“You look lovely, too.”

You feel lost in a slight high as you walk to the only real restaurant in town, in the main square. In the early evening the streets are quiet, only the occasional passerby, but the cafe remains open, seeing to a few quiet patrons, plus yourselves out on the terrace.

Bucky helps you with your chair and takes your order for you, pours you your drink… it's so normal and yet you’d never really experienced an evening like it. When your food is long gone, he scoots his chair around to sit closer to you and holds your hand softly in his while you talk aimlessly. You aren’t at all worried about being seen or judged, in fact the few moments in which you catch a passing couple take a look at you, you see kind eyes and sweet smiles, only making you feel dizzier.

“You enjoyed your meals, I see?” The owner, an older man named Matteo who you’d known to live in Montecarra for as long as you can remember, stops by to clear up your plates, and you nod enthusiastically.

“Wonderful, we’ll have to come back.” Bucky says, squeezing your fingers as Matteo smiles widely and agrees.

“Maybe next time I will have figured out how to work this named record player, then you will have music as well!” You and Bucky both seem to perk as Matteo throws a thumb over his shoulder, and Bucky straightens in his chair slightly.

“I can give it a look, if you’d like?” He offers, eyes already glued to the record player sitting atop the counter only a few meters away. The older man gives him a shrug and a gesture that clearly reads as ‘go for it’, as he finishes collecting the plates and patters back off to the kitchen.

You watch Bucky move over to the counter, fiddling with the player, though you can’t really see what he does. You know he’s fixed it however, when he throws a grin back at you, and plucks a record from beside the machine, pulling it from it’s sleeve and carefully placing it down on the turntable.

Music immediately begins wafting through the air, an upbeat tune you think you’d heard on the radio before, and Bucky comes speeding back over to you, hands held out even as he pulls you from your seat.

“Dance with me?” He asks, though he’s already wrapping his arm around your waist, and you move yours to his shoulder and hand respectively. There isn’t much room between the tables on the sidewalk, and although the song is happy, it’s not a rousing jazz tune, so you find yourselves simply swaying in each others embrace as the French lyrics begin to join the band.

You end up close, so close you forget anything else exists around you, Bucky’s forehead pressed against your own, your chests similarly compressed, as if neither of you could exist apart.

You have to laugh, thoroughly intrigued and enthralled when he begins softly singing the words to the song. It’s so different to hear him speak in a language that wasn’t Italian or English and it makes your chest ache for a reason you don’t know.

“I wish I could speak French.” You say quietly, Bucky’s lips quirk up but you shake your head.

“You must be so amused by how quaint I am… never been in a car, never left my town… never learnt any languages…” You don’t mean to sound so melancholy, but it hits you then, the ache in your heart stems from just how wonderful Bucky is, and how plain you are in comparison. But he’s frowning as you finish, shaking his head and adjusting his grip on you, wrapping you up even further.

“Never. I think you’re worldy in other ways…”

Your purse your lips, but as he opens his mouth to continue you cut him off, changing the subject.

“Can you tell me about New York again?”

Bucky’s expression falters, then lifts into a sweet smile, and you know his mind has wafted away to distant city streets.

“Of course…” He talks for ages about all the shops and stores available, about all the tiny apartment buildings and the decor, and his home block in Brooklyn. He tells you about the parks and the weather, and a place called Coney Island.

“... I think you’d like it.” He finishes, and you hum, having closed your eyes now, head to his shoulder as you attempt to imagine all that he describes. You feel him open his mouth to say something, to continue, but he doesn’t, hesitating and then remaining quiet, though he holds you firmer again, and you relish in the warmth of it.

Eventually, you have to let Matteo close up, and you bid the old man thank you and goodbye as you walk away hand-in-hand. Before you can get too far however, you stop, tugging on Bucky’s hand so you have his attention, the warm Montecarran breeze blowing your hair about.

“My mama doesn’t expect me home until morning.” You tell him, seeing instantly how his eyes change.

“Why’s that?” He manages to ask, stepping close again and you smile, shrugging.

“I told her I was watching some children in town overnight.”

Bucky hums at your reply, frowns as if in thought.

“Sounds as if you may need somewhere to stay, in that case.”

Bucky takes you back to his cottage, all quiet laughs and lingering touches as he leads you inside, placing his coat and keys down on the table, but any pretence is lost as soon as you kiss him. Clothes scatter around the small space, a gingerbread trail leading to his bedroom where he lays you down and peels the last of your underwear off.

Oddly, you feel less nervous about him seeing you naked than you had in your dress, maybe because he’d already seen you mostly this way, or maybe because at least naked it was real and you couldn’t pretend or hide, it was more honest.

You itch to touch him, but you don’t get the chance right away, his kisses leaving your lips quickly to travel down and soon you’re gasping, hands clutched tightly in his hair as he buries his face between your thighs, hands holding your legs apart as his tongue and lips work quickly over you, bringing you over the edge faster than you even thought possible. By the time he’s kissing you again, your mind is a haze of filth and desire and you guide him into you quickly.

Bucky is an excellent lover, his pace and angle perfect, his weight above you welcome as he thrusts into your warmth, desperate and wanting. He isn’t boring either, doesn’t end the night quickly, instead nearing his pleasure and stopping each time, drawing it out. He instructs you in various positions, making your belly spark with his knowledge of the female body, nearly sending you into a fritz when he takes you from behind, leaves you scrambling to hold on to something as you cry out into his sheets, his cock relentless as he fucks you through your orgasm, finally finishing with you, his hands curled around to pinch at your nipples, making your cunt bear down on him even more as you fall into a sweaty, moaning and panting heap.

He fetches you water, helps you fix back your hair in your still slightly dazed state, and pulls you near again, skin to skin as you drift off to sleep, lips pressed to one another even as your mind begins to wander.

In the morning you wake him with your mouth around his length, swallow him back as much as you can as he’s drawn from slumber by the pleasure, his hand reaching down to messily clutch at your hair. You watch him come apart for you, eyes fixed on his tilted head, creased brow and open mouth as he jerks into the back of your throat, hot warmth spilling forth that you swallow with ease.

He swears and curses as he rubs his eyes and you crawl up to lay beside him once again, finding his eyes looking at you as if to make sure you were real.

“Good morning, Sargeant.” You tease, only to have him cuss more, his chest heavily quickly up and down. You chitter and brush the slightly damp hair back from his head, a kiss to his cheek as you withdraw from the bed.

“Where’re you goin’?” He asks, blinking himself properly awake and you throw him a glance as you hunt for all your belongings.

“I have to go home, my mother does expect me at some point…” You explain, and he rubs a hand over his face once more, seeming to deflate a little.

“Right. Of course.”

You’re fully dressed when he manages to pull himself to sit on the edge of the bed, still naked, still just as fine as the evening previous. He looks up at you as you step nearer, braiding back your hair before you place both hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you.” You say simply, leaning down to peck his lips chastley. He hums against you, kissing you back and quickly you’re no longer pecking his lips, your hands roaming down over his shoulders appreciatively, his hands reach up the back of your skirt, pulling your underwear to the side and—

You gasp, giggling as you pull out of his reach, shaking your head and wagging a finger at him like a naughty child.

“No! No, I have to go home!” You tell him, even as he sighs, falling back to lie on the bed again. You can clearly see his hardening length and you fight yourself to just climb atop him once more.

“I will see you later!” You say pointedly, tossing a shirt onto his lap, to hide him from you, and you see him grin, chortling even as his hand travels lower, removing the shirt and wrapping around— you turn your back, flustered and tempted, but you leave his little cottage, determined to get home before your mama woke, so you could wash and change.

—-

Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind, he knew it wouldn’t last forever, but the end comes sooner than he’d expected.

He stares at the small pile of pages in front of him, their words all making sense in his brain, he understands what they all say, what they’re telling him, but at the same time, he comprehends absolutely nothing after the words ‘The United States Armed Forces herby discharges you with honourable service records…’

He was going home. They were sending him home.

At last he’d be able to hug his mother, see his sister, Steve, all the other fellas… he’d get to go home and really start his life post-war. He’d been waiting on this letter for months, a year even, more perhaps. At one time, it had been all he’d wanted. And yet, all that fills him now is a sense of dread, muddled with a bit of guilt, because he knows he really does miss his family, but…

When he sees you later that afternoon, sitting up in your nook like always, he can hardly bring himself to return your smile, sparkling and bright as always, for him. You pick up on his mood immediately, even if you poke fun. He knows he can’t delay, they expected him on his flight home from Rome tomorrow. The army loved their damn punctuality.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, face falling a little when he only half-heartedly chuckles at your joke, his eyes downturned, afraid to meet your own. He swallows, and shoves his hands in his pockets, squints into the distance.

“They’re sending me home.”

A beat passes.

When he finally looks back at you, he catches the tail end of devastation leaving your features, replaced instead with a hopeful, sincere grin.

You grab his hand, pulling them from his trousers.

“Bucky! That’s wonderful news!” You say excitedly, but he can only purse his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! You don’t want to spend your whole life here, do you!?” You snort a little as you knock him in the shoulder, and he smiles thinly.

No, he didn’t want to live the rest of his life in Tuscany, but he’d been getting used to having a little slice of it around lately.

Your over-excitement fades, and you lean in to him cupping his cheek.

“You’ll get to see your mother, and your city… I know you miss them all…” He can’t help but frown at a spot on your dress, avoiding your eyes like a pouting child.

“I’ll miss you, too, though.” He mumbles, and you smile, scrunch your nose and shake your head.

“In no time at all this will all be a happy memory.”

Bucky wants to protest, lifts his gaze to argue with you, but the sharp, almost panicked look you give him as you shake your head again stops him.

“No, Bucky… Don’t. Please don’t make this sad… you’ve made me…” Your voice is cut off as you sniff, the shininess to your eyes spilling over just slightly, even though you smile softly.

“You’ve made me very happy, for quite some time. Let us leave with that.” You wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face away and Bucky sighs, pulling you closer too, and resting his head atop your own.

He glares, frowns aimlessly at a nearby wall, barely even seeing it, focusing all his energy on swaying gently with you.

“Alright.” He says, voice a little rough. You sniff into the collar of his shirt, and he smooths his hands down over your back.

“Alright.”

—-

“We rented out your room to a shoemaker. You’re gonna have to sleep on the couch until we can convince him to leave.” Becca says flatly, half her words muffled as she’s drawn into Bucky’s chest. He holds her there tightly for several seconds before pulling back.

“Oh yeah?” He rubs at his chin.

“Don’t think the shoemaker will sleep heads to toes with me?” He wonders, and Becca scrunches her nose, laughing at the image.

Winnie Barnes shakes her head and lightly taps her daughter.

“Becca don’t cause trouble. Bucky, we left everything exactly the way it was.” His mother tells him, before hugging him for the sixth time since he’d landed. He just grins, and hugs her back each time. He’d missed her. So much.

They eat dinner together, Steve and Peggy come too, and afterward, the blond makes Bucky pull out his camera. After quickly pulling some choice images out of the pile, he lets Becca and his mother rifle through, telling them about each photo as he remembers it, the act rather therapeutic. He really had been gone for so long.

“Oh… who's this?!” Becca coos, half reading, half awed, and Bucky absently leans over to get a look.

His heart stops for a moment when he lays eyes on you, your smile wide and full of glee, the wind blowing your hair wildly about, your hand lifted to hold your hat on your head. Maybe he takes too long staring, maybe it’s just something about a sisters’ intuition, but Becca whistles, then gasps as she plucks another photo from the pile now tipped on the floor.

“Here she is again! And here too!” Even his mother gives him a sideways glance, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bashful.

He clasps his hands under his knees where he sits on the carpet and hums.

“Nina. I met her in a little town called Montecarra.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” he confirms, as Becca continues to find photos with your face peppered throughout. He should be embarrassed about the amount of pictures he took of you, even ones where you aren’t doing anything but reading, but he really doesn’t.

“She your girlfriend?”

“Becca!” Winnie scolds, glaring at her daughter, but Bucky only laughs.

“I wasn’t lucky enough for that.” He shrugs, and his mother fusses.

“James Barnes, any woman worth her salt—”

“It’s not like that Ma… it’s just…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to say something to suggest he didn’t want to be here with them, because he desperately did. But he missed you.

“Well… I came home.” He shrugs, and his mother’s eyes fill with understanding. She purses her lips but frowns thinly, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

Becca frowns too, but she recovers quickly, pulling out a new photo and asking him about the features in it.

She pulls out the ones of your face, but she doesn’t mention them again.

Bucky settles in. He truly comes home. He stops feeling like he’s living out of a suitcase. He finds a job, granted it isn’t hard, with the SSR setting up an office in the city, he barely had to ask for a job. On Fridays he went dancing with Becca, acting more like a chaperone than a participant, and on Sunday’s he went to church with his mother, holding her hand through the service and making nice with the old ladies after.

He settles in. He’s home.

And then, there’s a knock on the door.

It’s well after any kind of appropriate hours for visitors, but not late enough into the night that anybody was in bed. Winnie sits by the radio in the living room, listening to her stories while Becca scrawls out a letter. Bucky had been reading when the knock came, and he waves a hand towards the women when he stands.

“I’ll get it.”

“Who on earth calls at this time?” He hears his mother wonder aloud as he makes his way down the hall to the front door.

Swinging it open, Bucky feels ready to send off whoever it is, but he stops dead in his tracks. All sense leaves him, aside from sight. He’s only able to stare slack-mouthed as you blink back up at him.

He’s never seen you in so many layers before. It was winter in New York, but Montecarra seemed to be perpetually hot, so the most he’d seen you in was a light jacket… standing before him now, on his front steps, you have a coat, a scarf, gloves, a hat and he thinks those might even be earmuffs around your neck.

“I… Hello…” You begin, your voice heavily accented when you speak English, and even though Bucky shakes himself out of his stupor, he’s still dumbfounded.

“Hi…”

“I… I’m new to the city, and I thought perhaps you will… show me around?” You seem to be thinking hard about your words, speaking slowly to articulate them. You scrunch your nose when you finish, clearly unhappy with the outcome.

Bucky can’t even bring himself to respond. He’s down the two steps separating you in seconds, hands cupping both your cheeks as he kisses you, again and again, in quick succession until you’re laughing against his lips.

“What— how— what are you doing here?!” He stops and starts, but eventually gets some version of his thoughts out. He speaks to you in Italian, not wanting you to feel limited, and you shrug, gloved fingers splayed across his chest.

“My Aunt… the one from England… she offered for me to join her in America, for better opportunities…” You trail off, and Bucky decides you could tell him any reason and he’d have been satisfied.

“I’ve been learning English.” You say, and he nods, thumb stroking over your cheek. He can’t stop looking at you, he can’t believe you’re here.

“I can see that.” He replies, in English, and watches as you slowly understand.

“Buck? Who's at the door— oh! I- I’m sorry, I—” Winnie, with Becca just behind her, stops in her tracks at the door, cheeks tinged red at catching such an intimate moment, but Bucky can’t bring himself to pull away. He see’s Becca’s eyes flash with recognition, her face lighting up.

He forces himself to pull back slightly, guiding you forward.

“Mama, Becca, this is Nina… from Montecarra.”

——

“I thought you said you’d worked in all the kinks!?” You whine, only slightly impatiently, though Bucky can understand why.

“Worked out all the kinks, baby. ‘Out’.” You roll your eyes and mutter in Italian.

“I’m going to work you out in a moment…” You say louder, and Bucky relents, holding up his hands as he finishes fiddling at last.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming! Get ready!” He tells you, quickly rushing around from one side of the camera he’d set up on a pile of books, the little wired control he holds in his hand flashing red.

“Come bambino, please smile for Mr Camera!” You bounce the tiny baby boy on your lap, earning a bout of giggles, just as Bucky slides in next to you on the stairs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and placing his free hand on his son’s back.

“Ready?”

“Five minutes ago…”

“Say ‘Montecarra’!”

He presses the button, and the camera flashes.

Thank You Very Much For Reading!

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 24 - Year 3: September

(ao3 link)

In lieu of Dooku’s attack on Diagon Alley, a screening process leading to platform 9 ¾ was put into effect. Disguised as muggle security personnel, Aurors compared the names and identifications to the list presented to them by Yoda, himself. Obi-Wan could hardly blame them for taking precautions, even though his parents and many others were quite perturbed by the lengthy line that formed against the wall. He wasn’t sure what enchantment was used to sway muggle gaze away from them, but no one paid the line any mind.

He guessed it was possible that the everyday busyness of the train station was enough to distract people.

“Honestly, this is where our taxes are going?” His father huffed, bumping his walking stick against the concrete with a small thud. Obi-Wan didn’t bother to remind him that Dooku had essentially tried to set Diagon Alley on fire a mere two weeks before.

“Just because they don’t have anything better to do does not mean the same for all of us.” His mother agreed, just as stuffy in her delivery. Obi-Wan also didn’t bother to mention that this was the first time his parents had accompanied him to see him off since his first year.

“They’re no better than mall cops,” He fixed his bored gaze down at Obi-Wan, “And you want to dedicate your life’s work to this?”

“There are many departments.” He offered neutrally.

Anakin, who looked a bit like a mini-me in a sense with his hair combed and parted to the side like Obi-Wan’s, ducked his head around the group in front of him to try and see how far they were from the front. The hair had been his mother’s doing, of course, but it was still strange seeing the boy look so sleek and his clothes so pressed. He still didn’t go as far as wearing his uniform before boarding the train, but Obi-Wan was still floored by the presentation.

“I don’t see the Fetts yet.” He frowned.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s far more likely that they’ll be heard before they are seen, my dear.” His mother said, “They’re like their own army, that bunch.”

“To have that many children and not one girl,” His father shook his head, though Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t tell if his father believed this was an accomplishment or not. His parents had never given any indication to wanting more than one child. He’d never asked for a sibling, but he wouldn’t have minded the company.

“I like it better that there aren’t girls,” Anakin protested, “Girls complicate things too much.”

“Affairs of the heart, you mean,” His father nodded, “An astute point, Anakin.”

“Well, that and we wouldn’t be able to burp the alphabet freely if they were around,” He shrugged.

Where Obi-Wan surely expected a tirade on the importance of proper etiquette and manners, even in this public setting that ensconced them, his parents only exchanged a curious look before tilting their heads back and laughing heartily. Naturally, he was relieved that it had gone that way, but it didn’t take away any of his confusion.

Anakin smiled, happy to make them laugh. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him. He knew from experience that this was a tough sell.

“You are a riot, my boy.” His father patted Anakin on the shoulder.

“Were you not to save us all, I’d argue you’d make a mighty fine comedian.” His mother added once she calmed down as well. “If that weren’t a dreadful career choice, mind you.”

“Yes, quite funny.” Obi-Wan sighed through his nose and took advantage of the moment to scan the crowd for his friends. Naturally, the Fett’s were likely running a bit late, but it was unlike Satine to be behind. He supposed it was possible she was already on the platform with her family, but knew it was quite possible that her sister delayed their arrival. Satine always complained about such behaviors from Bo-Katan.

His internal debate on the matter was abruptly interrupted by his shoulder forcefully being checked by a passerby. However, when he turned, he had the desire to turn to ice on the spot when he made direct eye contact with Asajj Ventress.

“Obi-Wan,” She sniffed, unimpressed. Had her mother not been by her side, he was sure she would have scowled. After the events of the previous year in which Ventress performed horrific acts on students, it was likely she was under more scrutiny than ever before.

“Ventress,” He said with just as little emotion.

“Obi-Diah, Wanda, funny seeing you all here.” Madame Ventress said evenly. While it was now publicly known that the Ventress’ had secretly adopted their daughter, it was still difficult to believe they weren’t biologically related. After all, there was unmistakably a sharpness and severity to the esteemed Madame that her daughter most certainly mastered.

“Same to you, Anoth.” His mother said with a familiar brand of forced kindness to her tone, “Though, I’m sure you’ve heard we’ve been tasked with the pleasure of ensuring the safety of Anakin Skywalker over break. It’s not the sort of thing one takes lightly.”

This sort of verbal sparring was typical amongst his parents’ inner social circle, especially the women. Most of his mother’s tea times, book clubs, and school board meetings consisted of this exact type of conversation. It’s why he was surprised when he branched off and went away to school that friends didn’t have to be at constant competition.

“Yes, I read the Daily Prophet just like everyone else. Our names have also been in the papers quite a bit as well.” Her bright green eyes flickered to Anakin only for a moment before looking back to her daughter with contempt. Obi-Wan knew his summers could be dreary, but for the barest of moments, he glumly wondered how Ventress’ had been.

“Tabloids do tend to twist events.” His father added rather unhelpfully, but seemed distracted by the increasing amount of time they spent in the winding line. “Particularly towards their desired narrative and audience.”

“Indeed,” His mother nodded and steeled her gaze into Anoth Ventress’s eyes, “Even with the extenuating circumstances, you know our offer still stands.”

For a moment, they were suspended in time. Obi-Diah Kenobi still looked quite bored by the ongoing events, but Wanda and Ventress’ own mother were transfixed in silent discussion. Anakin and Obi-Wan looked between them, trying to figure out what in the blazes was going on.

“I’m surprised,” Anoth’s smile was small, but not ingenuine. “Seeing as it’s not necessarily what was advertised.”

“We have considered it at great length,” She admitted, “But through avid research and deliberation, we have decided it would still advance the business and benefit both parties.”

“I see,” Her smile grew broader and all the more like the cat that got the canary, “Well, you know we must accept.”

“What are they talking about?” Anakin finally whispered, “Is this a business deal?”

“Essentially,” Mr. Kenobi sighed tirelessly, “What in the word is the hold up?”

“They are allowing muggle born children to advance the line,” Asajj said bitterly, “In lieu of recent events.”

Recent events being her former employer’s attempt at domestic terrorism, that is.

“That is positively ludicrous !” His mother cried out, “Why should they receive any special treatment?”

“Well, I’d imagine they feel they might be targeted because of Dooku’s stance-” Obi-Wan began, but effectively cut off by his father’s matched rage. Admittedly, he startled a great deal at the heavy sound of the metal walking stick striking the ground. Many other families turned their heads at the commotion.

“-Oh, spare me that dither! Are we expected to believe that their lives matter more than the purebloods and half-bloods?”

“We received priority because of any potential target Dooku might have placed on Asajj.”

“Now that is understandable,” Obi-Diah sighed, “I only wish they didn’t have to punish all purebloods in the process because of that man’s aggressive actions.”

“Not to mention, do they not care for their chosen one ?” His mother emphasized her point by referring directly to Anakin, “Was he not the object of last year’s attack by the loathsome creature?”

“Dooku is trying to get me.” Anakin said. “He’s made that pretty clear.”

“You know these sad sacks,” Anoth sneered quietly, turning her head in the direction of the families that were being escorted to the front by other Aurors and faculty. “Always playing the victim.”

“Yes, well Hogwarts existed long before their kind was even allowed through the doors,” Obi-Diah muttered just as discreetly, “It seems our Headmaster and Minister of Magic have jointly forgotten.”

“I will not allow such insolence.” Wanda turned her nose up, “Come now, boys, we will not stand for being treated like second class citizens.”

As Anakin began to follow her out of line, albeit looking a little befuddled by the change in events, Obi-Wan remained where he stood.

“I don’t believe that is what’s happening.” He said, “I think they’re just-”

“-Do you not believe the lives of all witches and wizards matter?” His mother rounded on him, “Or are you to just stand and allow yourself to be disrespected as such?”

“I just think we should listen to them.” Obi-Wan offered, “Clearly, they’ve got a system.”

“My, your boy is… Optimistic. ” Anoth commented as she scrutinized Obi-Wan. For a moment, he felt like he was being examined for any defect or system reset button. However, as quick as her scathing stare had landed on him, it was back on her daughter.

