#this is why I must complete every task at that exact moment or it ceases to exist

[babydaddyleorio]

The Forbidden Mark

pairings: gojo x black!fem OC

word count: 2,303

summary: Rae was many things, but she drew the line at ever becoming a sorcerer. She was set on distancing herself from that life, but when a bothersome curse and a certain sorcerer crossed her path, It became apparent that she could run from It no more.

warnings: slight cursing, third person p.o.v, OC main character, unedited

additional notes: new series idea! not sure if I'm going to pursue this or not, but I really liked how the first chapter turned out so we’ll see.

Chapter One

Rae pulled her box braids in a secured bun as she stared indignantly at herself through the smudged mirror.  She was beyond ready for her shift to be over at the esteemed club “Jinx”,  but her boss, much to her dismay, ordered her to do overtime. She had been working since 1 that afternoon and was scheduled to get off at 10 p.m, but as she looked at the rusted clock hanging on the wall it read that it was currently midnight. It’s not like overtime was a complete drag since Rae did need to stack up on extra cash, but she still had a life of her own. She didn’t want to spend all of her time overworking herself for a few bucks, but the way things were looking, It seemed like this was just her fated path. A chime resounded from behind Rae, making her shift her eyes on the reflective glass towards the bright fluorescent lights now flooding the locker room.

“Rae, Narco needs you to serve this table right now. I offered to take your place since I knew you needed a breather, but Narco insisted that It was you who took care of them.” Jasmine, Rae’s co-worker and good friend announced while holding the door open. Rae rolled her eyes at her boss’s request and adjusted the fanny pack around her waist before turning to Jasmine with a fake smile. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Jas. You’re a real one.” Rae nodded with a sigh and walked past her, too deep in her own thoughts to notice the sympathetic expression that had come across her co-worker’s face.

On the other side of the club, Gojo sat in one of the leather booths with his legs crossed and an obvious bored expression on his face as he rested his head on the palm of his hand. He was tasked to come and scope out this bustling club that catered towards the rich and high status criminals and find the special grade curse that lurked among them. 

Gojo yawned.

Clubs like these were never his style and the flashing lights and blaring music never failed to give him anything short of a massive headache.

Gojo whistled as he surveyed the vast crowd of individuals, sipping on the drink he had ordered from the bar not too long ago. Upon scanning the dark club for his designated culprit, he found himself halting once he saw a woman come from the back room and make her way through the dancefloor. She looked to be just another waitress to the simple eye, but the anomaly that caught Gojo’s attention was a curse blob that was attached to her back. He knew that he currently had a mission at hand, a rather important one at that, but he also was aware that If he left the curse attached to the waitress alone It would end up consuming her.

Gojo exhaled dramatically and stretched his limbs as he stood up from his seat. 

Exercising one little curse wouldn’t hurt, right?

Meanwhile, Rae persistently pushed through the dancing bodies and to her relief, finally made It out the sea of intoxicated people. It was times like these where she questioned If this job was really for her and If it would be more beneficial if she just threw in the towel.

However, when that thought occurred she’d always snap out of It because she knew that she had to keep pushing for Amari, even If said job was stressing her out on all accounts.

“Dang, my back is killing me.” Rae muttered to herself, feeling as if something heavy had suddenly glued itself to her. This pain had been bothering her all day and she briefly wondered If she should spoil herself with a massage when she got home. Nonetheless, she shook that uneasy feeling off and continued to walk towards the section her boss told her to serve. They were in a back desolate corner and as she got closer she could hear the loud and raunchy club music start to fade and a more classical song took its place. 

She sucked her teeth. These people must be really important, she thought to herself as she walked up the few spiraling steps and opened the veil to the entrance of the secluded area . Upon which, she saw her boss sitting across from the man who she assumed was the customer. 

“Rae, so glad you could make It!” Her boss said with a raspy voice and the biggest smile when he caught sight of her. Narco was a very bony man, with greasy blonde hair that stopped at his shoulders, and a mouth full of artificial gold that shined every time he spoke. Rae learned over the past year while working here that Narco was a rotten and crooked man who would have no problem selling himself  if it meant earning a quick buck. 