“He reads too much.” His mother gritted her teeth, “Now come. Now.”

When Obi-Wan didn’t immediately move, his father stuck his walking stick in front of his feet, blocking any chance at approaching anyway. His eyes were cool and unimpressed, which juxtapositioned against his mother’s fiery temper, made for an equally concerning contrast.

“Leave him,” His father scowled and turned to follow the Ventress’ and his wife, “Should he see himself deserving of less, perhaps he is.”

Relenting, his mother nodded once, “Yes, well, should you miss the train because of this, you will be finding your own means to Hogwarts.”

Obi-Wan only watched them go for a moment, having a difficult time listening, let alone watching the scene that his parents made on the poor Aurors that guarded the entrance to the platform. The sound of surrounding chatter and distant trains entering and departing helped muffle some of it out, but his mother’s voice could be quite shrill when she wanted it to be and astutely recognized the sound of her threatening to write the Daily Prophet about this “discrimination”.

He sighed, pinching his nose and trying to remain unseen in the crowd as he waited out his turn to approach the front.

Satine took a breath as she looked around her, allowing herself just a moment to take in the surrounding atmosphere of her last start of a new school year. In a sense, it was everything she’d remembered and far more than that. Each year created a new layer of significance and experience that while never the same as the initial awestruck charm that overcame her the first time she stepped onto the platform, it both sharpened and softened its impact.

It was all so familiar: students reunited after a long summer spent apart, eager to share all the details of their time away while also gushing about the upcoming year. Parents were just as frequent- those who represented first years hastily trying to ensure their safety and comfort while holding back tears. The parents of seventh years held it together for their soon-to-be adults, though it was easy to spot misty eyes amongst them too.

She had been pleasantly surprised by the measures taken to ensure the safety of the muggle-born children and their families. In all fairness, they were still the most vulnerable group, since in her case, only she could perform magic in an emergency. While certain she could defend herself if she had to, she was glad that it seemed the Ministry was at least a little more eager to take preventative measures than last year.

“Cody!” Satine practically leapt into her friend’s arms the moment she saw him enter the security clearing. Trailing around him was the full entourage that was his family, of course, and all immediately scattered like marbles the instant they also saw their respective friends.

“Boys! Return to this spot in no more than 7 minutes!” Jango Fett, their stoic and usually emotionless father, ordered. All of them nodded in agreement, but continued the search for their other classmates. The energy for the return to Hogwarts was unlike any other school Satine had ever heard or seen.

Even with the ever present danger that hung over them.

“Business as usual, I see.” She laughed a little when they parted.

“Yeah, you know how it goes,” He shrugged easily. “Where’s your family?”

She rolled her eyes, “My sister felt “sick” and so they had to duck out early.”

“Oh, well I hope she feels better?”

“Yeah, it’s the same ailment that tends to strike her every single year at this time. This time she only grew smarter in how she presented symptoms.”

“I see…” Cody nodded, “You think she got her hands on a puking pastille?”

“Not sure how that would be possible since I don’t mess around with those things,” She looked around him, scanning the area for another familiar face, “Have you seen Ben?”

“If you haven’t, surely you can’t assume I have.” Cody reasoned with a smirk.

“And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms and fixed him with her patented prefect- now Head Girl - glare.

“I thought we were getting a bit too old for playing pretend.” Expectedly, he didn’t back down from her appraisal. If he had, he wouldn’t be the thick-headed Gryffindor that she treasured dearly.

She sighed, “It just isn’t like him to run late.”

Well, except for when they scheduled to meet at Screed & Sons. For many reasons, that day certainly stood to mind. So much so, that she wouldn’t afford it any thought for the time being.

“I’m sure he’ll be along.” He shrugged.

“I saw his parents and even Anakin, but not him,” She bit her lip. She didn’t feel like it had to be said why she didn’t approach them. Cody was braver than most and she doubted he would have done so either.

“I heard them earlier,” He winced, “You missed quite the scene.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t respond well to waiting in line.” She said.

“I doubt they’ve ever done so.”

“No, I’d imagine not. Not even at the store.” Thankfully, her time spent with the Kenobi’s had been extremely minimal in all her years of knowing Obi-Wan. That didn’t mean she didn’t have a decent idea of what they wouldn’t tolerate. If it hadn’t likely meant a humiliating scene for Obi-Wan, she might have chuckled at the thought of their outrage.

“Bold of you to assume they do their own shopping,” Cody rolled his eyes and then looked around them again, clearly doing his own survey of the area for their friend.

For a moment, an irrational thought overcame Satine in the form of his parents locking him up in that cold mansion to prevent him from coming to school for their final year. Her heart plummeted at the very thought of carrying through their victory lap without him. She’d always been a bit of a bookworm and enjoyed school to the fullest, particularly exploring the magical realm that had unfolded before her when she most desperately needed it. However, she knew it would not have been the same without him.

For it was not just the literal sort of magic that had kindred her spirit.

“Well, if they’re here, he’s got to be around here somewhere. Knowing him, he’s probably ensuring the train is up to regulation.” Cody offered, though she could tell by looking at him that he was not as relaxed about it as he wanted to convey.

“I’ll have you know, the Hogwarts Express can never fail regulation standards. The charms surrounding it make it physically impossible.” A familiar voice from somewhere behind them lectured.

Before even turning, Satine felt her lips naturally curl into a bright smile that couldn’t be fought even if she’d wanted to. Cody seemed almost equally elated to see Obi-Wan dressed head-to-toe in a perfect uniform ensemble as always.

“Kenobi!” Cody didn’t hesitate to clap a hand on his shoulder, giving him a good squeeze that Obi-Wan smiled at.

As for how she was to greet him, she wasn’t wholly sure. Both stepped forward as if to go for a hug, but lingered long enough that it got awkward just standing there.

“Present and ready with a history lesson, I’m assuming?” She quipped.

“Of which I’m sure you are already well-versed.” He beamed and she swore that the way the sun suddenly broke through the clouds and shined through the windows to cast a glow on his face had to be some intentional act of divine intervention.

She’d noticed at Screed & Sons as well, but standing tall and solid in his uniform, it was even easier to tell that there was something unmistakably different about him. She believed even from an unbiased perspective that it was obvious Obi-Wan was handsome. Anyone with eyes could see that, but now, there was a quality- a maturity, even- that there hadn’t been before.

Where there had once been a rather boyish looking roundness to his face, he was bestowed with a sharp jawline and notable cheekbones. His shoulders were broader and his arms not nearly as bony as they’d been prior. Plus, there was no doubt that he’d grown. While not the tallest in their year by a long shot, he didn’t fare much shorter than Cody anymore. Where their eyes had once practically been at even level, she was now left to stare at a defined Adam’s apple that she watched with mild curiosity as it bobbed ever so slightly.

Instinctually, her eyes drifted up to his chin and then his face, where she had to fight off the memory of leaning closer in a quiet bookstore.

She cleared her throat, “A correct assessment, indeed. I’ve certainly done my fair share of reading on it.”

“Why read about it when we ride it four times a year?” Cody sighed, exasperated, “I guess that’s what makes you two the Head Boy and Girl, though.”

“It’s not the sole requirement, but I can’t argue that it didn’t help,” He admitted with a small shrug.

“Cody! I said seven minutes!” Jango called from just a few meters over. Even over the echoes of mass conversation in open space, he was still one to be heard.

“Oi, I’ll see you two on the train. We’ll talk about summer!” He promised before patting them both on the shoulder and trotting off to join the rest of clan Fett by the water fountain.

This left Obi-Wan and Satine to stand on their own in the midst of the controlled chaos of onboarding. She supposed the easy thing to do would be to immediately jump into work, to throw themselves into their responsibilities. That was certainly what they usually did and it worked fine in the past. They were definitely good at that.

He smiled at Satine again- this time smaller and somehow more dangerous to her poor heart- “Congratulations again, by the way. For getting Head Girl. I’m usually not one to say I told you so, but-”

“-Since when?” She raised an eyebrow teasingly. She reached out and straightened the pin on his lapel that reflected his position, “Same to you, of course.”

“Yes, well, there were many deserving candidates. It could have gone either way.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” She rolled her eyes. “There was no question who deserved the title. I think you’re the only person who had any doubts.”

“Qui-Gon always said humility is nothing but truth.” He said.

“Humility is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself.” She countered easily and stuck her chin up. “If you’d like to toss the ideologies of your mentor back and forth, I do not have all day. We do have places to be. So, should you have any prominent arguments, I suggest you voice them now.”

He shook his head, though he still allowed for the ghost of a smile to linger at the corners of his lips as he did so, “How can I refute the arguments of the brightest witch of our age?”

Her heart fluttered, “You can’t. You should know that by now.”

“Well then, I suppose I concede, if only for the sake of efficiency.” He said, staring at her just a little too long. “I heard you got bag duty.”

“Yeah,” She grimaced. The easiest way to take one out of a moment was to remember that they had to assist in lugging all the heavy items from students onto the train. “No such thing as seniority, apparently.”

He shook his head, “I’ll switch with you.”

“You don’t have-” Though she was cut off by the hand he raised in immediate rejection.

“I understand that you can handle the task and that I don’t have to take over for you, but I want to.” And then he winked, “And besides, I think we can both agree I could use the workout.”

“I wouldn’t say that .” She murmured, forcing herself not to scrutinize that statement. “Though I do appreciate the assistance.”

“I’ll see you on the train.” He smiled and handed her his clipboard.

“On the train.” She repeated, not able to resist the anticipatory smile that gave way on her face. She was sure, as she passed the hoard of students trying to shovel their way onto the train, that she looked like an absolute dope of a girl. That’s how she felt in a sense and she didn’t really care.

For what Satine Kryze was feeling, was hope.

They were growing up.

“You were merely reading that day in Diagon Alley, hm?” His mother’s fingers dug deep into his arm, dragging him away from the student he’d been trying to help, “Nothing more?”

He winced, “I don’t know what you’re-”

“-You may be able to fool everyone, maybe even yourself, but you will not fool me,” She said coldly, “I see the way you look at her, Obi-Wan, and I will not stand by and allow you ruin your life simply because your hormones have decided to run rapid over someone perceived as lesser than.”

“Do not speak of her like that, Mother,” He shook off her grip, an intensity and bravery igniting at the hearth of his spirit. For a moment, even she had the decency of looking taken back by his outburst. In all of his years, he never argued and never formally rebelled in such overt ways. He could not bring himself to find any guilt in his words and only continued with confidence, “She’s a lovely person who deserves respect.”

“I never said she was less than, but she will be seen that way. And what of your family?” She snapped. “Do we not deserve the same courtesy?”

“I have always respected you and father.” He said.

“You have defied us at every turn.” She poked him hard, “You have been nothing but a disappointment, but this …” She pointed onwards to where Satine helped a first year student load some of his things on the train, “This is an offense that will not be forgiven.”

He didn’t say it, but she was starting to sound like Dooku.

As if reading this thought from his stare alone, she sighed wearily, “Do not stare at me as though we haven’t been abundantly clear what was expected of you this entire time, Obi-Wan. It is pitiful as it is inexcusably ludicrous. I am merely looking out for you. I have nothing personal against the girl.”

“Are you sure?” He frowned, “Because you haven’t even taken the care or time to know her name .”

“I know her name,” She said, “And so will everyone else should you go through with this charade.”

“If only you knew-”

“Oh, if I only knew?” She laughed incredulously, “If I only knew? My dear boy, you may believe me to be the villainous wench in this narrative that is preventing you from going to your troubled princess, but I must remind you, my son, that this is no fairytale and you are most certainly not a knight in shining armor. And do not speak of me like I have not heard this song before. Do you truly believe your father was who I’d swooned over when I was 18?”

Obi-Wan honestly never pictured his mother swooning over anyone , including his father.

“But even in our wealth, we’re all just trying to survive,” She bore her teeth at him, “And I did what I had to. I climbed the ranks, played the social games, continued the bloodline, and stayed far away from anyone who would put me and my family under scrutiny or on the outside. And should you care about that girl the way I believe you do, I highly recommend you do the same.”

“What are you saying?” Obi-Wan asked, using every bit of practice at keeping his tone measured and even despite the thinly veiled implications of her words.

“I’m saying, we live in the real world, Obi-Wan,” She straightened, “Come back to it. Your name has expectation to it and should you drift outside of that pretense, I cannot promise there won’t be collateral damage.”

The death of Qui-Gon Jinn flashed before his eyes, unwarranted and certainly unwelcome.

“Many in our community, particularly the extremists, will not see your little trist as I do: experimentation. Many, my dear, will see it as treason. And you will not be the one punished for that offense.”

“Is that a threat?” He asked, conviction practically gone to the fear that climbed up his spine and imprisoned him. Had something happened to Satine because of him, he was unsure what he would do.

“No, son, it’s as good as a promise.” She winked and patted him on the shoulder as though dusting him off “Now, do be a good boy and go find Anakin. He is in your care. That, and nothing else, should be your primary priority this year.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan stood dumbstruck and lost, feeling not the usual hope and excitement that came with the promise of a new year, but dread. Dread, because, this would be the clear and sufficient end to any childlike wonder and freedom that he experienced. His duties and responsibilities were finally catching up to him and while he’d taken careful thought not to ponder much of them during his years at school, they would soon be unavoidable.

Unless…

His treacherous stare found Satine as she knelt and consoled a student who had from the looks of it lost her mum. The sun poured through the windows, catching her hair and almost making it look as bright as sunlight. Her skin was milky white under its scrutiny, though even from the shadows of where he stood, he could make out every bright detail that etched into her brow.

As though feeling his stolen gaze, she turned and waved him over, smiling encouragingly.

He could not be the reason the smile on her face disappeared from this earth. She wanted to do too much, be too much. He could not, in good conscience, risk any of that for his own selfish wants.

It was time to grow up.

“Oi mate what’s up with your hair,” Rex was already snickering before Anakin could get a greeting in. He glared daggers at his friend before ruining Kenobi's hard work with a quick ruffle.

“I was trying to be polite ,” Anakin hissed as the two lugged their bags over towards the train, “I didn’t want to embarrass the Kenobi’s!”

“They do a pretty fair job of that themselves,” Rex scoffed, “Didn’t they make a big scene earlier?”

“They just wanted me to be safe,” Anakin shrugged. If anyone was embarrassed by it he was pretty sure it was only Obi-Wan. His mentor really wasn’t a big fan of the spotlight.

“So do I,” Rex shot him an appraising glance, “But you don’t see me crying to the Aurors about it. ‘Do you know who this is?! The Chosen one!’” Rex mocked the more tame bit of Mrs. Kenobi’s threats.

Anakin laughed, “So what, it did get us in faster!”

“Yeah sure,” Rex rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“They just want me to be safe I guess,” Anakin shrugged as he ascended the steps into the train, “They sure were worried after Dooku’s attack near Diagon Alley.”

“That was pretty bloody scary, chosen one or not,” Rex cringed, “I’m just glad we all made it out.”

“Yeah it ended up being some muggle who died,” Anakin frowned, he didn’t think anyone should have died, but he was glad it wasn’t one of his friends. He’d already lost too many as it were.

They fell into silence as they walked down the train aisles. An empty compartment shone like a beacon to Anakin and eagerly he reached for it.

“Hold up mate!” Rex lit up suddenly with a wide smile, “I’ve already got us a compartment all squared away!”

“How so?” Anakin gaped, such a thing was impossible if his friend was still standing in front of him.

“You’ll see, come on!” Rex pushed past him and hurried down the aisle, nearly taking out the trolly witch and her assortment of sweets along the way.

Anakin raced after him, it was this sort of hijinx he’d definitely missed out on over the summer in the Kenobi’s stuffy mansion. Eventually Rex skidded to a stop and opened up a compartment door, waving Anakin inside proudly.

He entered, and tried not to look too surprised at the sight. Rex’s older brother, Ninety-Nine turned from gazing out the window to smiling brightly at them standing in the doorway. Anakin’s thoughts raced with questions, but he was deterred from asking any of them by Rex pushing past him to sit right across the way.

“Glad you could join me,” Ninety-Nine placed his hands on his knees and looked between the both of them, “It certainly is exciting! Finally getting a chance to ride.”

“It’s so great!” Rex oozed enthusiasm and waved for Anakin to sit down next to him. He did so, lowering his bag from his shoulder and setting it in the seat beside him, “You’ll love the castle, and everything’s so interesting. I know all the nooks and crannies thanks to Anakin.”

“I’m sure I’ll have time to learn my way around.”

Anakin was hesitant to ask, but he felt a little lost, “Aren’t you a little old to be going to school?”

Rex turned to give him a look, but Ninety-Nine always seemed to be able to put anyone at ease if they were willing to listen, “I’ve been hired on as the groundskeeper!”

Anakin tried and failed not to remember what horrible fate the last groundskeeper was said to have had and instead tried for a smile, “Oh that’s cool.”

“It’s hard to find work,” The oldest Fett turned and looked out the window as the train lurched out of the station, “I’m grateful they were willing to give me a chance.”

Anakin didn’t think the school could be too choosy, the last guy had his head put on a stake. There surely weren’t too many people lining up for the position.

“Ninety-Nine’s only been to Hogwarts once, last year,” Rex told Anakin, “It’ll be great fun having another brother around.”

“Not tired of us yet, Rexy?” Ninety-Nine chuckled, “Then, surely we haven’t been doing our job as annoying brothers well enough. Perhaps if I mention it to Echo and Fives-”

“-No thanks, you’ve done plenty well,” Rex winced, shaking his head, “Those two could get me expelled if you let them off the leash.”

“They’re not so reckless,” Although Anakin was pretty sure they were.

A knock on the side of their door caused all heads to turn and immediately Anakin’s brow furrowed.

“Hello there, do you mind if I sit here?” Obi-Wan stood hesitantly at the doorway.

“Shouldn’t you be off with your friends?” Anakin said, but at the same time Ninety-Nine extended a gracious hand.

“Of course, please come in Obi-Wan.”

“Thank you,” His mentor seemed to have chosen to ignore his own question and instead took the seat right across from him, “I won’t stay long, I’m just quite tired from bag duty,” an odd defense. Obi-Wan didn’t seem very tired at all, nothing was off about him but the subtle pull of his brow.

“It’s no trouble, I haven’t seen you in ages,” Ninety-Nine gave him a pat on the shoulder, “You should come over more, Cody never stops talking about you and Satine.”

Obi-Wan seemed contemplative at the sound of his friends' names, but he answered nonetheless, “Perhaps someday, I’m usually quite busy outside of school.” Anakin didn’t think so. All he did this summer was wander around after him and read occasionally. There was no reason why his mentor couldn’t visit his friends, especially now that he could apparate. He opened his mouth to say so, but Ninety-Nine spoke first.

“I know, but you’re always welcome in the Fett home,” Ninety-Nine looked quite serious, “And I do mean always .”

“Ah, well thank you,” Obi-Wan seemed to realize all eyes were looking at him because he cleared his throat and looked towards Rex, “Ah, Rex how was your summer?”

It was all it took to get Rex to delve into his summer of Quidditch practice and mischief. Obi-Wan did seem to find quite a lot of humor in a particular prank of charming Cody’s hair to change colors whenever he said the word Quaffle. Fett summers always seemed quite fun to Anakin, he hoped maybe one year he could spend some time over at his best mate’s house.

“And I’m sure you’ll get in much more trouble this year at school,” Ninety-Nine grinned, “But don’t let me catch you or I’ll have to take points off!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Rex teased, “You want Gryffindor to win just as much as Cody!”

“As groundskeeper I certainly can’t be having any such house loyalties,” Ninety-Nine pointed out proudly.

That seemed to wake Obi-Wan up from whatever trance he’d fallen under during one of Rex’s more boring stories, “Oh, congratulations by the way. Cody spilled the news to me quite early of course, but it’ll be an honor to have such a wonderful groundskeeper for my last year.”

“I’ll certainly be doing my best, but you ought to come and visit every once and awhile! All three of you,” He turned his attention onto Rex and Anakin, “I’d love to hear all about your classes.”

Obi-Wan suddenly jumped up out of his seat, eyes fixed out the window. The rest of the car turned to give him a questioning look, but he shook his head, “It seems I’ve lost track of time! I should get back to Cody and Satine before they hunt me down.”

Anakin just rolled his eyes, if his mentor had just gone back to his own compartment it certainly would have saved him the trouble.

Cody was rambling on about his Quidditch strategies for the year, but he knew Satine wasn’t really listening. Her eyes were glued on the door to the compartment and her fingers were tapping swiftly against her knee. He knew why of course, but Obi-Wan was on the train somewhere. Unlike the time Satine had missed the train. It was just likely he got held up by something. He was the Head Boy now. The Head Girl however was only stopped from going after him, by her willingness to listen to her friends. He was pretty sure if he stopped talking for even a minute she’d explode out of her seat. She was a good friend and despite the, somehow , still unspoken words bouncing around between her and Obi-Wan, he knew she’d never ditch him.

He found a stopping point in his rant, just to test such a theory and sure enough after a moment of silence Satine sprung from her seat.

“I’m going to find-”

“Sorry I’m late,” Obi-Wan Kenobi, unfashionably late, slid the door to their compartment open and looked between his friends in surprise, “What’s going on here? It’s safer to sit down.”

“I wouldn’t have to be standing if I wasn’t going to have to go looking for somebody ,” She gave him a glare and he shrugged sheepishly.

“I had to give my congratulations to Ninety-Nine. We got a little carried away discussing Rex’s summer,” He looked to Cody with a mischievous grin, “Quaffles huh?”

Cody groaned and Satine gave him a questioning glance.

“It’s worn off already thank you,” Cody slouched into the corner, thinking up some creative way to get back at his siblings at a later time.

Obi-Wan sat down right next to him.

It was an innocent move to anyone who had not been by his side since first year, but Cody was shocked right out of his own thoughts. He always sat next to Satine on the train.

Satine herself seemed surprised as well, a glimmer of confusion and possibly a little hurt flashed through her eyes in a blink. She seemed to shrug it off, but Cody could see the gears turning in her mind.

Obi-Wan was trying to act casual, but something seemed off about him too. Not that he could place it. He went straight into explaining Rex’s little prank on Cody as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but the air felt strange. Satine responded in jest and Cody groaned again, but it still seemed off.

He had to wonder, what happened? They were both in good spirits on the platform and Satine had been quite happy when they’d sat down in their usual compartment, so the answers lay with Obi-Wan. Not ideal considering he locked his feelings down tighter than security at the world cup.

Satine crossed her arms over her chest and Obi-Wan looked past Cody out the window. Cody was, for once, at a loss at where to go from here.

He started on his Quidditch strategy again.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore how odd it had felt all the way to school. He was trying to act civil, but he could tell he was coming across as weird. Cody had already shot him a few curious looks. He definitely had made a mistake in not sitting next to Satine on the train. He was just worried such a thing would be too tempting to do something stupid.

Speaking of Satine, she’d headed quickly for the boats with not much more than a quick nag for him to hurry up with bag duty or the boats would leave without him. It was their last year to welcome the first years into the school after all, they had signed up for it together.

Cody said he’d help, which was a little curious, but even if such a thing led to some awkward conversation, he certainly could use the help.

The bag car was hot and quite full, and both boys wasted little time pushing up their sleeves and getting to work.

The silence was getting to Obi-Wan, despite the fact he was used to quiet work. He eyed Cody trying to think of anything to say, anything at all, “I like your watch, is it new?” It was obviously new.

“Yeah, I got it for my birthday,” Cody shrugged, “Probably won’t wear it much since I don’t want it to get busted,” Case and point, “Dad and Boba picked it out for me. I was surprised either of them knew my taste.”

“It’s not like you’ve got particularly extravagant standards,” Obi-Wan shrugged. Cody eyed him up over a trunk.

“And what about you?” He asked suddenly, “Do you think of yourself as someone with extravagant standards?”

Obi-Wan scoffed, “Of course not, while my family may relish in ornate decorations and over the top dinner parties, I’ve always preferred things much simpler.”

“Really? You sure?” Cody questioned.

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” Obi-Wan ducked his head behind a suitcase trying to escape the gaze.

“I dunno mate, just when I think I’ve got you figured out you throw me through another loop,” Cody sighed and shouldered another couple bags.

“I don’t think I’m that complicated!” Obi-Wan shot up to cock an eyebrow at his friend. Cody had the audacity to laugh as he was shaking his head.

“Mate you’re the most complicated guy I know,” He rolled his eyes, “And honestly that’s saying something. I know a lot of people.”

“What’s this all about? Did I do something?” Obi-Wan certainly didn’t want to offend either of his friends.

“Unfortunately you haven’t,” Cody muttered under his breath, but Obi-Wan still caught it and frowned in confusion, “Why didn’t you sit next to Satine on the train?”

He blinked, “That’s what this is about?”

“I think you upset her. You know she loves debating with you on the train.”

“She still could have! And she did,” They’d gotten a little debating in around their discussions of summer readings.

“Yeah, but-” Cody shook his head, “All I wanna know is, why? Did something happen?”

For a moment Obi-Wan wanted to explain it to him, but the whole thing was so nuanced. It was almost like he could feel his mother breathing down his neck and watching him with a wary gaze. He’d seen his mother destroy people, usually through gossip, but sometimes through the newspapers. If she decided to destroy Satine, she could.

Instead he just shrugged, “I didn’t really think about it. I guess I just wanted a change in view.”

Cody seemed to take in this information, calculating it like he was playing a game of chess that Obi-Wan could not see, “If you say so mate.”

Satine wasted no thoughts on Obi-Wan as she helped divide the first years up into boats. It was enough of a struggle to make sure no rowdy kids shoved anyone into the water. That said she still could practically sense his presence before he rounded the corners of her vision.

“That didn’t take long,” She commented while preparing to untie boats from the dock. He shrugged and moved to do the same.

“Cody gave me a hand,” His fingers moved with precision as he untwisted the knot and let a few more boats float aimlessly in the water.

“That was kind of him,” She hummed as she let the rope slip through her fingers.

“He was under the impression that perhaps I’d upset you,” Ben said with a frown in his voice, “If I had, I didn’t mean to.”

Satine felt the urge to brush the whole thing off, just like always. Ben was still keeping his distance, purposely walking a foot or so away from her as he passed her on the dock. It was hard to feel anything, but frustration at the moment. It wasn’t about where he sat, but how the energy had changed. She could tell the moment he’d boarded their compartment. Something had happened in between their conversation on the platform and now and she couldn’t understand it. Moreover, he wasn’t telling her.

She sighed deeply before straightening up to look at him. He paused what he was doing and met her stare evenly.

“I’ll accept your apology,” a ‘for now’ was perhaps implied. She wasn’t aiming to start their first night back with an argument so instead she approached him, he stood his ground even if his eyes gave away his sudden urge to move. She studied him like she often did, with scrutiny, “Something’s bothering you. You know you can tell me?” It wasn’t even just that, but it was obvious they hadn’t had their breakthrough moment yet.

They would have if it hadn’t been for Dooku staging an attack. She was sure of it.

He sighed before offering her a hand as they both stepped towards their own boat, “I know I can tell you anything,” He parroted, before pulling his wand. The rope to their boat slithered away and they set off across the glassy lake under the rocking light attached to the bow.

“Then why don’t you?” She pointed out, but without her usual fire, “You always say you know, but you never do anything about it.”

“Don’t I?” He gazed at the water as they coasted around the boats of curious first years.

“You don’t,” She leaned down to catch his eye, “Just-” She wanted to demand him to admit it, right here, right now. She didn’t want to have to push him into it though, it didn’t feel right, “I’m here for you.” She reminded him. In a rush of quick courage she reached over and wrapped her hand around his, giving it a brief squeeze, and allowing the contact to linger as she pulled her hand back.

He swallowed, looking at where her hand had been on his before turning towards the castle, his eyes usually such a beautiful ocean blue looked a little more steel.

“And I for you.”

Obi-Wan was quick to fall into his normal prefect act as soon as their boat touched the shore. Satine mirrored him easily like they had been cut from the same cloth. Whatever tension had been between them on the boat ride seemed to dissipate as they wrangled the first years up the stairs and into the castle.

He aimlessly fed them facts and pointed out details of the ancient castle while Satine managed to speak on Hogwarts founders and the four different houses. He always admired the way she explained it. It was something he grew up knowing, but she’d gone in mostly blind, save for her early correspondances with Cody. It was clear she had worked on her speech so that the muggleborn children would know exactly what they were getting themselves into.

The walk to the great hall, had seemed so long when he was a first year, but doing it again his last year, it was hardly long at all. They left the first years in the capable hands of Mace Windu and opened the doors to the Great Hall together.

They walked at a reasonable pace towards their usual spot at the Ravenclaw table, but unlike in many years past there was quite a lot of whispering and eyes following them.

“...killed Maul!”

“Dad said he cut him clean in half!”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father’s talked about him...”

It was enough to make him tense, memories of Maul’s yellow hate filled eyes and Qui-Gon’s blood were unwelcome as always. His time fighting for his life on that bridge was something he knew he’d not forget even in his oldest age.

Satine’s hand brushed his, casual, but clearly purposeful, “Are you alright?” She murmured and he tried to relax, focusing on the way her hair glittered under the candle light.

“I’m alright,” He affirmed, but he felt a lot better once they sat down.

The student body’s attention was soon captured by the first years, parading down the grand aisle towards the sorting hat. Obi-Wan would always feel fondly watching the first years enter the great hall for the first time. Starry eyed expressions of the innocent and yet to be troublemakers, a Head Boy’s fondest dream.

“You looked bored,” Satine seemed like she hadn’t meant to say it outloud.

“Pardon?” She looked back at him with an amused sort of look.

“During your sorting? You looked like you were absolutely bored by the whole experience,” He felt his face go red in slight offense for his younger self.

“Well I wasn’t! I had been waiting for that day my whole life,” He corrected her.

“Cody guessed I’d be a Ravenclaw right off,” She turned her gaze back onto the sorting, a nostalgic look, eyes reflecting the twinkling light of the candles floating above them, “Can you believe we’ve almost finished ?”

“Come now,” Obi-Wan admonished though the thought did stir something inside him, “The year’s barely even begun no need for this sort of talk.”

“I suppose you’re correct,” Satine leaned her head on her hand, her golden hair which had been brushed behind her ear fell forward, “No need to say our goodbyes so soon.”

The thought of saying goodbye to the school that had been his home for so many years struck a chord with him. Not as much, however, as the thought of saying goodbye to Satine , his best friend and his greatest rival. She had been a steady presence by his side for 6 long years that would soon turn into 7. It was hard to imagine living the rest of his life without her nearby. Who would correct him fiercely even if he didn’t want to hear it? Who would he debate with long hours into the night when they should have been asleep long ago? Before, he’d never even considered the possibility of them ever being apart, but he knew his mother’s plans did not involve Satine whatsoever. But would he really have to say goodbye ?

The sudden cheers from Ravenclaw table shook him out of his stupor, it seemed they had received a new member for their house. Satine smiled so warmly at the young girl joining their table that Ben felt like his throat had closed up completely.

“Ben?” She asked, confusion in those stunning blue eyes that caught his so easily, “You look like you’re choking on something.”

“Nothing!” He replied too quickly, “I mean, not to worry, I’m fine!” He ducked his head, turning away from her and schooling his expression. Satine had said he looked bored during his own sorting, where was that mask when he quite needed it.

Anakin always liked when they got new first years. Sure he was only in his third himself, but the flow of continuous new students did bring a certain level of energy into the school. Perhaps it was because the past year was so grim, but it was exciting to see the younger students just happy to be there.

Gryffindor broke out into more cheers as another student was placed with them. Echo and Fives liked to place bets on which house would get the most students, and they were busy having a heated discussion about where the last few students would end up.

“I have a good feeling about this year,” Rex told him as the clapping died down, “Everyone’s in high spirits!”

“I hope so,” Anakin eyed Slytherin table as they cheered for another one of their own, “I certainly could use a break from murderers and creeps.”

“Just stay positive mate!” Fives called over to him with a grin, “That’s how I always come out on top.”

The final student was placed into Hufflepuff and it certainly didn’t seem like Fives always came out on top. Echo pocketed a few new galleons with a smug expression on his face.

Food appeared on the table in front of them which was quick to squander any hard feelings from Fives. Everyone dug in with gusto. Anakin went for the more familiar food of bangers and mash. He’d been privy to trying lots of different fancy foods at the Kenobi’s home that summer, but in his mind nothing was better than a classic.

“I’m surprised they started with the food this year,” Rex paused halfway through a chicken leg, “They’ve got new professors to announce after all.”

That was enough to slow Anakin’s appetite. He glanced up at the professor’s table, Qui-Gon, of course, wasn’t there. It felt like he’d walk into the room at any second, but his seat had already been filled by a tall woman with sepia-toned skin and obscure multi-colored eyes that were distant and unfocused.

“Because they wanted us to have an appetite,” Cody grunted, looking pointedly at the gold plate in front of him, “No one really wants to think about dead professors before a meal,” That left the Fetts and Anakin in silence before Rex tentatively broke it again.

“So I read that new comic you sent me,” He pulled the tattered thing from his bag, “Batman’s pretty cool, but I couldn’t figure out his super power.”

“He doesn’t have one!” Anakin perked up, “He’s just rich and trained with monks.”

“But he stops all those guys,” Rex flipped through, trying not to get grease on the pages.

“He’s just really strong,” Anakin pointed out a panel of Batman hurtling a batarang towards the Joker, ‘And someday I’m going to be strong just like him.’ He added in his head.

Satine couldn’t deny that Obi-Wan had seemed off since they’d parted ways before getting on the train, but she couldn’t figure it out. He’d not said much since they’d started the meal, besides a quip here and there to prove that he was in fact listening to her talk. Aayla and Stass were much more active listeners however, both had distracted her with their own summer stories.

Aayla was in the middle of a story from her small Twi’lek village when the sound of a glass being tapped turned heads towards the front of the room. Headmaster Yoda stood in his seat, like he did every year and waited for eyes to fall on him before he began his yearly speech.

“Welcome you back, I do,” He smiled, but it seemed a little smaller than it normally should be. Especially as he turned and gestured to his fellow professors, “As do some new faces,” He started with the easiest pill to swallow, turning towards Cody’s brother, Ninety-Nine with a much more genuine smile, “The keeper of the keys and grounds, Mr. Fett,” The cheers that exploded from his brothers at the Gryffindor table seemed to be enough to drown out a few whispers and turned heads that looked towards Ninety-Nine with a little too much curiosity for Satine’s liking.

Yoda continued on with a gesture in the other direction, “Our new Muggle Studies professor, Professor Jolee Bindo,” He stood from his seat and gave a polite wave before sitting back down. Satine glanced over at Ben who was purposely not looking in that direction at all. The new professor certainly wouldn’t be able to fill the very large shoes left behind, not fully.

“In need of a new Head of House, Ravenclaw also is,” Yoda nodded, Satine found herself averting her eyes as well, “Welcome, Professor Tahl,” Their whole table broke out into polite claps, but Satine couldn’t bring herself to join in. Head Girl or not.

“Finally,” Yoda waved a hand at the last unfamiliar face at the table. The man stood, he was gray and stony-faced and looked not much suited for the role that he was about to be given, “Professor Gunray, Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Like this was a parade or something Gunray waved around the room looking much too pleased. The student body eyed him warily. He too, wasn’t very likely to be truly filling anyone's shoes either.

“He’s an… interesting choice,” Satine scoffed. She turned to Ben, but he was just aimlessly picking at a piece of cake.

“We’ll see,” He said simply and Satine frowned.

“I know Muggle Studies won’t be the same, but we’ll get through it,” She placed a careful hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I won’t,” Ben met her eyes, “I actually dropped it.”

Satine blinked several times before finding the words to respond, “ You dropped a class ?” She seemed to come back to herself and said a little more calmly, “Is it because of-” It was still hard to say his name. He’d been just as much of a mentor to her as he had been to Obi-Wan at times.

“I can’t sit in on that subject, Satine,” It was the most open he’d been about his feelings in awhile, but before she could comment on it he practically locked them away right in front of her, “I’ve switched to Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Are you going for the NEWT?” She asked and he nodded.

“I studied quite a bit over the summer, I’ll have to take a few extra tests, maybe an occasional supplementary lesson,” He looked up towards the front of the room finally, “Headmaster Yoda worked it out for me.”

“Well if that’s what you want,” Satine nodded determinedly, “But you best not fall too far behind me, I’d hate to have no competition.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” The light seemed to return to his eyes as he smiled at her.

Yoda interrupted the chatter once more with a tap of his glass, “More I have to say!” Eyes were once again on him as he pulled out his wand, “Much, will be different this year. Visitors we will soon have,” He laughed gleefully which didn’t put Satine’s mind at ease, “Share more information with you soon, we will. For now, goodnight.”

“What is that all about?” Satine muttered under her breath and Ben shrugged next to her.

“It can’t be anything like last year,” Ben pointed out, “Nothing can ever be too boring around here, I suppose.”

Satine bit her lip as she looked towards the professors, all who looked like they knew too much, “I’ll agree with you there.”

As the raucous chatter that was typical for the first night of the school year once again consumed the great hall and it no longer seemed the faculty had any other hollow promises to make, the reality of this year’s finalty began to sink in. At long last, Asajj Ventress was at the precipice of being through with the pitiful excuse of an institution that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She kept her head down and focused on her notebook instead of engaging with the squalor for the meantime. It wasn’t worth it if there wasn’t something to be gained. She’d lived enough life in her 17 years to know that people were not worth trusting. Everyone she’d ever been expected to trust and care for had betrayed her one way or another and she was through with playing the same game and hoping for different results.

Stripped of her academic placement and her power as prefect and captain, alike, she no longer had the pull that she used to around the halls. Well, not officially, anyway.

While she’d found it strange at first, since she’d been fully prepared to be a complete recluse through the year in preparation for her bigger plans to set into motion, Ventress was still surrounded by the same elitist snobs that always kept her company. It didn’t take long to figure out that they’d been scared into it, likely by their parents, but even that was an anomaly.

Of course, her mother (or the woman whom she thought was her mother) had dedicated the summer to committing extensive damage control amongst the inner and outer circles of pureblood communities. So much so that all of the dastardly and vile things Ventress had said and done were now seen by most as something far worse than she could ever imagine: exploitation.

Her mother’s words had stripped her of her agency, removed her voice, and made her into a victim to be empathized with. As though she had no say or thought in the matter at all. Now she understood how the history of the Nightsisters could be so artfully erased. History was truly in the hands of who wrote it.

It was inane and tactful, absolutely gobbling up all of the hyper conservative purebloods that only condemned Dooku on paper and not by moral belief. It, much like the result of her partnership with Dooku, was a lesson she swallowed like bile in order to chip away at her new plan.

After her dreadful summer of staged repentance and groveling, she understood better what it was she would have to do. She had been a fool to believe she could break the chains of her capture so easily. Her chains were not literal, but they could be put to grand use if she optimized them correctly.

With little more to do than drone around and read, Ventress did plenty of that. Where her mother saw her learning up on becoming a lady and preparing to advance into society and broker deals for the political empire that was her family, Ventress saw keyholes to other opportunities and means at which they could be acquired.

And the only way was to get to the top.

In a sense, her mother did her a big favor by cleaning her record of malice and smearing it with victimhood. Yes, she’d been given a new tool of underestimating that was slurped like fine wine in their world. She believed she might have been rejected for not being a true Ventress by blood, but the truth of her birthright seemed to make her all the more valuable to those that were so desperate to further a “pure” lineage. That was how Anoth Ventress spun it anyway: there was nothing more sacred than being born to the witches of olde and being the last of her kind.

She also knew for a fact that some would appreciate her gifts, just not publicly.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings with what she hoped to appear as only mild annoyance. It was possible she would require these plastic allies that were stuck with her for the remainder of the year. Shu Mai, the Gossam that wouldn’t quite meet Ventress’s eyes with her own little bulging ones, tried and failed to flirt with Faro Argyus. Faro, for his part, was unsurprisingly checking himself out in the reflection of his spoon.

Yeah, she was definitely operating beneath herself at square one. This year, would be all business and no attack. Yoda did say it would be a different year, but not for the reasons he believed. Gunray was obviously going to be a flop of a professor and quite possibly befall some miserable fate like his predecessors, and surely, he didn’t expect Dooku to let up on danger.

However, it would most certainly be pivotal for her. It was just excruciating knowing that there was little to be done at this point beyond waiting. It didn’t appeal to the darker side of her, the side that Dooku brought out so easily with his Sith teachings. As she squeezed a tight fist around her quill, nearly snapping it in two, she tried to contain the buzzing rush of toxic magic that tried to come to fruition at her impatience.

There would be a time and a place for that.

When she reunited with her true family. And then, together, rip Dooku limb from limb for his betrayal. For now, all she needed to do was wait, because her plan, for the foreseeable future, just happened to coincide with what her mother and father expected of her as well.

Good news for them, she would not be coloring outside the lines on this one. Not when the resources she needed for her answers were within them.

She doodled on the top corner of her notepad, carving a dark line across Obi-Wan Kenobi’s name. Then, if only to humor herself, drew an over-inflated heart next to the words: “til death do us part”.

“Headmaster, you know I don’t typically go against the grain of your judgment.” Professor Windu entered Yoda’s office unannounced, not ten minutes after dinner had commenced. His demeanor was guarded, though weary, and he looked confused beyond anything else. This did not surprise Yoda, as he assumed it was something many of his faculty speculated amongst themselves. Few were quite as bold as Windu was in terms of voicing their hesitance, but this was something he admired about the Charms professor. The only other that had been more forward was Qui-Gon Jinn.

As an unexpected rainfall tapped against the stained glass windows of his office, his heart dipped in memory of his friend and colleague.

“About Tahl becoming Head of Ravenclaw house, this is not.” He said.

“No, it’s about Gunray.” Windu cut straight to it.

“Oh?” Yoda’s ear raised in curiosity, though he knew where this conversation was going.

“He’s clearly a Ministry plant, not to mention completely unqualified.”

In all his years, there had always been a bit of a notorious difference between what the Ministry’s belief of carrying on and Hogwarts’. He couldn’t formally speak as to what was correct, but did have the wisdom and understanding that politicians rarely did anything without an additional caveat to it.

Hogwarts simply wanted to keep its students safe and happy. Or at least, that’s what he wanted and after being cast away and hastily welcomed back the previous year, he could sympathize with Windu’s hesitance to trust any Ministry insertions amongst their own.

“More use to us than he is to them, should that be the case,” Yoda said.

Windu’s eyes widened a fraction, “You intend to use him.”

“Not use , Professor Windu,” Yoda chuckled in good nature, “Prefer the word “utilize”, I do. A resource, he shall be. Know it, he will not.”

“Does Valorum not recall that it was his choices pressured by his board of supporters that made all the wrong decisions last year? Not us?” He shook his head, “If anything, we should be spying on them!”

“Reveal he will, the Ministry’s intentions,” Yoda said calmly, “In due time, know what we are up against, we will.”

Windu nodded and slowly took a seat, relaxing a bit as he did. He was always most comfortable when he understood the full extent of a plan as possible. While he would indubitably make a fantastic Headmaster of his own one day, he still had much to learn on thriving in the unexpected and the unknown. Not everything could be planned for.

“So, we keep him on a short leash and observe what he’s looking for to figure out the Ministry’s angle.” He stroked his chin and then sighed, “That doesn’t solve our conundrum about his being seriously unqualified.”

“Little say, we have, over the new curriculum,” This was the hardest part to swallow by Yoda, “Offer as many resources as we can, we must.”

It was the fifth and seventh years, who had OWLs and NEWTs to complete at the end of the year, that would suffer the most. Yoda was truly hoping that they could uncover any secrets far before then and that they would be able to plead arguments and cases later on. For now, they needed to get to the bottom of the Ministry’s interest in Hogwarts.

It wasn’t like he had much say in it anyway. The best they could do was cooperate and hopefully twist it to their benefit. He could see the worry etched across Mace’s brow and sympathized with it greatly. Sometimes, they had to play the long con to get anywhere and he hoped he would understand.

“By the way we’re talking, it sounds like we’re at war with the Ministry, not the Sith.” Windu finally said.

“One or the other, handle we can.” Yoda took his own seat and folded his hands together on top of his desk, “Both, is what I fear.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” He said, “Dooku was a popular man and a powerful one, not just on a literal scale.”

“Many friends he had,” Yoda sighed, “Broken not so easily, they are.”

Obi-Wan had been completing his nightly rounds, trying desperately hard not to jump on the bandwagon of thinking of it as “the last first time” he would do this. Still, as he amicably chatted with the ghosts and poltergeists and walked the emptying halls with practiced confidence, it was tough to overlook how much had both changed and stayed the same.

“Kenobi, you still owe me for that Zillo Beast information!” Meetra Surik fluttered by with the usual disdain in her eyes towards Obi-Wan. Alongside her, Mission Vao only shrugged, shifting her blue lekku in the process.

“For the last time, Meetra, I don’t believe you are Cody’s type.” He didn’t add that while Cody never explicitly told Obi-Wan what his type was, he knew enough to know that the person needed to have a pulse.

“You just don’t want me to crash your precious trio.” She scowled, “If it worked for Hondo and Kreia then it can work for us!”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to deliver a rebuttal, but then closed it, “Wait, Hondo dated a ghost?”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal? You’ll all be ghosts one day! Better get a jump on who you want to spend the afterlife with!”

“Thanks, but I’ve got enough going on with this life.” He shrugged and continued on his way. He usually knew better than to engage too much with the ghosts. After all, they never had anywhere concrete to be. He’d learned the hard way his first year that with no concept of time, they literally would not stop talking unless told otherwise. It had been the only time he was tardy for a class and it had been embarrassing explaining to Professor Palpatine why this was the case.

“So rude, that one is! Gets to spend all day with the most beautiful boy at Hogwarts and is too focused on that blonde girl to set him up with anyone!” He heard her continuing her rant to Mission and briefly felt bad for the ghostly Twi’lek.

He halted in his tracks when he noticed a soft blue-tone light in what had previously been an empty classroom through all his years at Hogwarts. There were many of these, as locations of classes did shift based on the size that the class necessitated. However, it was the classroom that his 17th birthday party had been held in, so he knew it quite well.

Expecting to find a pair of snogging students or troublesome pranksters, he flushed quite red when he burst into an unsuspecting Professor Tahl as she stretched to set up a poster with musical notes and their meanings beneath them.

This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to meet his new Head of House, though with no disrespect meant towards Tahl, he didn’t quite want to face Qui-Gon’s replacement at all. Though he logically expected a professor to fill the role just as Qui-Gon had stepped up the previous year, that didn’t mean he was fully ready to acknowledge it.

Though, it seemed, fate had a different say on the matter.

“My apologies, Professor.” He swiftly made to turn on his heels as fast as he’d entered, but was stopped by the door closing before he could. He turned, finding her smiling brightly at him and her wand outstretched.

“Well, if you’re going to charge in like you own the place, you might as well help me, hm?” She teased lightly. “I thought the Head Boy was supposed to have manners.”

As a Noorian, where most would have whites to their eyes, hers were striped with green and gold. However, up close, he realized by the pale blueness of her irises and their lack of focus that she was blind. Immediately feeling an even deeper wash of guilt for not noticing and helping, in addition to his intrusion, he stumbled around the desk to scramble up the ladder to pin the poster to the wall.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He swallowed, “My name is-”

“-Obi-Wan Kenobi, yes I know you just as you know me.”

Obi-Wan didn’t ask her how she knew. It wasn’t like they’d met before for her to understand the tone of his voice. Then again, she’d had him pegged as the Head Boy upon his immediate entry.

“I expected you would be dropping in eventually, but I’ll admit, I didn’t predict it would be this soon,” She chuckled, “Though admittedly, your cocospirator beat you to it.”

“My-” He cut himself off with a glance down to her desk, finding the only thing on it to be a fruit assortment in a basket. Signed brightly on the card that stuck out on top in pink cursive was Satine Kryze’s signature. “Ah, yes, her.”

He couldn’t wait to tease her for being a suck up later. Then again, doing so would require explaining his embarrassing first meeting with their Head of House.

“She believed you wouldn’t be along for a while either,” Professor Tahl’s voice was almost unnaturally neutral when she spoke. It was as though she would not be the one to set the emotion of the room, instead choosing to feed off of it. It was likely useful when someone was trying to pry information from her, though he didn’t know enough about her to know if that was ever put to practice.

“I believed this classroom to be vacant,” He tried to explain as he fiddled with the tacks. “I’m on my scheduled patrol.”

He didn’t exactly need her to have the wrong idea about what he could be doing with an empty classroom either.

“I was supposed to be across the castle in the late Professor Jinn’s office.” She supplied. “But I liked this space better.”

Obi-Wan stilled, nearly dropping the final tack to the floor. There were hundreds of rooms within the castle and just like that they wanted to shuffle someone else in his office? He supposed it made sense in a way. That was where everyone expected the Ravenclaw Head of House to be now. Plus, Obi-Wan had helped clean it out of valuable trinkets at the end of the year.

“I just didn’t think that was right.” She added with more depth to her voice, “I’m not even teaching Muggle Studies, after all.”

The fact that she said anything at all in regards to Qui-Gon meant that she clearly knew him and not just in the way that they likely went to school together. She didn’t give much away, but it was enough to know that she didn’t want to step on his memory.

“You’re teaching… Music?” He leaned back to admire his work. It looked straight enough. He had to bite hard on his tongue from making the faux paux of asking her if she felt the same.

“I am.” She smiled, “Though I intend on comparing muggle and wizarding music theory, I can’t say I’m nearly as versed in muggle dealings as he was.”

“It’s been ages since Hogwarts has had a music class.” He said.

“I know,” She nodded and fiddled with the long dark braid that draped over her shoulder and down to her chest. “Not since I was in school here.”

“What made you want to come back?” Obi-Wan followed her as she started unpacking some of the boxes. After basically admitting he had no intentions of formally introducing himself tonight, he wanted to at the very least assist in any way he could. The person of whom he’d get in trouble with for staying out later than his patrol mandated was right in front of him anyway.

“I’ve lived a very adventurous life, Obi-Wan,” She said calmly, “Full of deep research and close integration with more cultures than I can name. I’ve learned so much and I believe I am finally ready to share it in a formal setting. Even if I am a bit too late on that front.”

“Well, you’re here,” He shrugged, “I reckon that means you can’t be too late. If anything, your extensive knowledge only makes you more qualified.”

“Wisely put,” She smiled sadly, “Though I am not speaking solely of teaching, exactly. You see, I’ve taught everywhere, constantly, and learned in the process. Music has bound me to my students and teachers in a way that cannot be disputed. That being said, I always knew I would end up back here, but I delayed and delayed with the excuse that there was more to see, to learn.”

“When there always is.” Obi-Wan nodded, “I understand.”

“Yes and no,” She nodded, “I explored, but what I was also doing was running and avoiding.”

“Running?”

“Missing out.” She smiled ruefully and then changed course abruptly, “Qui-Gon has told me much about you.”

“You were close.” He didn’t ask, “You and Qui-Gon.”

“Once upon a time, yes, when we were in school. We stayed in touch, but...” She trailed off and then placed a small box within the top drawer of her desk, “But we must live life in the present. That is why I’m here. To learn and to teach.”

“It sounds like you should be running a philosophy class rather than a music class.”

“If you were taking my class,” She winked, “You’d learn they were not that different.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure I’ll hear great things,” He smiled, “Both from your class and about your class.”

“My frog choir is going to knock your pressed socks off.” She said, determined in this statement. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about Qui-Gon either at the moment and if they were as close as Obi-Wan was beginning to believe was the case, he couldn’t blame her. She seemed like the kind of person that would amuse his mentor: worldly, intuitive, mysterious.

It was just a bit odd that he hadn’t mentioned her.

“I look forward to it,” He said and bowed a bit, “Well, I must be on my way. Tomorrow is a big day.”

“Ah, of course, the first day of school,” She agreed, “Many consider this to be the beginning of the end for seventh years, as the outside world awaits not long after.”

Obi-Wan’s gut twisted a bit at the thought of what that meant for him.

“But it’s not,” She said quietly, “It’s merely the end of the beginning.”

One of the things Anakin hadn’t grown quite used to since they returned to Hogwarts was the freedom that being there allowed him. The years before, he had been elated at all the nooks and crannies that begged to be explored and had assuredly done so, but he couldn’t bring himself to be as annoyed about the continued closure of the tunnels as he should have been.

Luckily, Obi-Wan never seemed to be too far off, even with his increased responsibilities as Head Boy and their differing houses between them. That much was comforting and served as a reminder that not everything had been taken from him.

Even as he returned from his Herbology class en route to his first Divination class, he stopped outside of Potions, knowing that Obi-Wan was surely the last one out of the classroom. Plus, it gave him the opportunity to see his own favorite professor for the first time since school started up again. After all, he didn’t have his class until the next day.

He leaned in, making sure they weren’t discussing anything important, and then remembered it was only the first day of school before entering and moving past the departing seventh years. Some gave him inquisitive looks, but others knew by now how close he was with Palpatine and Obi-Wan, alike.

“I am quite thrilled you have chosen the path of an Auror, Obi-Wan, and should you need any references, to you and your parents I would be more than happy to offer my services,” Palpatine had finished saying to an interested Obi-Wan. It was strange, he’d always thought Obi-Wan looked like a mini-adult in all of his time of knowing him, but now, standing over Palpatine in height and in stature, he actually looked like a real adult.

“I appreciate that, Professor. I’m sure this class will be most useful to further my education in preparation for the future.”

“Most of these methods are still used on the force today!” Palpatine chattered excitedly. “Fingerprints are still pulled with the sticky putty I invented years ago.”

“That’s most-” He was surely about to say something distinguished in response, but his tone changed to surprise as he noticed Anakin coming, “Anakin?”

Palpatine turned, his wrinkly face lighting up in elation as he caught sight of him, “What a pleasant surprise! To have two of my prized pupils in the same place at the same time.”

“It’s good to see you, Professor,” Anakin grinned, “I wanted to stop by sooner, but you know how the first day back goes.”

“Always on the move! Well, an idle mind is a foolish one, my dear boy. You know you are always welcome in my class!” Palpatine placed a hand on his shoulder, “I was absolutely ecstatic to hear that your summer with the Kenobi’s was a pleasant one and that they took good care of you.”

When Obi-Wan frowned in confusion, Anakin explained, “Oh, I wrote Professor Palpatine some questions about my homework. I might have mentioned the water slide your parents installed over the summer in the process.”

Looking between the two of them almost warily, Obi-Wan nodded and then checked his watch, “I see, well we really should be on our way. The warning bell is going to ring at any moment and it’s certainly not prompt to be late on the first day.”

“They really ought to give us more time to get to and from our classes,” Anakin complained, “How’s a guy supposed to carve out time to run to the loo?”

“You don’t use our breaks for that as is!” Obi-Wan reminded him pointedly, “Last period I caught you and Rex playing tag in the left wing.”

“Who gives detention on the first day of school?” He whined. “I wish there was recess here.”

“Recess?” Obi-Wan and Palpatine questioned.

“A time to play midway through the day! Muggle schools have it!”

“Ah, well, those muggles sure are… Innovative in how they choose to spend their time,” Palpatine smiled, “Perhaps, some day. Obi-Wan does have a point though. It seems he was not made Head Boy without reason.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Obi-Wan nodded and moved around Palpatine, “Come now, Anakin.”

When Anakin began to begrudgingly follow, Palpatine stretched out a hand, “Actually, Obi-Wan, if you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow Anakin just for a second.”

Obi-Wan looked as unsure as he did when Anakin mentioned writing letters over the summer, which was odd, but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. As Head Boy, he did have more power than most students, but not more than a professor. Either way, Anakin didn’t mind lagging back with Palpatine, even if he’d originally come with the intent of following Obi-Wan around.

“Yes, of course, I’ll see you later.” He nodded firmly and rigidly turned to go about his business.

“Is everything okay?” Anakin turned back to Palpatine, who watched him curiously. He moved around his desk and took a seat, extending an arm to ask Anakin to do the same.

“Yes, of course, my boy! I only wanted a moment alone with you to see how you were truly doing. While I’ll admit that you have become quite articulate in our correspondence, letters can only go so far in reflecting the human spirit.” He said, “So tell me, how are you doing?”

“They haven’t had any word about my mother.” He said with a sigh, “And I’m starting to feel like they’ve stopped trying.”

“Nonsense, Anakin, why would they ever give up on her like that? They’ve no reason to believe she would up and leave.” Palpatine shook his head, “Then again, I wish I could understand the decisions made by our governance more recently.”

“You mean Gunk-ray?” Anakin asked, “Because I had his class earlier, and I’m pretty sure he was holding his wand backwards all day.”

“Now, now, it would be improper to speak of a colleague in such a manner,” Though Anakin knew this was for show only, because he could see the grin stretch across his professor’s face before it even bloomed, “I was referring more so to their lackluster pursuit of Count Dooku. It’s as though they still don’t quite believe the Sith to be a true threat.”

“I think they’d lead to the same result anyway,” Anakin said, “If it wasn’t Dooku, I can’t possibly imagine anyone else being behind my mum’s disappearance.”

“I wish I could do more for you, I truly do,” Palpatine shook his head. “But, you need power and pull to acquire such knowledge. Maybe one day, when your friend Obi-Wan becomes an Auror, he can assist with this matter.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Anakin thought of that either. While it was clear Obi-Wan’s parents wished he’d pursued the law track in life, they had also begun to discuss the positives of having an official Auror in their back pocket. While Anakin couldn’t imagine the Kenobi’s breaking petty laws, they did seem to value information above all else.

“You said you’d give him a reference. Do you have friends that are Aurors?” Anakin asked.

“I have quite a few former pupils who went in that direction,” Palpatine said, “It’s an admirable track, where one must be brave, noble, wise, and cunning at all times- lest they lose more than just their jobs in the process. It’s one that I could see you excelling at in the future.”

“Really?” Anakin’s mind buzzed with the possibility of leading his own investigation in finding his mother, knowing then that he’d scour over every detail on the earth to find her, regardless of the consequences. It wouldn’t be unlike some of the defecting cop shows he watched on the tube sometimes.

“Truly,” He nodded kindly, “A few more years and you’ll be at the helm of making such a decision, just as Obi-Wan has.”

“Obi-Wan is going to be the best Auror ever,” Anakin admitted, “You should have seen how much he studied this summer. I’m pretty sure he understands every law that ever existed at this point.”

“He will be a force to be reckoned with,” Palpatine said, “In fact, I pity the dark soul that tries to go up against him. For as long as he is in the way of danger, I feel confident in saying that evil cannot win. It is wonderful that he has taken your protection and care so seriously.”

“You rang, my master?” Tyranus’s voice sounded watery like it always did when they communicated across the plains of a dream. Speaking by means of Floo network felt unwise with the growing presence of the Ministry seeping through the castle walls. Even if this was something that was ultimately necessary in Sidious’ master plan, it still made for more complications.

“This time, we are alone,” Sidious confirmed more to himself rather than his apprentice. The setting was simple- a small living room area of an old townhome. Between him and Tyranus, there was a billiard’s table that was fully lined and ready.

He handed him a cue and began to chalk off his own. Without speaking yet, he bent over and performed the break shot, deciding to choose solids over stripes in this round.

“The boy is able to slip into our conversations… Why?” Tyranus asked as he followed suit with his own move, hitting a bank shot on a striped 11 on the left hand corner. There were few that could match Sidious’ prowess at cue sports, but Tyranus was a worthy opponent in more ways than one. It was also what made him a formidable ally to have in his arsenal.

He secured another, but missed a bank shot by a hair, accidentally knocking one of Sidious’ own balls into a hole.

“He is the Chosen One,” Sidious replied and curved the 1 ball into the back corner hole, “Eventually, there is little he won’t be able to do.”

“Does that not make him a greater threat?” Tyranus said, watching him avidly, “They will be encouraging his growth now that I have shown the intentions of our cause.”

“You’ve shown what we want them to see,” Sidious cursed as he missed a shot, “And what we want, is to give a cause that will split this weak government down the middle, exposing all its flaws and hypocrisies.”

Tyranus, admittedly, had a bit of a streak on his own, only vanquishing it by accidentally committing a scratch play. Unlike Sidious, he didn’t display his disdain for the mistake, and remained completely stone-faced.

“I must admit, master, I do not understand why you have resigned to shift our focus for the time being.”

“Because, Lord Tyranus, this game we play is not unlike this game of billiards.” Sidious explained as he made two shots in a row, “If Skywalker is the 8 ball, then he is our goal and required for victory.”

“Yes, indeed,” Tyranus said and missed his shot on the 10 ball. “Should we leave him for Yoda to grow and to nourish, he will be secured and we will lose.”

“Focus, my apprentice,” Sidious said and pointed to the table, “I have but one ball left besides the 8 ball. Should I choose to ignore this solid blue 2 ball and aim for the 8 instead, what would happen? Do I win?”

“You lose,” He said. “The 8 ball must be taken out last.”

“Exactly,” Sidious pointed his stick at him, “The only way either party can secure the win is by removing the 8 ball from the equation. However, if done too preemptively, the entire operation falls apart and we are left with nothing.”

“But so are they,” Tyranus pinched his bearded chin, “Balance.”

“We are not looking for balance, Tyranus,” Sidious made his shot, securing the blue 2 in the middle right pocket with practiced ease. Then, he knelt down, bouncing the white cue ball against three different walls before gently tapping the 8 ball in its desired hole. “We are looking for victory.”

Staring at the green table for a moment longer, he finally met his dark eyes with Sidious’, “Kenobi is the final ball.”

“Indeed,” He scowled, “The pitiful excuse for a pureblood chooses to spend his time babysitting rather than utilizing his standing for better use. He disappoints his entire community, yet is heralded as a hero for destroying Maul. He will not allow anyone to get to Skywalker so long as he lives.”

“Then he cannot live.” Tyranus smirked, “If I didn't know better, master, I’d accuse you of trying to diminish the lineage of proteges that follow me.”

“You were always the best of your kind, Tyranus,” Sidious sniveled, “But it is Maul who destroyed your apprentice in the end, not I nor you, not even that dreadful excuse of a protege you took on last spring.”

“Kenobi destroyed Maul.”

“And I know that makes you mad,” Sidious said in a low voice, “That you did not receive the pleasure of doing so. That he did what you could not.”

“I will destroy the boy, rest assured,” He said with a calm sureness that would have been almost funny had he not been so serious. Tyranus never had any room for humor in his disposition, which saved a lot of time.

“Perhaps, we need not strike so blatantly,” Sidious shook his head, “He will never lead us to what we desire should this go the wrong way. Quite possibly, it could be the most painful yet.”

“And his mother?”

“A card that will be played in due time,” Sidious said, “But not yet. No, you will get your chance at Kenobi and eventually Skywalker as well, but we must follow a series of events first.”

“And what’s that?” Tyranus asked.

“We must play the game.” Sidious clenched his fist, crushing the stick in two between his hands. The insurmountable power behind rage had always been a delicacy he’d reveled in, ever since he could remember, and now was being afforded the luxury of drifting down memory lane, to when he first accepted darkness not just as his mistress, but as his life.

“I will figure something out.”

Conversation was abuzz in the Great Hall. Rumors had been flying about how Yoda’s big announcement would likely be revealed tonight. All students had been required to come to dinner and when they got there it seemed the room had been expanded. Satine had arrived earlier with Ben and the two had been busy directing students to sit with their houses tonight. More importantly to leave the two empty tables on each side of the room alone.

Now they were all impatiently waiting as Yoda and Windu talked quietly with one another. Satine had sat herself next to Ben at the head of Ravenclaw table. While not usually where they sat, they had chosen their seats to maintain order. No one knew what Yoda had alluded to, although the rumors ranged from integrating muggle technology into the school to getting rid of the houses. Satine doubted all that she had heard. For one thing, she knew muggle tech would make any pureblood’s head spin, and houses were quite important for organization if nothing else.

Finally, Windu stood and approached the podium at the front of the room and the crowd hushed instantly. The room felt quite exciting, even Ben sitting next to her was peering at the Professors in curiosity.

Not one to mince words, Windu got right to the point, “This year we will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament-” Unfortunately he got through no further explanation as the rest of the hall was filled with excited chatter. Satine balked, she’d heard of the tournament of course, but such an event was quite dangerous and rather unnecessary. She thought they’d outlawed such a thing. Her sentiments weren’t shared with the vast majority though because all over children were already planning to throw their hat in the ring.

“Silence!” Windu called, his voice booming with added magic from his wand and it certainly did the trick, “The Triwizard Tournament is a competition between three magical schools. This is a way to test the merits of each school and have a little fun while doing so,” Satine didn’t think so, if they wanted to test merits, then why not have a testing competition! Or perhaps a nice calm display of spells, “Only those 17 years old or older will be allowed to put their names in-” That was met with just as much angry disdain as she would have expected, but she felt it was only fair. A first year would never survive.

“The other schools will be joining us shortly,” Windu continued over their voices, but he looked sternly enough that most had quieted down, “Classes will continue as normal, but we will have to suspend a few after school activities, notably Quidditch-”

“WHAT?” Satine turned to see Cody, at the Gryffindor table, looking quite pale and his brothers eyeing him carefully. She winced. He’d been planning for this his whole summer and he wanted more than anything a chance to win the cup just once before graduating.

“Poor Cody,” Ben sympathized, but looked not at all perturbed from the standpoint of a player.

“Way to crush a boy’s dreams,” Satine complained, watching Gryffindor table carefully since their friend looked just about ready to faint, “This whole thing is utter nonsense.”

“It’s a little more intense than Quidditch,” Ben agreed, “But it is traditional-”

“A tradition they put off for how many years now? It’s dangerous!” She hissed.

Windu, who hadn’t been at all alarmed from Cody’s shouts (Satine privately assumed he’d expected it) continued on, “The Tournament will have 3 trials spaced across the year. Please be reminded that this will not exempt you from your school work,” He paused for the groans of fellow 7th years and then held a hand up to the sky, “Hogwarts welcomes our first partnering school, Beauxbatons!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth when across the skies mirrored in the ceiling a carriage flown by several pegasi soared over. Satine found herself gaping as it dipped and swooped before landing somewhere just out of sight. There were a few minutes of hushed silence before the doors creaked open and a tall lady with an overly long neck walked slowly inside followed closely by her students.

Her students walked orderly behind her, seemingly mostly in their 6th or 7th year. She supposed it would be hard to move their whole school across countries. They were all dressed in a powder blue uniform with a half cloak top. There were a variety of genders and species among them. One particularly pretty, green Twi’lek girl stood out from the crowd. At least Caleb Dume seemed to think so as he found himself quite literally knocked out of his seat.

Gryffindor table burst out into laughter and teasing, causing the tension to break across the room. Even the Beauxbaton kids couldn’t help but laugh. Their headmistress shushed them quite quickly and waved them off to sit at the far left table.

“Next, may I introduce Durmstrang,” Windu pointed to the windows overlooking the vast water spanning one side of the castle. There were a lot of surprised gasps as they all noticed what looked to be a huge ship sitting peacefully in the middle of the water.

The doors once again opened revealing a purple creature inching his way in. He looked a little young to be the headmaster, but Satine had read about the hutt species and they seemed to have long lifespans. His students shuffled in after him, in their red uniforms with a bit of fur. Definitely added more for style than warmth. One of the students wasn’t even wearing his uniform buttoned shut, instead leaving his abs out for all to see. He had darker skin and a yellow marking across the bridge of his nose. He was certainly where most people’s eyes and likely their conversations followed.

The Durmstrang students were seated at the far right table and their headmaster stood alongside the others. Yoda himself had somehow moved to stand beside them, she hadn’t even seen him get up.

“I am Nala Se or as you may call me Headmistress Se,” Her voice was quiet and yet it seemed to reach every corner of the room, “Beauxbatons was pleased to receive your invitation once again. My students are prepared for any challenge.”

“As are mine ,” The hutt moved forward a bit trying to dominate the conversation, though it seemed to fall a little flatter than hers had, “You can call me Headmaster Tiure. Durmstrang is so happy to have a chance to have a little friendly competition.”

“Thankful I am, for both schools to join us,” Yoda seemed oblivious to any competitiveness in his peers, “Ziro and Nala, I am thankful you have come,” He then turned to address his own students as well as the new additions, “Share our space, we will. Our home, Hogwarts is, but too, it is theirs, for now.”

“Tonight, we’ll have a feast,” Windu stepped forward again, “But tomorrow we’ve canceled morning classes in order to properly greet our new friends.” This seemed to brighten all students in the room, “For now we’ll leave you with this.”

Yoda and Mace raised their wands and from somewhere, hidden from all eyes until now, a huge glistening goblet descended into the room and was placed right at their feet. It was much bigger than Satine had guessed from her reading and covered in a smattering of gemstones in all sorts of colors. Magic never really ceased in its amazement.

“They weren’t kidding when they said this year would be interesting,” Ben’s eyes were full of intrigue as he eyed the cup and Satine felt her eyes narrow.

“Interesting indeed,” She hummed, “But a waste of time if you ask me.”

“It’ll be more interesting than watching Quidditch I’m sure,” He answered with a shrug.

“I’d rather not watch anyone wrestle a dragon or fight off an army of angry gnomes,” Satine stuck her nose up right as the food appeared on their table. Ben reached for a meat pie.

“Gnomes aren’t so bad,” He said, “But they do have sharp teeth.”

“It’s still dangerous , we’re children,” She pointed out, “We don’t even have to get our parents permission to enter and we need that for Hogsmeade!”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Ben glanced back up at the cup.

Anakin couldn’t help but laugh as the Gryffindor table had descended into chaos. Zeb was spooning more and more green foods onto Caleb’s plate since he “liked the color green so much.” Caleb himself looked just about ready to hide himself under the table and never come back out. This caused an awful lot of snickering from all around. The Fetts on the other hand were quite busy trying to snap Cody out of his stupor. Their Captain was absolutely gobsmacked by the easy dismissal of Quidditch in his last year. Rex also seemed a little subdued about the turn of events, any chance of him starting this year had been quite thoroughly crushed.

Anakin eyed the goblet. It was impressive, sparkly and eye-catching. He’d be more tempted to go after such a thing if he wasn’t already the chosen one. Plus, Rex friend had given him the rundown on how absolutely dangerous the whole thing was and he had no interest in adding any more of that onto his already full plate.

Speaking of plates, it seemed that Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had each gotten different foods then they had. He wondered if they’d get to try any dishes from the schools’ home countries. He was feeling a little more adventurous after his summer at the Kenobi’s. Maybe not enough to try snails though.

“The timing’s a little odd don’t you think?”

Anakin nearly choked on his meat pie. He managed to turn to see Padmé a few seats down from him warily eyeing the cup. She made eye contact with him and he blinked.

“Maul attacked the school just last year, and now we’re having a dangerous tournament,” She brushed her hair behind her ear and turned her gaze onto the headmasters, “It’ll be interesting meeting people from other schools, but surely we could use a normal year.”

“I dunno,” He said dumbly, truthfully it hadn’t occurred to him, “I guess Headmaster Yoda probably wouldn’t have decided it himself.”

“Maybe the ministry then,” She frowned, “I hope no one gets hurt.”

“It’s only for the older students,” Rex pointed out, “I’m sure they did that on purpose.”

“Yeah they can handle themselves,” Anakin agreed. He knew a fair few older students and all were very talented.

“Maybe, but no one’s invincible,” She turned and took a delicate sip of pumpkin juice, “Perhaps those first aid classes I took will come in handy.”

“If you’re helping out, they’ll be in good hands!” Anakin grinned.

Truthfully Obi-Wan had never seen his fellow students so excited to wake up in the morning, but despite the canceled classes, the common room was buzzing with activity. He scanned the crowd for Satine, and caught a glimpse of her short blond hair on the other side of the room. He waded through the crowd until he reached where she sat, half awake at a table with Stass and Aayla.

“Hey, Kenobi!” Aayla greeted, much more sunny in the mornings than Satine ever was, “Which do you prefer? Beauxbatons or Durmstrang’s uniform?”

He hummed in consideration as he leaned on the back of Satine’s chair, she hadn’t turned to berate him yet, so he assumed she didn’t mind, “Honestly? I prefer Hogwarts.”

“Boo!” Aayla complained.

“That’s a lame answer Obi-Wan,” Stass pointed out, “And it doesn’t answer the question.”

He shrugged, “I’ve toured both schools and although they are both wonderful institutions, I’m quite happy here. I don’t know if I’d look very good in red and I certainly couldn’t pull off Beauxbatons’ hat.”

“What about Satine then?” Aayla grinned, gleefully. Satine shot her head up and shot the other girl a glare. Aayla just shrugged, an innocent sort of look crossing her face, “Hey! We already decided that the blue would wash me out and Stass would probably pull both off.”

“Beauxbatons,” He answered easily and Satine looked up at him curiously; though he’d expected a stern expression for humoring them. Under her watchful gaze he looked away and stared across the room, “It would best match her eyes.”

Aayla was too busy cackling to respond, but Stass just looked between him and Satine before nodding, “An educated observation.”

Satine stood suddenly and looked over at him expectantly, “Isn’t it about time we go?”

“We’ll be there a little early-”

“I believe the Head Boy and Head Girl should always be ahead of schedule.”

He certainly wasn’t going to argue with her in the morning. Not about anything trivial at least.

She led him out of the common room, most knew to step aside when they saw Satine in the morning. A few first years had to be gently tugged away by older students, but they too, would soon know that a grumpy Satine Kryze, was not someone to be trifled with. He chuckled remembering a particularly rough morning when she’d lined up a group of third year troublemakers and pointed out every single uniform infraction she could find.

One boy even had his fly down!

“And what’s so funny?” She eyed him as she pushed the door open.

“Nothing really,” He responded, but it didn’t look like she bought it. It was silent for a few moments more, so Obi-Wan just took in the way the early morning light spilled through the stained glass in the empty hallway.

“So,” Satine was pointedly not looking at him and instead brushing her hands through her hair trying to tame it, “You think I look nice in blue?”

He cleared his throat, “As I said it best suits you- your eyes,” He didn’t want to come off as if he’d spent time on such thoughts. Truthfully she looked wonderful in anything, but he locked that away in his heart before his mother’s words could surface again, “I’m sure that would go for me too,” He had no idea. As she would be sure to tease him endlessly about it until the end of time, he could never say he knew much about fashion.

“Oh, sure,” She didn’t seem to have much of a response. Instead just reaching into her bag and pulling out the headband that matched her uniform.

Anakin ducked as a firecracker zoomed over his head. Unfortunately this was a surprise attack and Rex had not had the foresight to dodge. It exploded in his face, causing his eyebrows to be a little singed even after he angrily scrubbed the ash off his face. The fireworks just drew images of his surprised face all around the Gryffindor common room and Fives and Echo were cackling as they prepared to light another.

“Bloody hell those two,” Rex growled and Anakin just tried to brush a few pieces of cardboard out of his hair, “It’s too early for shenanigans.”

“Cheer up!” Fives called over to him, “We don’t have classes today so we should make the best of it!”

“Correction,” Rex turned to see Cody who had appeared just a pace behind him, “We don’t have early classes, we still have to go to our afternoon courses,” Cody didn’t look very happy about that either honestly. He knew his brother had taken the loss of his final Quidditch year hard.

“As if,” Echo popped up from where he’d had to duck under the table to avoid a rocket to the face, “No one’s actually going to go to class today.”

“I’m sure Dad would love to hear that you’re already skipping classes,” Cody threatened with a shrug, “Now come on, let’s go get this over with.”

Rex and Anakin followed him out of the common room, mostly to avoid being singed anymore than they already were. The rest of Gryffindor house followed suit.

“Cody?” Rex moved from Anakin’s side to look up at his brother, “What’s the point of this tournament anyways? They just pick some bloke out of the cup and make them do something dangerous?”

“Essentially,” Cody frowned, “But they don’t pick just anyone. They only pick the best of the best.”

“How?” Anakin trotted over to Cody’s other side.

Cody looked down at the two of them with a raised eyebrow, “Magic?” He shrugged, “The goblet selects one person from each school. Someone who’s brave and talented in spells and strong in mind. There would be no challenge really if it didn’t pick the very best each school had to offer,” And although Rex was quite sure he would prefer to best the other schools at his own game, his older brother did seem to be opening up to the idea.

“So why only let the older kids compete?” Anakin interrupted, “What if our best isn’t 17 years old yet?”

“Do you really want to see some first year students get their brains splattered on a wall?” Cody eyed him carefully. Anakin blanched and tripped over his feet, “This is no simple test. They used to let anybody join, but the injuries and occasional death really put a damper on everyone's mood. They rarely even host it anymore, this is a complete surprise-”

“But if the cup did pick a younger student,” Anakin tapped a finger against his chin, “Wouldn’t that mean that they could beat the tasks?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Rex piped up, “But most first years barely know how to hold a wand and even if they were a bit older… Well it just makes sense for it to be a student who’s pretty much learned everything.”

“I guess you're right,” Anakin shrugged, “Still it would be a great underdog story, don’t you think?”

“What would be?” Anakin did trip then nearly collided into Cody while Rex hid his laugh with a cough. Padmé Amidala was sitting at a table near the entrance to the courtyard. She’d paused her task to question them with a smile.

“Oh you know, if someone unexpectedly won the tournament,” Anakin explained sheepishly, “Won’t it be kind of boring if it ends up just being some obvious choice?”

“What like that muscle-y Durmstrang bloke?” Rex pointed out, but Anakin didn’t seem to appreciate his help.

“Yeah sure,” He agreed anyway.

“Well personally, I hope it’s not too eventful,” Padmé shrugged, “But you needn’t worry about it being boring, they say having the opportunity to watch a tournament is pretty much as exciting as it gets.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cody cut in.

“Oh!” Padmé seemed to remember herself before she leaned down and handed something to both Anakin and Rex.

It was a little square with their names written on it and Anakin looked at it with wide eyes, “Wow thanks!”

“What is it?” Rex asked point blank and Padmé just picked up a square with her name on it and set it gently on her robe where it seemed to stick with no effort whatsoever.

“Name tags! I volunteered to make all of Gryffindor’s,” She started handing the others out, “This way it’ll be easier to meet with our friends from the other schools.”

“How kind of you,” Anakin grinned.

Rex rolled his eyes at his friend as he pushed past him into the courtyard. Hufflepuff seemed to already be here in their entirety as did the other two schools.

He didn’t really know where to start.

It seemed like Yoda had been in charge of activities which wasn’t the best call considering Rex was sure he must have played with sticks and rocks as a kid. There was a bean bag toss and an old deflated ball that a few first years were trying to kick around without success. Rex did note the entire table dedicated to wizard sweets though and he immediately gravitated towards it.

“Oh wicked!” Anakin had appeared next to him again, clearly done schmoozing with Padmé for the time being, “They’ve got chocolate frogs.” Anakin didn’t waste any time already reaching to gather as many things as he could onto his plate when a gentle hand stopped him.

“Uh-uh Mr. Skywalker,” Ninety-Nine smiled down at them, “We’ve got limits on the sweets for a reason,” He pointed towards the sign and Rex sighed. Yes, that seemed much more likely than a free for all sweets fest.

“Alright, free sweets!” Echo, Fives, and Cody seemed to have eyed up the table just as he and Anakin had. Rex had to admire Ninety-Nine’s endless patience as he pointed out the rule to his other brothers.

Rex couldn’t admire much more after that than the dirt as someone rudely shoved him aside. He spat out a little grass turning, his head as Anakin scowled.

“Hey, watch it!” Anakin called to the group of rambunctious red uniforms. Rex pushed himself back to his feet just as the tallest one turned around and glared down at them. Rex automatically took a step back.

“Well,” he drawled out, “Long time no see, Rex. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Cody.” Pong Krell, older, yes, but still as ugly, sneered down at them.

“Krell,” Rex grit his teeth together.

“Thought we’d gotten rid of you,” Cody crossed his arms.

“So am I Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dum?” Echo just raised a bored looking eyebrow.

“Definitely Tweedle Dum,” Fives joked.

“Now boys,” Ninety-Nine stood in front of them. He knew of Krell from his brother's stories, but it didn’t stop him from trying to diffuse the situation, “Behave yourselves, I’d hate for anyone to get into trouble so early in the year.”

“Is that a threat?” Krell scoffed and his Durmstrang buddies snickered to themselves, “Not sure you’re really in the place of making such threats, tiny.” Cody took a step forward only to be blocked by Anakin and Rex, himself.

“I’m the person in charge of making sure your ship goes undisturbed,” Ninety-Nine said calmly, “And it is no threat, simply a statement.”

“Hogwarts is weak,” Krell shook his head, “There’s nothing in that water Durmstrang can’t handle,” His friends egged him on in the background, “And when I win the tournament, I’ll prove it.”

“You?” Cody laughed, “A coward like you won’t ever get picked, unless you’re the only one entering maybe.”

“I’d like to see you try the tournament,” Rex’s lips twitched up in a smirk, “I bet you’re not so hot when you're all on your own with no one to boss around. Isn’t that why you left in the first place?”

Krell growled, but turned back towards the sweets, “We’ll see who has the last laugh.”

Ninety-Nine seemed pleased that the tension between the two had simmered down, “Now I’m sure-” Whatever he was sure of however would not be known as Krell had stuck the end of his Durmstrang staff out just enough to catch Ninety-Nine’s ankle. The man fell hard, the breath getting knocked out of him and in an instant Echo had a hand on Cody and Fives as they both prepared to swing. Rex found himself on his knees, helping Ninety-Nine back to a standing position.

“I’d be happy to knock the smirk right off your face mate,” Fives tried to shake Echo off of him.

“Boys,” Ninety-Nine managed a breath and sent an extra pointed look towards Fives who stepped down begrudgingly, “It was certainly an accident,” It wasn’t though. Rex knew that, his brothers knew that, even Ninety-Nine himself knew that. It didn’t stop their eldest brother from sending them a shooing motion with his hands, “Let bygones be and why don’t you all go off and meet some new people,” Neither party moved for an agonizing few seconds before Cody turned and stormed away first without a word. Krell turned as well and slowly the only people left were Rex, Anakin, and Ninety-Nine.

“Ninety-Nine, why didn’t you tell them off?” Anakin asked, and Rex sent a similar confused look at his brother who simply smiled and dusted off his shirt.

“I did, didn’t I? They’re gone now,” He handed each of them a chocolate frog. Rex looked at his as it tried to hop out of his hands. He didn’t think his older brother quite got it. Krell was a menace, someone who had to be told off and gotten into trouble, you couldn’t just let him get away with anything.

Anakin seemed ready to sweep the whole thing under the rug for now, happily eating his frog. Rex however, wasn’t sure he could stomach anything other than frustration.

Satine hadn’t really ever considered the greater wizarding world at large. Surely she knew about it, she was well read and interested in anything and everything. That being said, the only exposure she’d ever had was Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and the few times she’d been to her friends' houses. It wasn’t a lot to go on truthfully.

So it was exceedingly interesting to talk to the other students and hear about what their schools looked like and what their wizarding customs were. Most she’d spoken with hadn’t seemed too interested in talking semantics, but a few had humored her and she’d tried not to get starry eyed at their descriptions.

The green twi’lek girl from the previous night, Hera she’d introduced herself as, had been one of the few to answer pretty much all of her questions and in turn she exchanged whatever things she could about Hogwarts and London. She’d been interesting, but before they could exchange much more Zeb had interrupted them with a red-faced Caleb. She knew when it was time to bow out.

She’d seen Cody a few times in the crowd, but he seemed to be in a rather sour mood. She’d thought it’d be about Quidditch until she caught sight of Pong Krell skulking around. He certainly had the capacity to ruin anyone’s mood.

She struggled to keep track of Obi-Wan, who seemed to appear and disappear between conversations so seamlessly she wondered if he was actually talking to anyone or just an aloof sort of chatter. She watched him laugh easily at a joke she doubted was actually humorous to him before transitioning to the group to his left as if he’d been there the whole time. He was well practiced, that she could say for sure.

Sooner than she’d have expected however they were all being shepherded to the great hall for lunch. She had to say despite the dangerous tournament looming ahead, everyone seemed to be in good spirits and when they reached the great hall, they all sat amongst each other, no house or school rivalries in sight. Satine would definitely admit that the community aspect of this tournament had thus far exceeded her expectations, she just hoped it would stay this way.

“Ventress? Lurking in the shadows hardly seems appropriate given the point is to engage with the masses,” Obi-Wan admonished as they’d been encouraged to head back inside. It was hardly purposeful now, but he still didn’t like the idea of Ventress plotting or scheming.

She scoffed at him, “Don’t pretend like you see a point in any of this.”

“Quite the contrary, I believe it’s important we all get along,” Obi-Wan said, even if he had admittedly not been giving his full focus to the day.

“Then you’re just as soft as the rest of them,” She rolled her eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to boast yourself as the mightiest warrior present?”

“No, that sounds more like your angle,” He said, “I suppose you’ll be tossing your name in the goblet.”

“These people need to be reminded of what true strength looks like,” She said, “And though it’s not imperative to my plans, yes I will.”

“Well, if you wish to get any backing, you ought to stop shooting everyone who comes your way a look that makes them desire a knife to the eye,” He commented.

“You’re charming to the last,” She glared, “Though I didn’t see you exactly breaking your back to make any new friends.”

“I met quite a few nice people today,” He responded neutrally, realizing this conversation wasn’t doing him any good. Interacting with Ventress never did.

“And you actually believe it’s going to do anything?” She asked, “Pretending that we’re all supposed to get along and hold hands and sing songs before we gleefully watch our champions rip each other apart?”

“I wouldn’t gleefully watch that,” He said.

“Because you’re a coward.” Ventress said simply, “And a poor representative to your lineage.”

Not the first time he’d heard that by far, “Perhaps, you should try aligning yourself with better people. You could use some practice based on your previous allies.”

She raised a thin silver brow at him, “And what would you know about making alliances, Kenobi? You’ve stuck by the same cabbage patch since you were a meek little first year. You’ve never made any real advances that will actually get you anywhere.”

“I like my friends,” He said, “And I intend on keeping them.”

“Ah, intentions,” She said loftily, “They never work out the way we want them to, do they?”

“I’ll let you know.” He said before turning sharply away from her the first chance he got and slipped next to Cody and the Fetts, who were angrily discussing a rather negative interaction with Pong Krell during the meet and greet.

“Pardon, am I hearing that correctly?” He asked, “Pong Krell is amongst the Durmstrang group that came abroad?”

“It would seem so,” Rex cursed and pounded a hand on the table, “He’s going to be nothing but trouble. So much for a quiet year.”

“No offense, but what about this year made you think it would be quiet?” Fives asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head, “Well, Krell wouldn’t be the first person to behave so abrasively towards the other schools. Not everyone is in support of unity.”

“He had other blokes with him,” Rex grunted, “I don’t get why this stupid tournament is even happening.”

“Frankly, neither do I.”

Residing at the front of the great hall, illuminating the stone lined walls with its azure glow, the location of the Goblet of Fire had quickly become something of a popular hangout spot for students of all houses and schools, alike. Per the rules, it would only glow for 24 hours after ignition, meaning that prospective students had exactly that amount of time to decide whether or not to enter.

Since it was a Saturday and most had little else to do besides wait and see who entered, no one wanted to miss a thing. If there was one thing Satine could appreciate about the added chaos that the competition brought, it was the unity it inspired among schools. She was rather thrilled to have an opportunity to speak to students from other wizarding schools.

“I’d never considered there being other schools when I first got accepted into Hogwarts.” She mused as she watched Caleb Dume try and fail to build up the courage to walk across the room and talk to Hera Syndulla of Beauxbatons. The green Twi’lek had just placed her own name in the goblet and was garnering enough attention as it was, meaning she hardly noticed the sixth year standing outside the circle.

“What? Did you think every witch and wizard in the world came to England ?” Cody scoffed.

“I was eleven, give me a break.” She rolled her eyes, “I hadn’t even known our school existed up until that point, let alone several others.”

“It’s always struck me as a bit weird that there are so few,” Obi-Wan drawled.

“How do you mean?” She asked.

“There’s only one in America, which while I’ve never visited myself, is supposedly quite big. China only has two and they’ve got ⅙ of the world’s population! India apparently doesn’t have one at all. The math simply does not add up.”

“We’re considered a rare breed,” Cody joked and then looked back to his homework, “What’d you get for number 7?”

“I’m not in DADA.” Satine reminded him. “Thankfully, from what I’ve heard about Gunray.”

“Oh, he’s dreadful,” Cody groaned, “I thought I didn’t know anything, but that bloke had a hard time opening his bloody briefcase the other day. He stuttered so much through the spell that a student had to help him.”

“I am concerned what this will mean for our NEWTs.” Obi-Wan grimaced. “Yesterday he tried to teach us how to perform a knockback jinx.”

She frowned, “We learned that first year.”

“Exactly my point.” Obi-Wan said.

“Does Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have to take the NEWTs?” Satine asked.

“It’s likely not the same test, but I’m sure they’ve got their own versions.” He said, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” She shrugged, “Frankly, I’m quite interested in what sort of curriculum the other schools run. You know, the differences in how they learn magic and how we learn magic.”

He grinned with interest, promptly closing his book much to Cody’s disdain, as he was clearly trying to peak over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I have read studies that show Durmstrang places a larger focus on physicality, meaning they likely know offensive spells we haven’t even heard of. As for Beauxbatons, they are more centered on mentality, placing greater efforts on mind tricks.”

“Do you think the lexical differences of our first languages affect the semantics of the spells and how they’re assembled?” She returned, “Like, since French is a romance language and Latin is not. What are the differences in how the spells are conveyed?”

“Oh, that would be a very interesting juxtaposition to make,” He stroked his chin and for a moment she was able to marvel at the return of brightness to his features, “Do you think they’ll show us some of their homework so we can examine it?”

“If we asked nicely, I’m certain of it.” She said, “You speak French, right?”

“Oui ma chérie," He smirked, “Découvrons à quoi ressemblent leurs devoirs.”

She flushed red and stammered, “Y-Yes, excellent,” as her heart and mind tried desperately to control itself and think about anything besides how lovely the language sounded coming from his lips.

“The most exciting and highly publicized event of the century and you two are trying to get yourselves more homework,” Cody shook his head, “I can hardly understand Gunray’s assignment in plain english let alone a second language!”

“You’re just bummed about Quidditch.” Obi-Wan said.

“Of bloody course I am!” He burst, “Where do they get off canceling a cultural phenomenon that has united the wizarding community for centuries?”

“Probably because they believe this to be a different phenomenon with that same purpose.” He said.

“Nothing is like Quidditch!” Cody shook his head vehemently. “I don’t care what they say. This would have been Gryffindor’s-”

“-Why did you have to get him started?” Satine sighed.

They weren’t given much of an opportunity to get up and complete their desired quest, anyway, because Anakin and Rex came running up to slide in front of them on the floor.

“Do you guys want to play a pick up game of cricket on the back lawn?” Anakin asked as he caught his breath, “Rex talked the twins into it and some Beauxbatons kids agreed to play too.”

“Anything is better than doing homework,” Cody conceded as he closed his own book. “I’ve got some steam to blow off.”

“You know that’s due on Monday.” Obi-Wan warned him.

“So I’ll do it on Sunday as the maker intended.” He grimaced, “Doing homework on a Saturday… Who am I? I’ll tell you, someone who’s spent far too much time with you nerds.”

Neither Satine nor Obi-Wan took the jab to heart, as it was the sort of response they were used to from Cody over the years. Their banter included referring to him as a jock and he retorted by calling them nerds. Obi-Wan crossed sides by playing Quidditch, but he did hate it, so she felt that counted him as more of a nerd.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Rex looked around at the other students that watched Eeth Koth pass through the protective charms and place his name in the Goblet of Fire. Like each time before it when a person’s name was offered, the parchment burst into ash amidst an emboldened bright blue flame.

“Yeah, this is like watching paint dry.” Anakin complained.

“Everyone is getting their bets ready for optimum earnings!” Hondo Ohnaka, who no one was talking to, helpfully supplied as he scooted his way down the row to be near them. “It’s a chaotic time for Hondo, as I have to watch every single person that enters and retrieve the odds at which people are betting on those people getting picked.”

“Are you even trying to keep your side hustle under wraps anymore?” Cody asked and gestured to Obi-Wan and Satine, “They’re prefects!”

“And Head Boy and Head Girl, which would make them formidable candidates.” Hondo raised his eyebrows up and down, “If either of you enter, I’d put 20% of my sum bet on each.”

“As if I would ever consider wasting my time on such a needlessly violent competition.” Satine rolled her eyes.

“Here we go,” Cody sighed.

“I’m serious! The TriWizard Tournament is attractive on paper, but all it really is are children thinking themselves adults and fighting nearly to the death for the benefit and amusement of actual adults. It’s sickening to think about all of the trauma that past contestants have endured.”

“Yeah, but think about all the glory!” Hondo emphasized.

“Glory?” Anakin asked.

“Kid, this is the first TriWizard Tournament in a century!” Cody explained, “Not only do you get loads of galleons for the efforts, but whoever wins this thing is automatically inducted into the Wizarding Hall of Fame and is basically set for life with connections and sponsors.”

“Sponsors?”

“Companies that essentially pay the champion to represent them through their brands,” Satine frowned, “It’s a big monopoly, I tell you. These companies pretend to care and be invested in the good of the kids and they just want to make money.”

“You know what they say, money buys happiness!” Hondo nodded sagely.

“No, that’s actually not what they say,” She sighed tiredly, “If anything, the reemergence of the tournament is proof of what dire straits our world has come to. We’re back to putting children up for slaughter for sport? That’s where we’re going.”

“You’re radicalizing what is basically an over spirited sporting event,” Cody said, “They’ve modified the rules to keep everyone safer this year.”

“Safer, not safe!” Satine emphasized.

“Are there dragons?” Anakin asked.

“Sometimes!” Cody and Hondo excitedly answered.

“Cool!” Rex and Anakin both exclaimed.

“I’m really not sure why I bother.” Satine shook her head.

“Well, I can appreciate a little old school tradition. It’s a chance to show the world what you’re made of and to represent your school,” Cody countered and pulled out his own small piece of ripped parchment, “And I bet Quidditch scouts would see my performance as something to consider too.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Satine groaned as he made a point to step over them, folded paper in hand, and waltzed right over to the glowing circle at the center of the room. She didn’t feel the same level of excitement that erupted from Gryffindor house when the flame grew bigger at Cody’s entry.

Instead, she felt fear for her friend.

“Just curious, Hondo, what are the odds my brother gets it?” Rex asked, pulling out some sickles.

“Not bad,” Hondo mused as they all watched Cody delicately place his name in the running. “It’s a good sign when the Goblet reacts at all, let alone grows .”

“Cody does have guts,” Rex chuckled, “Only a matter of time before he gets some glory too.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet over there,” Satine said, feeling desperately out of control by the terrifying reality that their friend could be placed in harm’s way should he be chosen, “I’m surprised you haven’t elected to verbally spar with me over my refusal to properly analyze traditionalism or some dither like that.”

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, I mean, you two are always going on about something,” Anakin said.

“I don’t entirely disagree with you, is that so hard to believe?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Sometimes, yes,” She said tightly, “Particularly when it involves my more intense belief system.”

“The tournament is essentially a big distraction from our academic calendar, of which we truly do not need. And with Dooku at large, it feels irresponsible.” He said, “Perhaps, under the correct circumstances, I could see the benefit, but now is not it.”

She tried not to burst into a big cheer at that. Instead, she settled for a small smile and professional nod, catching his eye, “I respect that.”

“You’re not gonna enter, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

“No, I’m not,” He said and Satine felt more of the tension roll off her shoulders at this admission.

“Why not? You’re going to be an Auror one day!” Anakin said, “Won’t they want to see you show off some moves?”

Obi-Wan smiled, “I appreciate the concern, but frankly, I’ve got enough to worry about with NEWTs and graduation to tie myself over for the time being. I’ll just allow someone else to have all the fun and excitement this year.”

“Really, I think our bunch has had enough of that.” She muttered.

“Maybe it’s Cody’s turn anyway,” Rex shrugged, “He could hold his own.”

Satine really hoped so as she looked over at their friend again, who was currently fist bumping the rest of his Quidditch team and talking about strategy. Of the two, she’d prefer it to be Cody over Ben in this contest, not because of the level at which she cared for him, but because he was built much better for something like this. The kid had taken and survived so many should-be fatal accidents in Quidditch that he knew what it meant to cheat death.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had been through enough trauma for the time being.

“Dammit, Kenobi,” Hondo whined and stood up to storm off, “I would have made so much money…”

“Why not enter for yourself, Hondo?” Obi-Wan asked, “Flip the script?”

“What do you think I am? Some sort of superhero? Compete and be the best bookie in the game? Hondo only has two arms, Kenobi.”

“Sorry I asked,” He winced and then shared a smile with Satine, “Now, shall we go snoop on the other schools to find out what their curriculum is like?”

“It’s a date,” She winked.

And then, as though a switch had been flicked within him, he straightened and leaned back, placing some strange amount of space between them suddenly as though she had just belched in his face, “You know, for research purposes only.”

“Not sure what other purposes there would be, but alright.” She said slowly.

As relieved as she was that he wouldn’t be entertaining the idea of entering, she had no idea what on earth had gotten into him lately. Still, she was going to count her losses and take the win for now.

“Oh look, there’s Padmé! We should ask her if she wants to play.” Anakin said, but before he could jog over, was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Careful!” Rex hissed, “You almost stepped in the circle!”

“So, what’s the worst that could happen?” Anakin rolled his eyes, but flinched at the deafening sound of an explosion behind them. The room was aghast with shock as they all turned to see Caleb Dume, covered in soot with every hair on his head sticking straight up. Evidently, he’d stepped within the aforementioned circle and was launched several meters back. If it were possible to glow red beneath the dupree caked on his face, he surely would.

“I’ll be 17 in six months!” He complained to Professor Windu, who was likely already writing out a detention slip.

“That happens,” Rex deadpanned when everything resumed back to normal. Well, if normal was everyone consumed with jokes about the look on Caleb’s face when he went flying and how apparently he was trying to impress some girl. Anakin didn’t bother to pay much attention to all of that.

“Oh, good call,” Anakin said, “Now, let’s go ask Padmé.”

“Kenobi did say he might join us later.” He said, “We don’t want to overstuff the teams.”

“Please,” Anakin rolled his eyes, “When he and Satine start hypothesizing together there’s no stopping them. They’ll probably blink and it’ll be next week before they remember us.”

“I dunno, mate, he’s seemed pretty glued by your side recently.” His friend pointed out, “I think he’ll notice before then, at least.”

“Either way, it’s Padmé , Rex,” He leveled with him, noticing that they were around the same height this year. Maybe he was finally hitting his much-awaited growth spurt. Despite this possibility, it didn’t seem to intimidate Rex into immediate conviction.

“The very same Padmé that you said you were going to try being friends with, remember?”

“Like it was yesterday,” And not for how scathing the rejection had initially felt.

“Which doesn’t mean biding time and acting like friends until you ask her out,” Rex clarified, “Just so we’re clear.”

“I know, I know,” Anakin waved a hand at him, “I’m asking her to play cricket with us, not marry me.”

“The cricket rings would be the closest thing you have to a ring anyway.” He quipped.

“That’s croquet, Rex.”

“Oh, well either way!”

“Either way, we’re inviting her. Hey, Padmé!” Anakin approached the small brunette sitting on one of the bleachers with her friends, “Do you girls want to come play with us?”

“You could have made that sound a little cooler, mate.” Rex murmured from beside him, “We are 13 now.”

“Play cricket, that is!” Anakin immediately corrected, “Not like dolls or any of that baby stuff.”

Padmé and her friends exchanged looks before giggling amongst themselves, a reaction that Anakin wasn’t sure whether he should feel positive or negative about. He’d witnessed the whole “fake laughter” thing from girls in his previous schools growing up, but he never pegged Padmé for the sort.

As it was, her smile did seem genuine. “I’d love to, but aren’t you interested in who’s entering the competition?”

He shrugged, trying not to seem completely disappointed that “I guess, but we won’t know until tomorrow afternoon anyway. That’s like… forever.”

She laughed again, “Maybe later, but I appreciate the offer. Who are you playing?”

“Beauxbatons since Rex won’t play Durmstrang.” He said.

“Why not Durmstrang?” She frowned.

“They disrespected my brother.” Rex said gruffly, “And that’s a line you can’t uncross.”

“I’m still not sure that Krell can be a good representative of an entire-” Though Anakin shut his trap at Rex’s lethal glare and cleared his throat, “Yeah, we’ve got some bad blood.”

“A bit early for that, since the tournament hasn’t even started,” Sabé said from beside Padmé. She was always on Padmé’s right, no matter what. Anakin sometimes wondered if it was intentional since it was so frequent. Most might not notice, but Anakin did spend the greater part of two years staring at Padmé whenever she walked by, so he picked up on a few things.

“Well, school spirit and all that,” Anakin shrugged, “Which sounds good and fine, but I personally can’t sit still long enough to wait until someone else accidentally blows themself up again.”

“Fair enough,” Padmé smiled. “I’ll let you know if that happens.”

“Thanks,” He smiled and waved at her and her friends before turning on his heels with Rex in tow.

“I knew they wouldn’t want to play. No one can think about anything else but this tournament.” Rex said, “Especially not some game named after a bug.”

“It’s fun, Rex!” Anakin said indignantly, “Maybe we’ll start a tournament of our own!”

“That would require people to play.” Rex retorted.

“Play what, boys?” Professor Palpatine asked as he was shutting the door to his classroom. It wasn’t uncommon for professors to get work done after hours, particularly if they lived in the castle like Palpatine did. However, it never felt completely normal for Anakin to run into his professors on the weekends.

“Oh, we’re playing a game of cricket!” He chirped, “I don’t know if you’ll want to run, sir, but you can keep score if you want.”

“You certainly know how to make an old man feel young, Anakin.” Palpatine laughed, “But I must decline. I’ve actually got a very important dinner to get to.”

“Dinner? It’s 2 pm! Is that like an early bird special?”

Rex elbowed him in the ribs pretty hard, but Palpatine seemed tickled by the comment and held his stomach from laughing so hard. He needed a moment to take a sip from the little bottle he kept in his robe pockets. Anakin never knew what was in it, but it always seemed to refresh the old man.

“No, no, but public figures do tend to talk for a while, making dinner last longer.” He smiled, “But you can walk me out if you see fit.”

“Okay,” Anakin and Rex both agreed, but Rex didn’t seem nearly as eager as Anakin was, “Are you excited about the tournament?”

“I am always a massive fan of reinstating tradition, boys,” Palpatine smiled, “So much of the progressive movements in today’s world are grand, but I do fear sometimes we lose pieces of what our forefathers taught us in the process. This tournament represents the best of us and how we endure.”

“That’s what Cody thinks too.” Rex said. “Well, he didn’t say it that clearly, but I think that’s what he thinks.”

“I’m not surprised at all that your brave brother volunteered.” Palpatine said, “He’d be a worthy adversary, that’s for sure. Many of this year’s seventh years would be, actually.”

“Hondo is taking bets on who gets picked,” Anakin snorted, “I’d say Cody has the best shot for Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Not Obi-Wan?” Palpatine asked, “He is the Head Boy and representative of the school as a whole. He’s certainly a skilled wizard and has the bright mind to succeed.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan isn’t entering,” Anakin shrugged, “But anyway, do you think there will be dragons this year? I hear that’s a possibility.”

Palpatine’s smile flickered and he completely stopped in his tracks, “Obi-Wan isn’t entering?”

“No, he says he’s too busy,” Rex supplied.

“That’s… Interesting.” Palpatine swallowed tightly, “I suppose his parents have had a change of heart then.”

“I doubt they know,” Anakin said, “I mean, he’s not big on writing them for some reason.”

“No… I would imagine not,” He pondered somewhere in the distance, far from where they walked in tandem, “Well, I must be on my way, boys. I would love to have this talk of dragons and sorcery another time, if that’s alright with you?”

“Is everything alright, Professor?” Anakin asked, “You look a little tense?”

Immediately, Palpatine softened, “It’s heartwarming of you to worry for me, my boy, but really, I’m just not feeling too well.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to the dinner then,” Rex offered.

“I’ll be fine,” Palpatine insisted kindly, “Now, good luck on your game!”

Asajj Ventress had been amongst the first to put her name in the Goblet of Fire, even if she knew that the consequences of her name being picked could be grave. However, stepping even a toe out of line seemed all the more lethal at the moment. She wasn’t a fool and knew what this tournament would mean for her adoptive family.

Even more so, she fantasized about it garnering attention from her bloodline.

A foolish thought, cultivated by the same meager desires of her youth. That same despicable urge to fit in that never quite came. Eventually, it hardened, as all once soft and fleshy wounds do. However, the past was never forgotten.

“Careful, if you stare any harder at that goblet, it might turn to stone,” A smug voice said from somewhere behind her.

She turned, prepared to glower at whoever would dare to make such a poignant joke to her of all people. No one had been so bold about bringing up her past indiscretions, even if the past was truly never gone. However, it wasn’t a student from Hogwarts that chose to challenge her, but a Durmstrang boy.

And none other than their prized poster boy, Quinlan Vos, posed with one leg up on the bleacher and leaning on his knee. It was obvious he was trying to give her his most cockamamie grin to charm her into buying his antics, but she knew his type. They’ve had their fair share of hot-shot pretty boys pass through Hogwarts too and they were never worth wasting time on.

“Was that supposed to be funny?” She returned, not bothering to sound remotely bothered or put out by his interruption of her brooding.

“Well, it was supposed to get you to unclench your jaw a little bit there,” He pointed at her jawline and she swatted his hand away without question. Instead of looking offended, he only seemed amused, “I’m Quinlan.”

“Yes, I know,” She rolled her eyes and looked back to where Hondo Ohnaka was trying to get more people to put their names in the Goblet of Fire.

“You know.” He said, not giving up and taking a seat beside her. He wasn’t quite in her space since they weren’t touching, but he wasn’t backing away either, “Well, that’s pretty unfair, seeing as I don’t know you.”

“And you expect me to just hand that information over so easily?” She shook her head, “And you expect to be a chosen Champion.”

“I’d like to think I’ve got other contributing strengths,” He shrugged and even from the corner of her eye she could see that he was flexing his noticeably toned arms. They were so noticeable, of course, because his shirt didn’t have sleeves. This was a trait that was quite popular amongst most male students already, especially those that wanted to garner the same attention.

“If you would like someone to polish your ego, I believe there’s a band of harpies just across the way that would be most interested in doing so,” She scoffed, “I’ve got plans of my own.”

Ever since Durmstrang’s arrival, Quinlan Vos couldn’t go anywhere without a little troop of girls following him like a shadow. Worst of all, Vos didn’t seem to give it much thought. Clearly, this was a regular occurrence in his life.

“I wasn’t recruiting,” He joked, “I saw you enter earlier and was just trying to stake out the possible competition.”

“Exercise some brain power for a change and do your own research,” She said and stood up, looking down on him, “Because nothing will be given to you easily here at Hogwarts.”

The long-haired bloke still didn’t have the decency to appear offended nor concerned by her severity and raised his hands in defeat, “Message received, scary lady.”

“You can do better than that,” She stepped over the bleacher in front of her, ready to be on her way.

“It’s sweet that you think that.” He smirked.

“The fact that you believe I’m sweet is proof enough that you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into here, Vos.” She called over her shoulder.

“Maybe, but I look forward to finding out.” He answered.

Great, just what Ventress needed, another idiot to deal with.

Just as Sheev Palpatine took care of gathering all of his favorite students every year in celebration of their successes and with the hopes of collecting them for future use, he did the same for parents. It was less along the lines of utilizing them for connections as he would later with their children. Adults, while just as foolish in their own ways, would not be as easy going about bending to his will. Instead, he allowed it to be perceived that he was the one being collected in this scenario.

He was their good-natured, inside source as to what was going on in the school.

He looked out for their children and would flourish their careers if they got in good with him.

He was the last remnant of a dying age that they so desperately wanted to hold onto, even if they couldn’t publicly say as much.

And that was something to be celebrated. So, the beginning of every term meant one of these dinners, hosted by none other than Kenobis. That was just as good with Palpatine, as it was more like two birds with one stone now that they’ve taken Anakin in.

For once, his sights were not set on Skywalker, but their often forgotten son. Palpatine would not make the same mistake as them. He saw how proficient Obi-Wan Kenobi was and his ability to take out Maul with nothing more than feral energy and emotion meant for something ruthless in the future, should he be allowed to go on.

Which, incidentally, he would not.

“We wanted to thank you for swaying the vote in bringing back the TriWizard competition, Sheev,” Anoth Ventress raised a glass, “I know Asajj is most excited.”

“She’s entered, I’m assuming?” He asked.

“But of course she has!” She laughed haughtily, “What powerful witch with hopes of a prominent future wouldn’t?”

“With those carbon freezing powers, she’s got a bit of a head start.” Madame Scarlet Scintel purred from across the table, “I’m sure she’s looking forward to it.”

“You are merely jealous that your daughter does not get to represent you.” Anoth scoffed, “The fact that they set an age limit shows just how weak this society has become.”

“My great grandfather was a fourth year student and he won the tournament.” Lu Mai huffed, “Everyone has gone soft.”

“I second that,” Obi-Diah Kenobi added, “Plus, there’s no respect anymore.”

“That stunt at the train platform? Abominable.” Wilbur Tarkin sneered, “I’m drawing to the point of embarrassment.”

“And they’re allowing muggle borns to enter the tournament!” Wanda Kenobi shook her head, “It’s criminally unfair, not just to the roots that our ancestors bled for, but for them! They say they want to protect them, but even the most decent muggle-born wizard would fall flat in comparison to someone who has known magic their entire life.”

“It’s that Headmaster Yoda, I tell you.” Tarkin scowled, “He is always trying to pander to the minority factions that cry louder than most.”

“Either way, the Goblet is the same from centuries ago,” Scintel reminded them, “It still has the properties to only choose the best witches and wizards of the bunch.”

“We have nothing to fear then. Primarily purebloods and half-bloods enter.” Anoth added with a sniff. Her skin was paler than the china plates before them.

“Any self-respecting pureblood, that is,” Obi-Diah shook his head. “Some of these kids these days are despicable… They don’t deserve the title.”

“Yes, well, surely there are admirable reasons not to participate in the tournament.” Palpatine knew he had to play his cards correctly. Even at these dinners, surrounded by elites that were meant to be of similar mind, he always had to play the unassuming ally. He couldn’t come right out and say it in the accusatory tone that he felt.

“Nonsense, Professor, I respect your opinion, but choosing not to at the very least volunteer to display your talents and worth is basically announcing that you are a meaningless coward. I could understand why muggle-born’s wouldn’t, because they’d die, but purebloods have no reason not to.”

“I’m surprised you feel that way, Mr. Kenobi,” Palpatine sighed, “Because, well, no, I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what, Sheev?” Tarkin asked.

“You know I never want to instigate matters,” He dabbed his mouth with the cloth napkin that had previously been resting on his lap, if only to have something to briefly cover the way his lips tried to twitch into a smile.

“You deliver the truth and fact that most would not,” Wanda said and patted his hand with hers. They were terribly cold and not comforting in the slightest. Luckily, Palpatine only needed to pretend to be, “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

“Well… So long as you promise not to be angry, I only share this information because I feel as parents, you are entitled to know what your children are placing their futures. And because I, myself, couldn’t believe it when I heard it from my valuable source.”

“Yes, of course, we promise.” Obi-Diah said. “We will be the picture of calm and understanding.”

“OBI-WAN KENOBI IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR DISGRACEFUL, ENTITLED, LACKADAISICAL ARSE OUT OF BED THIS INSTANT, YOU WILL WISH WE ALLOWED THAT RIDICULOUS SEAWEED ALLERGIC REACTION TO SWELL YOUR FACE INTO THE SIZE OF A BALLOON UNTIL YOU POPPED.”

Obi-Wan startled forward so fast, hardly registering the leap from dreams to reality, and slamming his forehead against one of the bedposts that propped up his four-poster bed. Not sparing a moment to wince in pain, he scrambled through the dark, pulling back the curtains to the very displeased and cranky roommates that likely also wanted him out of bed and out of their hair.

His eyes flew to the source of the sound, finding their disgruntled family owl, Arfour, at the windowsill, an open red howler latched in its maroon claws.

“I was supposed to open that myself you mangy-” He reached for the bird and recoiled when he received nothing more than a sharp peck on the hand.

“AND IF YOU LAY A FINGER ON OUR PRECIOUS OWL’S HEAD YOU WILL ANSWER TO YOUR FATHER, YOUNG MAN, WHO IS SO BEYOND ENRAGED WITH YOU THAT HE CANNOT EVEN FIND THE WORDS TO COMMUNICATE VIA HOWLER.”

If only he could say the same about his mother.

“Shut that bloody thing off!” Someone shouted.

“I’m trying!” He said as he chased the fluttering owl around the room, effectively stubbing his toe in the process and cursing before he could stop himself. A few younger boys giggled at the sight of their Head Boy running around in a circus suit at this ungodly hour, chasing a squawking owl.

“Some keeper we have,” Muttered Jax Paven, “Can’t even catch a bloody bird.”

Finally, with the assistance of Eeth Koth and Cin Drallig, he was able to catch the shrieking letter and silence it by crumpling it in his hands. He had to hold it tight, as while the status quo for most howlers, it was never fully finished until whatever the writer wrote was properly shouted. As it were, he knew his mother could be very long winded if she chose to be.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Cin asked tiredly, “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, you do,” Eeth joked.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, “I suppose I should Floo them to find out.”

“Downstairs, please,” Eeth frowned, “Some of us don’t want to start our day at 2 am.”

He nodded, drifting down the stairs with a firm fist around the ball of parchment, feeling it vibrate in his hand from its rant. On his way, he snagged a spare jar and his wand on the way. Once through the bookshelf and closing it carefully behind him, he stood still in the center of the common room, hoping that the ruckus didn’t wake the girls as well. He’d hardly hear the end of it from Satine if he had.

When all seemed well and the only shuffling that could be heard was from the boy’s end, he took a seat on the couch and carefully jinxed the jar to absorb all sound before shoving the aggravated letter inside and sealing it shut. He could still make out the words that the howler mouthed, but placed it behind him and frowned towards the fireplace.

Before he could make the move to call his parents, his mother and father’s combined faces (a startling sight without their disapproving gaze) appeared before him without warning.

“Mother, Father,” He nodded cordially, like he wasn’t ripped from slumber in the middle of the night for what was surely going to be a verbal beating.

“Don’t “Mother, Father” us, boy.” His Father started off hot and that wasn’t simply because his face was made of firewood and crackling flames. “For any son of mine would never spit on his legacy as you’ve chosen to do so.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following,” He admitted.

“He’s not- Are you completely daft?” His mother gasped, “You have embarrassed us beyond repenting and hadn’t even possessed the courtesy to inform us prior. It would be one thing if you possessed the will to do so on your own accord, but clearly, it’s simply carelessness that has driven you.”

“Carelessness for what?” Obi-Wan frowned, “I assure you, my grades are already-”

“-This isn’t about your grades !” His father spat, “This is about you once again disavowing your namesake and bloodline at every turn. I know you possess great ability within you or else you would not be where you are now.”

“And instead of choosing to showcase your family’s hard work, you opt for the easy way out,” She added just as cross. “Where did we go wrong?”

“This isn't about the tournament, is it?” It was the only thing he supposed they could be referring to, actually.

“Ah, so his head is capable of more than growing hair,” His father grunted, “You do realize that the Kenobi family tree isn’t just ensconced in participants in this tournament, but champions of it.”

“Back before they were all called “champions” like some participation award.” His mother muttered under her breath.

“I was aware,” Obi-Wan said, “I don’t believe now is the most optimum time to have such a broadcasted competition. Not to mention, I have enough going on between NEWTs and-”

“Grades are meaningless should you acquire the necessary glory that this tournament bestows, Obi-Wan.” His father said, “And what sort of Auror thinks like that, anyway?”

“The soft kind, like those meager souls at King’s Cross.” His mother sniffed, “Certainly not anyone worth recruiting.”

“You’ve said it yourself that my primary priority is to look out for Anakin this year.” The only chance he had at getting through to him was by using their own words. “Dooku is still going to be after him.”

“What Anakin needs is an example.” His mother said, “And what sort would you be by backing down at every challenge that approached you?”

“And how is he to feel protected by someone of your paltry merit?” The longer this conversation went on, the more Obi-Wan could hear how their inflections dipped from the throes of alcohol fueling their words, “Stop lying to yourself and say it. You don’t give a damn about this family and what it would do to us if you didn’t so much as show face and put your name forth.”

“That’s not true.” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“I think he knows he won’t be chosen,” His mother added, “To be chosen is to be the best.”

“And how does it feel to be counted out so soon?” He asked, “To know that because of this indiscretion that we will be forever targeted? To know that forevermore, you have failed those that love you?”

Anakin wasn’t sure he liked how used to waking up in the middle of the night he was getting. His dreams were often dark and swirled around his head like a cloud of smoke. He didn’t even remember them half the time, and the other half left him confused. This time it was the former, he huffed in frustration rolling around his bed trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep, but really he was awake and there was no sense in trying.

It was dark in the room and all the boys were snoring soundly so he knew he wouldn’t be getting away with playing or waking anyone up to plot with him.

And Qui-Gon wasn’t around anymore.

Of the things he could do in the middle of the night without punishment it looked like reading a book or working on homework was top of the list. Neither seemed appealing. His thoughts turned to the game of cricket they’d played, Hogwarts had won. Beauxbatons had given them a good run though. It was a shame Obi-Wan hadn’t ever joined them, not that Anakin needed him to have a good time.

His thoughts flickered to Professor Palpatine. The head of Slytherin house had said he wasn’t feeling well, Anakin hoped he made it back from the banquet okay. His thoughts paused as he stared up at the ceiling.

Maybe he’d just go and check on him.

It was a nice thing to do and he doubted the other professors would be too harsh if he was caught. He stood, grabbing his wand, but not bothering with shoes and he padded down the stairs into the common room and snuck his way out of the portrait hole.

The paintings were asleep, but the ghosts were still roaming. Shimmering silver trails followed them as they moved about the castle. Anakin doubted they’d be too focused on a student out of bed, but he wasn’t going to take any extra chances.

He tiptoed his way through the halls, purposely taking long back routes in case anyone was on patrol, but it was silent nearly all the way to Palpatine’s office.

When he was a few corners away, however, he heard frantic whispering and he froze, hiding in the shadow of a knight before slowly creeping forward. It didn’t sound like adult voices, but ones of other kids. Anakin was here because he was bored after all, he certainly wasn’t opposed to a little harmless trouble making.

He followed the sounds until he rounded a corner and a gross, smelly hand was pressed over his mouth.

Sebulba and a group of younger students were all looking at him with caution, or in the former’s case, a sneer.

“Quiet Sky-talker we’re trying not to get caught,” Anakin ripped his hand away from his mouth and scrubbed roughly at it with a sleeve.

“Me? I could hear you all whispering from halfway across the castle!” Anakin whispered back. That definitely sobered the crowd.

“We need to hurry!” A Hufflepuff 4th year urged from the back.

“What are you all doing anyway?” It wasn’t Sebulba’s normal crew, in fact most among the crowd looked like they didn’t have much to do with each other outside of this very moment.

“Didn’t you hear?” Sebulba smacked the back of his head, “Gunk-ray’s assigned to reset the charms on the cup tonight.”

“Well that’s going to go poorly,” Anakin frowned.

“Exactly,” the dug hissed, “We’re going to stick our names in before someone better figures it out.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. They were all going to enter the tournament? Surely none of them would be picked.

“Are you coming or not?” Sebulba shoved past him and Anakin felt himself match step with the other students. His heart thudded in his chest, would he enter the tournament?

“Why enter? It’s just a pissing contest,” Anakin hissed, pushing his way up to Sebulba’s right. The dug rolled his eyes and made a good attempt to trip Anakin, forcing him to take a step back.

“Fame, glory, but more importantly, money,” He sneered, “Wouldn’t know much about that though would you?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Try again!” Anakin gestured to his robes, brand new this year, courtesy of his hosts.

“Yeah, but it’s not your money, do you really think they’ll buy you anything ?” Anakin hated that Sebulba was correct. Although he’d gotten plenty of shiny new things there was one thing he’d asked for and been rejected on all summer long. Paying for an investigation into his mother’s disappearance. He’d gotten the idea from a movie he remembered seeing and he had asked many times, but kept getting misdirected and never given a real answer. He eyed the Slytherin who was peeking around a corner checking both ways. If he won money he could do whatever he wanted.

He was handed a quill and a piece of torn parchment by a fifth year and he found himself writing his name on it swiftly before passing the feather back. They continued in silence, any more idle chatter was immediately hushed until they crept up to the entrance of the great hall. The place was deserted, but Gunray had definitely been there because the once straight outline around the cup was wavy and uncertain with a spilled potion nearby. Sebulba waved them all in and stood just at the edge of the line. He tested it with a hand which… passed right through the barrier with no trouble.

Hushed gasps and a few cheers were immediately silenced, all turning to glance at the door. Sebulba wasted no time dropping his parchment in the fire. It did little more than hiss at him, but he still looked quite pleased. The others fell into a line quickly putting their names in before hurrying out of the great hall.

Anakin was almost to the cup. It glittered at him like many of the Kenobi’s old antiques had, he was sure it was just as old. The flames were low, but he was thinking about the conversations he’d had surrounding the thing. Eternal glory.

Such a thing would strike fear into his enemies he assumed, maybe winning this would be a way to get stronger. He threw his parchment in and his hand moved out of the way just in time for the flame to rise suddenly. The other students looked at him, but he just shrugged. He was the chosen one.

As the light died down to a quiet yellow it reminded him of his last summer with his mum. A bright yellow sun shining down at them as they made time to walk through the park. His heart only beat faster as the flames fell to a dull blue again. If he could get in, could get chosen, could win… he’d be one step closer to finding her.

“Someone’s coming!” A student hissed and all froze before making a run for the door. Anakin too could hear the clacking of shoes as a pair of wizards neared them. Anakin did what he was rather good at and squeezed between a statue and the wall. As students scattered like roaches.

“I insist Gunray,” It was Windu, walking beside the DADA professor who looked quite annoyed, “I check upon all the spells placed on the goblet.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, not you!” How could anyone forget, “I know how to do a simple age line.”

“Then you won’t mind me taking a look-” He trailed off as a clatter was heard down one of the halls. Anakin held his breath.

Both professor’s looked around for a hint of danger or students out of bed. Gunray’s eyes flickered to where Anakin was hiding and he could have sworn they made eye contact, before the two returned to the task at hand and walked into the great hall.

Anakin wasted no additional time rushing around corridors and he didn’t stop running until he was back in his room shaking Rex awake.

“Mate you won’t believe this!”

Satine had been performing her rounds when Stass and Aayla came rounding about a corner, knocking an unsuspecting third year flat on his bum, before b-lining straight for her with wide and eager eyes.

“Easy, easy!” Satine admonished, moving past them to help the younger student gather his books, “There’s little need to be in that much of a hurry to get anywhere, thank you.”

After sending the boy, who still looked a bit winded, on his way she turned to her overzealous friends with what she hoped to be stern disapproval. They were seventh years now- top of the school- and meant to be an example for younger students. Should they all start behaving like neanderthals, the school would dissolve into chaos.

“I’m not sure you’ll agree when you hear what news we’ve got for you.” Aayla insisted, ignoring Satine’s purposeful glare with ease.

She crossed her arms, “Try me.”

“Okay, Obi-Wan’s gone and put his name in the goblet of fire.” Stass said bluntly.

Satine regarded both of them, back and forth, waiting for a catch that would never come, and was hyper aware by the way the two of them analyzed her every movement. Then, without thinking much on the hypocrisy of it, bolted down the hall.

Obi-Wan had been chatting up some of his teammates on his way to potions when with the force and rage of a tumultuous hurricane, Satine appeared from nowhere and wordlessly yanked him by the hand towards the nearest broom closet. From behind them, he could hear Eeth call out, “Oi boys, I think Kenobi’s got himself in trouble with the Head Girl.”

His ears burned as he overheard Cin Drallig respond with, “If he’s lucky, she might break out the ruler.”

He didn’t have time for rebuttal or even to spare them a glare worthy of their comments, because Satine snapped the door closed behind them before he could think of anything. She ignited her wand, illuminating the entirety of the small space and showcasing just how confined they were.

She looked positively lovely in lowlight- or any light- but in her eyes burned a hot anger that could scorch the coldest of men. He’d back away if that were at all possible, but as it was, their torsos were nearly touching and he could still feel the cool stone wall behind him.

“You entered your name into the goblet of fire?” She poked him with her wand for emphasis, seething with rage and incredulousness.

“Ah, so you’ve heard.” He winced, because for a large castle, word traveled impossibly fast, even with magic involved.

“Yes, I’ve heard .” She gritted and poked him again, “And not from you!”

He sighed, “Look-”

“-What happened to taking it easy this year?” She spat, the light from her wand waving around as she threw her hands up, “Just yesterday you were going off about how disruptive and dangerous it is!”

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind!” He snapped, not appreciating being treated like he had to go through her before making every decision, “Had I not, I would have been the only Kenobi in history not to enter an active tournament. Do you not understand what that could say about my character? To any possible job prospects? I want to be an Auror, Satine. You can’t be a coward as an Auror.”

“You weren’t a coward before this.” She said vehemently, “Ever. But then again, I never took you for a fool either.”

He laughed sardonically, “Just because you don’t agree with the competition doesn’t make me wrong for participating. It’s been a tradition for many years!”

“And that doesn’t change that it’s essentially dangling the lives of children for the amusement of adults!” Satine rounded on him, “And I know you don’t want to do it.”

“What’s done is done.” He said plainly.

“That’s for damn sure.” She scowled, “And by the way, pride and legacy matter little if you are picked and you’re killed!”

“And you think I'm incapable?” He fired back.

“I never said that.” She said gravely, “Do not put words in my mouth, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am just utterly pissed that after all this time, you continue to operate without thinking, regardless of how bright you are, that should something happen to you, what that would do to the people who love you.”

“My family were the ones who insisted, Satine, so of course I’m considering-”

“-I’m not talking about them, Ben.” She said and just like that, the air felt like it was sucked out of the room and any scathing argument that had been tingling at his lips faded into obscurity as he regarded her with renewed softness at the implication of her words. His eyes flickered to her mouth for a second.

He hadn’t realized that somewhere along in the midst of their rage how much closer they’d gotten to one another- even if the little closet made that seem impossible before. Their chests were touching and she was nearly too close to truly see, but not quite. He could still make out the sadness that seemed to replace previous vigor and how intensely she stared at him. Something soft and warm kindled in the pit of his stomach as he felt the sudden urge to reach out and take her hand.

He knew he couldn’t do that though, so instead, he opted for words. “The odds of my being picked are exponentially low.”

She shook her head, keeping him entranced in her stare, “The cup is designed to pick the best wizards, Ben.”

“I know.” He said, nodding.

“No, you don’t, you idiot,” Though her voice was soft, “You are the best.”

And with another moment suspended in time, she finally opened the door and left him alone in the now dark broom closet.

It was a rare occasion when all students reported to the proper places at the proper times. No one wanted to miss the once and a lifetime event to see the names chosen by the goblet. Obi-Wan was one of many among the sea of students filing into the great hall. For such an event, risers had been set up and the professors were wasting absolutely no time organizing the students into houses or schools and instead seating everyone as efficiently as possible. This meant that Obi-Wan found himself between Faro Argys of Slytherin and Quinlan Vos of Durmstrang which perhaps wasn’t the most comfortable place to sit. Quinlan kept turning around to talk to some friends behind them and it took a lot of core strength for Obi-Wan to not get knocked into Faro each time.

He saw Cody alongside his brothers and Anakin up front and Satine was across the room from him sitting next to Stass. He wasn’t so surprised that they’d had better luck than him.

“So who’s your top pick?” Quinlan surprised both him and Faro by spinning quickly in their direction.

“You're talking to us?” Faro looked down his nose at the Durmstrang.

“Sure! You must have an idea of who the best in your school is,” Quinlan prompted. Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered across the room to Satine. She wasn’t talking to anyone really, just tapping her foot and looking anywhere, but at him.

“Well a Gryffindor perhaps,” Obi-Wan floundered for someone to say.

“Oh please,” Faro scoffed, “Gryffindors might be known for being brave but they're not known for talent, it’ll clearly be a Slytherin. Asajj Ventress perhaps.”

Possible, Obi-Wan couldn’t discredit her although he certainly wouldn’t pick her to represent their school.

“I think Bail entered,” Obi-Wan offered.

“Organa,” Faro considered, “I don’t think he’d have the guts, not many Hufflepuffs would.”

“I don’t get your school's little clubs,” Quinlan stretched his arms above his head until his shoulders popped, “Surely the best of the best would be obviously above the rest.”

“Well it’s all a matter of opinion I suppose,” Obi-Wan managed before Faro could open his mouth to talk about Slytherin’s values or anything. In the end it was not a house that made you, but your own merit. He’d learned that his very first year, but a lot of those he’d known growing up had not.

The door opened and the Headmistress Se and Headmaster Tiure made their way through the room, past the goblet itself and up onto the main stage. Headmaster Yoda was already there, Obi-Wan privately assumed no one had wanted to wait for him to hobble his way in. The audience hushed quickly, the anticipation buzzed in the room, even the younger students, who had no stake in such things were on the edge of their seats.

He noticed to the side a few witches and wizards with cameras and pads of paper scribbling frantically. He was sure he recognized a few from the Daily Prophet, but they were likely wizarding news gatherers from around the world.

Mace Windu stepped behind Yoda and spoke first, “Each Headmaster will pull a name from the flames,” He explained, his voice booming to fill every corner of the room, “There will be no take backs, no changing of your minds,” His eyes scathed over the crowd, “You made the decision to enter and like many decisions in your soon to be adulthood, you would do best to follow through.” A pin could drop in such silence. Windu raised his wand and slowly the fires lighting the room began to dim, washing everyone in only the bright blue light of the flaming cup.

“Begin the tournament, we shall,” Yoda waved a hand toward his right where Nala Se stood, so much taller than him, “First, Beauxbatons may go,” It looked very much like Durmstrang’s Headmaster had wanted to be first, but he held his tongue as Nala Se approached the Goblet.

Raising a careful hand she let the flames curl around her palm as she waited. The flames turned from blue to red and a slip of parchment landed square in the center of her hand. She removed it with painstaking slowness that was surely not purposeful as it matched her blinks.

“Beauxbatons welcomes Hera Syndula to represent us,” She turned her head, to offer a hand towards her student. Beauxbatons cheered, clearly Hera was a well liked member of her class. Her friends seemed endless as they stood and cheered for her. She stood with grace and seemed not flattered, but assured that it had made the right decision. Obi-Wan even caught Satine clapping for the girl and he wondered when they’d had time to talk.

Hera made her way up to her Headmistress who had her stand up on the stage just behind the Headmasters so that all could see her. The cameras had begun flashing as each paper tried to get the best possible shot of the first champion.

Things simmered down naturally, it seemed whether for dramatic effect or because there was no need to hurry, Yoda did not call for their silence. Instead, he made use of it immediately when it presented itself to him. It looked like he’d been prepared to go next, but the purple hutt seemed particularly antsy so Yoda extended a hand to him, “Wish to go, do you?”

He didn’t bother answering and instead slithered up to the cup and held his hands out above his head.

“Durmstrang is a force to be reckoned with!” He announced to the room as the fire turned to red once more, “I know our champion will show great strength and fortitude!” Thankfully he was not able to continue on with his little speech because a wadded up slip of parchment flew from the flames and nearly beaned him in the head. He managed to grab it after fumbling a moment and smoothed the creases out. He practically beamed with pride reading off the name, “Quinlan Vos! Our champion!”

Quinlan jumped up immediately, somehow he’d managed to take his shirt off without Obi-Wan even noticing and was flexing his muscles for the camera. His peers stomped on the ground like a herd of cattle as they cheered for him. He held his head high and took his time marching slowly up to the front to stand behind his own headmaster. Ziro gave him a pat on the arm, and Quinlan pumped his fist in return. Despite the way he held himself, it was clear that Quinlan had some aptitude with spells if the goblet found him worthy of competing. Once again the cheers eventually died down and this time Yoda did step forward himself.

He didn’t bother giving a grand speech or announcing himself, probably thought it was all a little repetitive since everyone already knew what was left to come. Obi-Wan looked down to Cody who was excitedly whispering to Fives before turning to watch Yoda… hit the goblet with his stick until it turned red. That was certainly one way to do it.

Silence followed as the cup spat out a piece of neatly folded parchment. It fluttered through the air as if to drag out its descent, but Yoda did not move to catch it, simply held his hand open. Eventually it did land right where he’d anticipated. He unfolded it and took his time to inspect it and to think while the whole room held their breath.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hogwarts Champion.”

Stunned, he tried to take a minute to process what he’d just heard, what they’d all just heard, but he wasn’t given much time. There was cheering, which was quite loud and blinding flashes of light from the press. He looked across the room towards Satine, who met his eyes for only a brief second before looking away. She looked sad, but unsurprised. He felt quite the opposite, all he could feel was surprise.

How had he of all people been singled out as Hogwarts Champion ?

He realized he should stand, and did so abruptly, he felt a metaphorical mask fall across his face. One that had seen many press junkets. He couldn’t bring himself to smile or look tough. He didn’t feel assured like Hera or confident like Quinlan, he simply felt like himself. Out of place, unsure, and confused.

He made his way to the stage, passing by Cody who gave him a gentle shove. The kind of push he really needed to walk behind his headmaster and stand next to the champions from the other schools.

Because I’m a champion too, His shock addled mind provided him unhelpfully. He absentmindedly tried to smooth out his already wrinkle-free sweater and run a hand through his already smoothed hair, A champion?

Before he could continue to think, although he was always sure to resume later, everything in the room seemed to pause as the flames burst up in a blinding red hue for a fourth time.

On instinct Windu moved in front of the headmasters, using his body to block them as everyone else seemed to take a step back. The flames curled and crackled like they were trying and failing to spit something up, like a cat with a hairball. Finally it hissed and wheezed and another piece of parchment twirled through the air and was promptly caught in a quick grab by Windu. His eyes narrowed significantly as he read the crispy parchment and he managed to speak through tightly gritted teeth.

“ Skywalker! ”

Obi-Wan’s heart dropped into his shoes and he very nearly toppled over right there. It couldn’t be, Anakin was too young and Hogwarts already had a champion. You , his brain reminded him unhelpfully, but his new shock was enough to quell the first.

“Alright!” Anakin jumped up from where he was sitting, the Fetts gave each other looks. No one clapped.

Then the press was on him, cameras flashing reporters shouting, students shouting.

“Quiet! QUIET!” Windu projected his voice with his wand and the room fell into silence.

“Anakin,” Yoda pushed his way in front of Mace with a few less than gentle looking taps from his cane, “Put your name in, did you?”

“Well,” He froze, Obi-Wan could see the admission of guilt written clearly on the boy's face. It was clear he didn’t want to fully admit it, not when it could get him into trouble.

“Did you or did you not?” Windu’s hand was twitching for his wand, “We need to know if this is some kind of planned attack.”

“Okay okay!” Anakin threw up his hands, “Yes, I did it myself.”

There was an uproar, mostly from younger students angry that they themselves didn’t get a chance. But the three headmasters and Windu simply looked at each other and frowned.

“It’s cheating! Treacherous slope to climb explaining this one,” Ziro was quick to say.

Nala Se however looked towards the cup whose flame was dying now and she hummed dreamily, “The cup is a magical artifact,” She reminded them, “It chooses who is worthy-”

“Then why not one of mine, hmm?” Ziro tried to get in her face but considering the height difference it would never have worked.

“The chosen one, Skywalker is,” Yoda was frowning at Anakin’s sloppy handwriting.

“I believe my champion will have no trouble competing with such a young boy,” Nala Se looked down at Ziro, “Is your champion up to the task?”

“O-of, of course he is!” Ziro spluttered before pointing a finger towards Quinlan, “And when my champion beats the chosen one, it’ll prove to all what Durmstrang is capable of.”

“Permission, Skywalker will have to get,” Yoda hesitated, “From his guardians.”

Obi-Wan didn’t need to listen anymore. Anakin’s guardians, Obi-Wan’s own parents, would be delighted to allow Anakin to enter.

Anakin had joined them on stage standing right in front of Obi-Wan which truly only highlighted how small he was compared to the others. As Quinlan flexed and Hera smirked beside him, all he could feel about the year before him was a numbness that filled him with dread.

Anakin really didn’t see what the big deal was. He’d been ushered into the little room behind the stage alongside Obi-Wan and the other two competitors. His mentor had taken his shoulder in an iron grip, but his eyes didn’t really look like they were seeing the fancy tapestries or the flaking gold on the molding. Anakin however thought it would be best to look around. Professors were usually the only ones allowed back here and it had been how he and Rex had attempted to escape the sleepover the previous year. Who knows? Maybe it would be useful again.

“Let me go, Obi-Wan,” He had already tried shaking off the older students grip, but to no avail. Obi-Wan was in a world of his own, he could practically see gears turning behind his gray eyes. It reminded him of when he’d tried to explain how the internet worked earlier that summer and Obi-Wan had lost his whole day thinking it over. Ravenclaws . It took wrenching his shoulder out of the grip utilizing his own frustration of being babied to gain his freedom.

“So...” Anakin approached the other two champions who looked down at him in curiosity, “I’m Anakin...” His mum always did say it was polite to introduce yourself.

“Nice to meet you, Skywalker,” Quinlan shook his hand with a little more force than was really necessary, “Vos, Quinlan Vos. Durmstrang’s top Quidditch player, possibly the top Quidditch player.”

“Careful now,” Hera raised an eyebrow, “I’d hate for you to be found a liar,” She flickered her gaze to Anakin and offered a smile, “I’m Hera Syndulla,” She turned her gaze back onto Quinlan, “Captain and best Chaser at Beauxbatons.”

“I play Quidditch too!” Anakin chimed in, “I’m one of Gryffindor’s starting beaters,” He felt a little underwhelming after their much more impressive description, “And the chosen one,” He felt the need to add. Then a little flustered for dropping that out of nowhere, a habit he was really looking to break, he went on, “I guess we’re all Quidditch players then, imagine that!”

“Oh?” Quinlan looked over to where Obi-Wan had somehow found a scrap of parchment and a quill, “He plays too?”

“Yeah,” Anakin shrugged, “He’s Ravenclaw’s starting keeper, but he’s really not much for sports.”

“Clearly more of an academic,” Hera mused.

Anakin nodded, “Yeah he gets caught in his head quite a bit, like now . I stayed with him all last summer and he never wanted to do anything fun. All he does is read.”

“I guess that’s why he’s Head Boy,” Quinlan mentioned and the other two turned to look at him in surprise, “What? I pay attention. Especially to my possible competition.”

The door opened and professors poured into the room. Anakin found himself sectioned off from the other competitors and instead standing next to Gunray and Palpatine. He peeked over their shoulders to see Beauxbatons’ headmistress with Hera and Durmstrang’s with Quinlan. Obi-Wan was largely still on his own, because the other Hogwarts professors were in a bit of a debate. Hogwarts’ own headmaster had yet to appear.

The room was loud with chatter and debate, even if he wanted to talk he really didn’t have a chance at being heard. Palpatine just gave him a tight smile before shooting a look at Gunray who dabbed the sweat off his forehead and tried to look less cowardly.

It didn’t take much longer for Yoda to appear in the doorway. The small headmaster did little more than wave his hand and it summoned all the adults from the room.

Replacing them it seemed were their friends. Satine was first to rush through the door in a mix of sparking fury and an odd sad look that really left her looking like she’d eaten something quite sour and trailing behind her as usual was Cody.

“Ben, sit down!” Was all he was willing to listen to as she ramped up some kind of rant for his poor mentor.

Hera’s friends from Beauxbatons and Quinlan’s mates entered as well, filling the space with much more positive congratulations which he was a little more than grateful for.

“You bloody bastard,” Rex had come. Anakin grinned widely and Rex matched it. Anakin high fived his best mate who shook his head, “Couldn’t have brought me along for the ride huh? Had to have one midnight adventure without me?”

“Hey you’re always complaining I ruin your sleep far too often,” Anakin rolled his eyes.

“And it was the best night of sleep I’ve had in awhile,” Rex reminisced.

“That’s all well and good,” A new voice had Anakin whip his head around and stare in surprise. Padmé Amidala. Padmé stood in front of him with her arms crossed across her chest. Her hair curled upwards like the flames from the goblet and her lovely brown eyes shone like amber in reflection of the candlelight, “But what business did you have putting yourself into more danger?”

“Worried are you?” Rex cut in slyly and Anakin tried to kick him as nondescriptly as he could, “Anakin’s had worse in Windu’s class than whatever stupid riddle he’s going to have to complete.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Padmé frowned and Anakin’s heart flipped, “Anakin’s my friend, weren’t you scared when he went after Maul? It was reckless and he could have gotten himself killed, just like now.”

“Yeah,” Rex admitted softly.

“Heyyyyy, no need to worry about me!” Anakin cut in waving his arms around as if it would dispel the tension, “The cup wouldn’t have shot me out of it if I didn’t have a good shot! Plus this- this isn’t anything like Maul.”

“I guess so,” Padmé pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and Anakin tried not to be transfixed by such a simple action.

“Anyways, I’m… surprised to see you here,” Anakin twisted his hands behind his back, hoping she’d fill him in. They were still more like acquaintances than anything else.

“You need me,” She poked him in the chest causing him to trip back a step, “You’re only a third year and I’m a fourth,” She reminded him as if he didn’t think about that near every time they saw each other, “I’ve learned way more spells than you and I know you hate reading.”

“Well I don’t disagree,” Anakin raised an eyebrow, “Why does that matter?”

“ Because ,” Padmé rolled her eyes, “This is a dangerous tournament, one that only the older students were supposed to be entered into,” She shot him a look, “As your friend, I want to help! We can research for the tasks together and I can try and teach you any spells you might need, but haven’t learned yet,” Her determination shone in her eyes and Anakin’s heart skipped a beat, she was truly good. Full of a desire to help people and it was like he could see a brief glimpse at the real her, not the one he’d perhaps manufactured. He glanced over to Obi-Wan and Satine. His mentor had finally come out from his own mind and was debating with Satine as usual. Both of them had told him, first year, that becoming friends with Padmé, true friends, would do better than just pining after her from afar.

He smiled at Padmé and she smiled back at him just as warmly. He was pretty sure he’d like that, being good friends.

“Thank you,” He answered her, genuinely humbled, for once, “I’d like that.”

Sidious snarled as he slammed the door to his office. It locked itself into place securing both himself inside of it and perhaps more importantly, the unsuspecting who might try and enter it. In his anger he grabbed a potions vial and tossed it across the room shattering it into pieces.

How had his plans derailed themselves so early ? It had been easy to get Kenobi to enter and easier still to sit back and watch. How had Skywalker weaseled his way into the picture yet again ? He was willing to sacrifice the Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang champions, they would have been just another stepping stone toward his goals, but now he had to work around the boy?

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at his fireplace. The flames leapt up immediately turning a bright green and he pushed his way through, muttering his destination with quiet anger. He pulled his hood up and appeared in a dark and dingy fireplace where certainly no one would bother investigating. He pushed his way through Knockturn Alley, taking his anger out on some of the lowlife who dared step into his path. The whole magical Alley was filled with narrow passages and rickety staircases, but neither would stop him, such trivial things wouldn’t dare.

He didn’t bother knocking, just burst his way inside and slamming the door, just as he had at his own office. Dooku, who had been asleep, shot up quickly, wand already out, at the intrusion.

“Go on and try it Tyranus,” He growled storming his way up to his apprentice. Said apprentice immediately lowered his wand and tried to stand, but Sidious grabbed him by the beard and forced him to his knees. He would grovel at Sidious’ feet whether he liked it or not.

“Master, to what do I owe the pleasure,” But Sidious just let his foot rest on Dooku’s hand. He felt a flicker of neutrality when he noticed the scar from previous conversations. So perhaps his apprentice would listen after all. He put his weight onto Dooku’s hand, keeping him pinned to the ground as he forced his head up to look him in the eye.

“Did you change our plans again?” Sidious enunciated such words carefully, making sure they were heard as he twisted his fingers into Tyranus’ silver hair, “Be honest.”

“What is this about?” He asked and Sidious raised his boot and stomped down hard making Dooku grimace. Ravenclaws always asked too many questions.

“The Goblet, the Tournament, what else?” He shoved Dooku’s head down as he moved to pace towards the other corner of the room. Smartly his apprentice stayed right where he left him.

“I didn’t do anything, Master,” It sounded truthful enough, but there was a hint of smugness as he added, “Did things not go as planned?” Sidious growled, but didn’t dignify it with a response. Tyranus would see in the morning when the papers came out, just like everyone else.

“If I find out you're lying,” Sidious warned, “You’ll live to regret it.”

“Understood,” He answered smoothly, finally standing to his full height, “But you won’t.”

Sidious turned and left. He couldn’t waste his whole night here, he had plans to change.

[belliesandburps]

Thoughts on TW so far...

So, despite being a massive TW fan, believe it or not, the only chapter I watched in its entirety was Jamil and Kalim’s chapter.  I saw bits and pieces of the other chapters, but remember next to none of them, and I’ve already forgotten most of the finer details of Scarabia, just the Overblot fight, Baby Otter crying and Jamil’s backstory.

I just finished “Rose-Tinted Tyrant,” and saw Riddle’s backstory and the teaser to Leona’s big dance.  So here’re my thoughts now that I’m playing the game directly:

I freakin’ love this game.  More than just on the story front, and the characters, but just as a mobile game...a FREE mobile game at that.

You can’t play Bejeweled without getting hit with a billion ads anytime you go off the app and go back on for any reason.  There are no pay walls and the game doesn’t force you to piss away real money to unlock characters.  Two tenfold keys and a visit to Sam’s shop and I was able to get cards of every single student, some with more variations than others.  (I have an army of Floyd’s...dorm duds, school uniform, science Floyd, robed Floyd...Overblot Riddle was overwhelmed by a quarter of a dozen Floyd’s.......)

But no, this game genuinely feels like a game that’s designed to be played (watched most of the time, but still).  Where the game doesn’t feel like it’s constantly shuffling you around to spend money, but just see everything NRC has to offer and it keeps rewarding you just for watching chapters and side stories, all of which are incredibly amusing.

I’m not naive.  I’m sure there will be way cooler skins with higher power ups that can only be obtained through X, Y and Z, but you have all you need to play through the game.  And there’s a constant reward stream that never makes the game feel like a grind.

Even when I’m literally grinding to level up my characters by taking history lessons, I’m still getting funny dialogue, rewards and more chats to watch and enjoy.  So just as a mobile game, Twisted Wonderland feels almost like a return to form to what mobile gaming used to be before adverts got their tendrils all over it.

The soundtrack is sublime.  It’s that usual feel-good, cheeky, often beautiful music you hear in Japanese games.  But holy hell, Riddle’s boss theme was somethin’ else...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DndV7UyjhGk

Speaking of Riddle, I’d heard his story was sad but never saw it first hand myself.  Damn, did that one hit me right in the feels.  He’s so obsessively authoritarian, but the way Riddle constantly insists that he doesn’t like what he does lets you know something deeper is going on.  You could more or less guess where his tendencies came from, and figure it was going to come from his mom, but still, watching him just break down in his own headspace and then break down into tears once he came to?  I’m not a hugger, but damn, did I wanna give that kid a hug and never let go in that moment.  Besides, I don’t have magic so he can’t snap any collars over my neck.  :P

Honestly, I absolutely love getting to experience these characters first hand, and how they’re all kinda bratty and cheeky, but always manage to show their heart in subtle ways.  The way Ace just keeps going on about Riddle breaking down and simpering out an apology between sobs doesn’t cut it and makes him whip up a tart and host a new Unbirthday Party without all the rules is fittingly jerky for Ace, but also works to kinda give Riddle what he really wanted; a chance to have fun with his friends instead of barking orders and having everyone walk around on egg shells. 

That’s what I love about the writing in TW.  The characters generally don’t fall into the same usual anime trappings about friendship and feelings and making up...yet manage to pepper that in through their own cheeky spin that manages to be fitting of this world, and also still provide a feel good ride.

What’s funny is, you still kinda get that more conventional anime feelsy stuff from characters like Deuce and Kalim, and it feels completely in-character.  Even then, one’s kind of an endearing idiot with a secret attitude problem and the other is...a VERY endearing idiot with a secret mega-idiot problem, and I love him for it.  XD

And just as a game, it’s pretty addictive.  I’m not usually a fan of rhythm based games, but moving to the catchy tunes and getting better and better scores is really satisfying.  And the actual combat itself manages to have the right amount of strategy for its hands off approach.  Enemies always have different elemental types, and with bosses, you won’t always know which elements they’ll be using for their first or second turn, which allows you to strategize and pick the right character for whichever turn you think they’ll have the elemental advantage on.  It’s like Fire Emblem with more thought behind each battle.

If I have any one major issue with TW, it’s that the lions share of the Prefect’s dialogue choices are worthless.  95% of them evoke the same reaction regardless, and while they work to demonstrate the Prefect’s delightfully cheeky personality, I’d have liked the game to make me feel more like a participant than it currently does.  

Also, for as much as literally every single character is talking about being hungry and eating...make with some proper stuffing scenes, c’mon now, guys...

Anywho, long story short, I’m loving this game in every sense of the word.  And I cannot wait to see more of it...as well as screencap more voracious, hungry-sounding dialogue.  ;)

[ateezgf]

Hi I’m a new atiny and I’m excited about my first comeback with them but I had a question? Maybe it’s dumb but is there like a storyline to their MVs? I still haven’t watched all of them but I was wondering what the hourglass meant that’s all over this comeback. Anyway thank you very much, I’m sorry if this is weird

hi !! first off, welcome :D how are you liking ateez so far? any favorite boys yet? i hope all the pre-comeback activities are hyping you up!! ALSO, that isn't a dumb question i promise !! yes, they do have a storyline! it comes with a lot of theories since they won’t explicitly tell us & it also spans across A LOT of their content. like mvs, albums, lyrics, vcrs, shows, etc. i’ll put my own thoughts under the read more because it’s a lot. i also can’t explain the hourglass without telling you about their story too. 

to me, the ateez storyline has pretty general themes in regards to good vs evil.. rebellion vs control.. multiverses/timelines/time travel. i’ll be going through this per era (treasure & fever) !! i’ll try to focus primarily on their mvs, but i’ll mention some things from their albums and some vcrs for their comebacks.

TREASURE ERA (EP.1-5): 

pirate king/treasure mv doesn’t have too much story to it. these two mvs are mainly just introductions to them and their story. esp with the very iconic lines “will you be my friend?” and in the intro track on the album right before pirate king, “will you join us?” they sing a lot about their ambitions and the future. it’s safe to believe that this is the good ateez. 

say my name is our first glance at the bad ateez (or who everyone calls halateez). in this mv, we can see that ateez are in distress. in a lot of their solo shots, they’re typically in not likable settings. yeosang is trapped in a glass box with a member of halateez staring him down. hongjoong is sat in a blue hallway with a lot of smoke. yunho is at a desk surrounded by papers & this is also where we first see the hourglass (or cromer). however, it’s just a prop for now. san is in a room surrounded by broken glass.. BUT only after he is seen staring at one of the members of halateez through it. in the big table scene, you can see them all working to find the answer to something.. which is very interesting to note that wooyoung is the only one to be seen in that room alone after an alarm seemingly makes all the other evacuate. WE ALSO get the first face-off between halateez and ateez. but they’re not directly face to face. they’re only seeing them through glass panels & we can see that ateez is very clearly defiant when it comes to them. we also see that when seonghwa is facing the halateez member alone, that it’s him. which could also showcase the time traveling aspect. as if halateez is jumping through the timelines to get to them. another interesting thing to note that in the last verse of the song, it switches off between ateez and halateez. this mv ends with the treasure instrumental & yeosang missing from the glass casing. 

in hala hala, it is primarily halateez. the members in this mv are seen in darker attire & makeup and more clean cut. i believe halateez is from a universe where they are the ones in charge & calling the shots. if not that, then a very organized and powerful rebellion group. hence the same outfits almost like a uniform. this mv isn’t much but halateez dancing.. HOWEVER, the ending is VERY interesting. all members snap their necks at the same time (hence the lyric ‘suicide squad’).. all members BUT wooyoung. he ultimately pretends to do it, but is the last one standing and wiping blood from his mouth while surrounded by all of the bodies.. and remember, wooyoung was the only one alone in the room all of ateez were in while they were working on documents. 

jumping to wave & illusion.. we can see that this is a pretty sudden change. however, it all still matches with their storyline very well. 

in illusion, the members are seen in bright and colorful clothing on a flying boat asleep. in this, they’re back to that adventuring pirate crew from the beginning. however, the lyrics show that they have... no idea who they are and where they are. it’s believed too that the lyrics are talking to someone. in the middle of all of their singing about how they found paradise and how they can just party it up now, there’s a repeated “let me free” which kind of seems.. out of place. if we’re having fun, why do we need to be let free? as the title entails, this is all an illusion. the hourglass is seen again along with a glass cube and a butterfly on a table. we also see a quick glance of a halateez mask on the globe. we can see mingi listening to a headset/tape player. they make it to an island that is very.. fake. a large compass.. a floating hourglass and just very desaturated colors. even the members lose saturation when they reach the ground. they eventually find.. a cave? it has a lot of drapes and tinfoil looking walls. for a split second, we see a member of halateez standing there. ateez then reaches a very smokey room with lights and flowers. they don’t look so happy anymore. it’s like the illusion is very much wearing off. also remember, they initially were looking for their paradise so for the illusion of one to be broken... hmm. this mv ends with the members running away towards a light & shots of them sleeping in wave play where it ends with a whispered “open your eyes”. 

in wave, the members are together once again on an island. just them this time. it’s very fun. but.. it’s almost like they were dropped there. i mean, sure it makes sense that san/yeosang/jongho wake up in a bed... but why is mingi waking up under a tree in the middle of nowhere? looking at the headset/tape player confused like it isnt his? why is seonghwa waking up in a pool and why is hongjoong waking up on the road? for the most part, they all wake up alone but they eventually find each other again. once they’re all together, we can see that ateez are suddenly the same carefree souls they were before. constantly talking about how there should be no worries. 

in wonderland, it’s kind of.. hard to distinguish if this is halateez or ateez. we can see a lot of power dynamics here. hongjoong raps about how he shouldn’t be doubted if they wanted to reach neverland/their utopia. i say this because he mentions being a child forever like peter; but also because of the illusion mv. it’s also pretty obvious that mingi holds a type of power here. he’s seen as the center of attention with the marching band like he’s the leader of a grand army. aside from that, i think there’s a bit of a rescue mission occurring? in all honesty, i do not know where san & jongho are within the storyline for this mv. however, we can see that yeosang & seonghwa are in the same tunnel.. but not together. the elevator shot in the beginning is believed to show them going through time and same with the tunnel. which makes sense when you look at the updated ateez logo and the way it looks like it has a lot of lines that meet into the middle. aside from that, we have yunho staring at a bunch of tvs albeit they’re playing nothing we can see. then we have wooyoung.. all chained up and alone. it looks like nobody’s coming to save him the way hwa came to save yeosang and san. perhaps because he had betrayed them in hala hala? the staircase is also pretty important. i dont know the exact piece but i know it’s similar to an art piece that shows an endless staircase and continuous loop.. perhaps a hint at a continuous cycle in the storylines? seeing as this wonderland mv has gone up in flames, it looks like the next plan of action has to be to cross that bridge seen earlier. believed to have been the bridge between dystopia & utopia. 

in the utopia mv, there isn’t a lot of crazy storyline? it’s believed that once ateez walk across that bridge and through the door, they’re in utopia... or so they think. it’s mainly a lot of dancing and pretty shots, but the reoccurrence of smoke-filled rooms leading to rooms of oversaturation is back. the answer vcr before this comeback also show a lot of story. we see halateez and ateez facing off together once again with essentially.. the same question. we’ve spent this whole time believing that ateez are the good guys and halateez are the bad guys... but what if that wasn’t the case? sure, we see them as such but is that who they really are? each respective party holds up a mirror to the other asking “are you evil?” / “are you good?”. cut to the iconic intro of san on his knees.. almost like he’s the one having this war? almost like he’s trying to figure out the answer himself about if he is good or evil. 

the answer mv starts with a man in a white suit looking at the destruction of what was left behind of ateez/halateez. the move of san tipping over an overflowing wine glass.. it’s also thought like he’s turning the hourglass as well as if to start their timer once again. mingi is talking about how he sees that the end is near, but hongjoong brings up how we should finish as strong as we started until we get what we desired. it looks like wooyoung is walking in snow.. or is it the sand of time? i mean.. the hourglass was just tipped over wasn’t it? yeosang is seen alone in a red desert surrounded by broken glass. almost like he’s alone with no way out? speaking of mirrors, it’s also possible that ateez uses mirrors to travel through dimensions. like how san was staring at a member of halateez instead of himself in say my name? well.. yunho is surrounded by mirrors but cant seem to see anything but himself. he’s pretty frustrated about that. wooyoung is also seen in a room of butterflies. butterflies typical have a positive meaning of change, hope, transformation. we then get the icONIC AS HELL SHOT of halateez and ateez face to face at last at the table. as a repeated line entails, they’re making a toast to something. perhaps they have finally come to terms with each other and what to do so that they could exist peacefully as one? but maybe ateez has already done so much to one timeline that another had to be ruined? either way, an agreement was made between both hongjoong’s. at the end of the mv, we are greeted by the man in the white suit again... perhaps it’s another time traveler who knows about what ateez & halateez had done and was trying to stop them. no one knows who that is in all honesty. it’s believed that it might be one of the members. 

FEVER ERA (EP 6-8): 

PHEW OKAY UHHH.. honestly.. i say it’s crucial to watch this diary film at the very least. it explains this timeline of events now. halateez makes a brief appearance to hongjoong and the hourglass is back. poor hongjoong is tasked with finding everyone to bring them together once again. seemingly.. a fallout between friends.. another broken timeline. i feel as though it’s pretty explanatory on each individual backstory, but there is a lot more in depth things. like seonghwa crossing the line and breaking the rules. the endless loop of staircases being represented with san on the escalators as he recounts having to leave his friends again.  they all have their individual things that grounds them whenever theyre feeling lost, but they also had each other. i’m assuming that ateez from the treasure era managed to mess up this timeline of ateez causing them to drive everyone away from each other.. which is why halateez tasked hongjoong with the control of time. i mean, an hourglass holds a specific amount of time but you can manipulate it by turning it before it’s done or choosing to turn it way after it has finished. ultimately, the diary film shows 8 friends who broke off into 8 different paths when they weren’t suppose to and now they’re trying to find each other once again. 

we can see this in the inception mv. a lot of their dreams were broken and so they’re lost without it. ultimately.. they are lost again without each other and their dreams. 

hm.. im not too sure about thanxx. we see a parallel shot of ateez holding the flag like in wonderland. we see the theme of defiance once again. this song talks a lot about how they’re choosing to move on their own path despite what anyone says because who knows themselves better than .. themself. in this mv, they tease their song the real, which they performed on kingdom. 

SPEAKING OF KINGDOM.... EVERY STAGE HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THEIR STORYLINE. wave overtune showed the pirate route where something happened to hongjoong’s crew and he lost them all. similar to how hongjoong in inception/thanxx has lost them all. from the wonderland is showing WHAT happened to the crew, but this time they don’t lose. rhythm ta (the awakening of summer) has all of these past props (records, yeosang’s violin) being confiscated. this performance is inspired by money heist. AGAIN, we have the theme of government defiance. on the newspaper that wooyoung rips up, it shows that the govt had deemed halateez (Black Pirates) as terr0r1sts. initially, i was wondering if this is just a re-branded halateez but then i remembered.... ateez and halateez had that agreement. perhaps this is the original ateez and they’re doing their part of the deal in protecting halateez. which means stealing back all of the stuff that was stolen and removing evidence & calling for the people to turn against the govt. i see this as halateez turning ateez into a second version of them. especially because the stage ends with hongjoong punching the glass and retrieving the hourglass after putting on a halateez hat. 

in answer: ode to joy, it offers.. closure to the treasure era. kind of. we see yeosang in the glass case again looking at the man in white from answer. then it cuts to halateez seonghwa in the cage with yeosang & the two of them flipping the hourglass together. it’s like yunho tries to stop him, but is too late... which is when he starts facing off with the man in the white suit to distract him so that yeosang & halahwa can get away. we are once again greeted with halateez and ateez facing each other at the table directly mirroring each other. halasan is right behind him copying every move. i know.. yeosang’s bit has symbolism but i can’t remember.. but i know it’s suppose to be like he’s swimming? then during hongjoong’s part, we can see halateez assisting the members in each kingdom stage leading up to answer.. so it’s like showing that halateez (although not seen) has been orchestrating everything this whole time. 

this last bit is pretty major in the story. so it seen that san is praying in the middle of this entire fight.. and wooyoung tries stopping him. his efforts don’t work and san essentially sacrifices himself so that he could fight the man in the white suit alone. i feel like there are more.. perhaps.. 8? men in white suits given that san took down one, jongho was with another, and hongjoong was surrounded by them. it makes me believe that these white suits are again ateez from another timeline trying to stop them. halateez is giving ateez the crown.. as if passing off their power to them. but jongho throws it away instead of accepting it. at the end of all of this chaos.. ateez ultimately comes out on top and defeats both halateez and the white suits. 

OR SO THEY THOUGHT !! in the fireworks mv, they are seen in a dystopian society once again. if you remember, i had brought up smokey rooms often. reason being in the diary ver. of this album, there’s a part that goes into more detail about their story. i need to read into the theories for this era more but the smoke is very important. jongho recounts how he gets suffocated with a smoke that makes him see illusions and past events, but since it all feels so real it all just seems like DEJA VU.......... the dystopian society ateez are in for this mv... it’s smokey as hell. which is believed to be the smoke that causes such illusions but they’re able to break through it. i mean.. look at this teaser for the comeback.. looks way too colorful and peaceful. we don’t see this at all in the fireworks video.. SIKE. when ateez are walking around the dystopian wasteland (aka strictland), they’re in these nice suits. it’s almost like the effects of their illusion from the teaser was wearing off and they started waking up to the reality. and once they start seeing everything for what it is, they once again.. start creating havoc as they have in the past. this mv ends with the white suit man RETURNING ... and seeing the aftermaths of what ateez has done. he looks around as if he knows.. that it was them. 

in the dreamers mv.. again it has small symbolisms. jongho with the headphones (mingi’s headphones).. hongjoong with the small cube.. the spray cans like from halahala. but i dont know too much here. 

NOW.. WE HAVE DEJA VU AND ETERNAL SUNSHINE. we don’t have too much info on them right now since it hasnt been released.. bUT THE HOURGLASS IS BROKEN. the teaser they posted showed that the hourglass has been broken and essentially... all the timelines are broken. this leaves room for a lot of mixed up timelines. which is what people believe is the reason for the reoccurrence of similar hair colors from past eras on different members. we’re all getting deja vu from these repeated looks, no? eternal sunshine... it’s another super bright concept like illusion, thanxx, and celebrate. people are tying this to the movie eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (i actually like this movie). in the movie, the couple gets a medical procedure to have their memories erase from each other. perhaps like how ateez had forgotten about each other?.. but in the movie, the main guy is trying REEEEALLY hard to get her back. which causes a mess in the timelines of their memories. things start repeating with countless acts of DEJA VU and things that just do not seem real. which again.. lines up to their story. 

SIDENOTES: 

first off.. if you read all of this, i love you. i never have been so invested in a story like this before and it genuinely is such an amazing storyline. 

there’s plenty i missed. like.. i didnt even talk about fever road but they have a couple things in there that elaborate on their friendship and everything. i also remembered their mama stage?? im p sure that had plot but i never.. looked  into that one. and not EVERYTHING ateez releases is releated obv.. unless KJK is the man in the white suit but i doubt it. 

but yeah :D those were just my thoughts. if you read this far and have any other theories, plEASE SEND THEM. i think it’s so interesting and i love discussing things.

ADDED NOTES:

control — if you look at some of the choreos, mingi controls ateez with just a gesture of his hand a lot. so perhaps that's also story-related as well? like how i mentioned he had a type of power in wonderland? leader of an army? ateez also has this seoul music awards 2021 perf where they dance like puppets, but it’s not orderly.. they’re missing their puppet master & this performance was during mingi’s hiatus.. hmmm