“I want you to serve our special guest here with your utmost respect and give him everything he requests.” Narco chirped loudly, his attention now pulled back to the man in front of him. It took everything within Rae to resist rolling her eyes at Narco’s overly sweet tone as she walked towards the table while getting her notepad out. 

“Of course, sir.” Rae nodded while clicking the black pen in her hand. “Hello, my name is Rae and I'll be your server for tonight, what can I get you?” She said politely and when she looked up from her notepad, she tensed from the customers' harsh glare. Her boss’s phone suddenly rang and he ended up quickly excusing himself from the room, leaving Rae and the customer to be the only ones left in the area.

The customer, now that she thought of It, undoubtedly gave her a bad vibe. The man in front of her had long, burgundy hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail and he was clad in an all black suit that was slightly unbuttoned, displaying the black tattoos that decorated his chest and neck.  He sat comfortably with one arm thrown lazily behind his neck and the other balled on the table, his narrowed green eyes piercing Rae’s brown face.

“Do you know who I am?” Were the words that finally left the man’s mouth.

Rae scrunched her face up in confusion because she indeed did not know who this weirdo was, nor did she really care. This is exactly why she hated working night shifts because she always had to deal with creeps like these and the situation was even less ideal since her boss had left the area.

“No.. I’m afraid I don’t.” Rae admitted, making the man across from her erupt in obnoxious laughter.

“That explains why your presence felt so weak to me when you first arrived. No matter,” The man’s playful demeanor suddenly ceased and he turned to Rae, a dark shadow now casted onto his face. “My name is Hitomi.”

Rae tensed up because the atmosphere in the room had changed to something suffocating and the feeling in her gut told her that this man was dangerous. She debated If she wanted to avert the situation back to her serving him or to get the hell away from him. 

The latter, at this moment, seemed like the best option.

She awkwardly cleared her throat as she took a step back, already formulating an excuse in her mind as to why she needed to leave. 

“Freeze.” The man spoke lowly and as if on cue, Rae’s body went still. 

The man that went by Hitomi got up from his seat and ran his hand through the hairs that framed his face, revealing a scar that fell diagonally across his right eye. Rae struggled to move, and no matter how hard she willed herself to open her mouth or clench her hands, she stayed in the exact same spot. 

“I’ve been looking-” The man spoke suddenly, making Rae move her eyes back to him, “-for a very long time for the jewel that I was missing and I can proudly say that tonight I finally hit the jackpot. See, our meeting tonight was no mere coincidence, it was planned and fated to become. That’s why I came to this place for one reason and for one reason only,” Hitomi slowly sauntered towards her immobile body, licking his bottom lip in the process. “and that reason was you, Rae.” 

Hitomi then stood directly in front of Rae with an evil glint swirling through his jade eyes and reached his hand out towards her, but a force abruptly pushed him back, causing his body to be thrown into the table that he was previously seated at.

“That’s enough.” A tall and slender man with messy, white hair and sunglasses hiding his eyes challenged as he peeled back the curtains to this area. Rae stood in the center, now shaken up by Hitomi’s words and by not having the autonomy to move. It was also alarming having seen his body fly across the room without having any witness of something touching him.

“And just who are you?” Hitomi sneered at Gojo as he slowly stood from the spot he had fallen to, dusting his suit off in the process. 

“My name is of no importance, all you need to know is that I’m the guy who’s going to be exercising you.” The man curtly replied while rolling up his sleeves and walking closer to him.

Rae knew immediately what was happening just by hearing the white haired man say the words “exercise”. She was familiar with the idea of sorcerers and curses so applying her knowledge to her current situation made all the puzzle pieces fall together.

“But before I handle you,” The white haired man started, then turned his eyes towards the waitress standing in front of him. “I have to do this first.”

Rae suddenly felt a strong wind hit her back, causing her to jolt forward and escape the trance she was put in by Hitomi. Not only could she freely move her body again, but the gnawing feeling of pain that Rae felt on her back from earlier had also seemed to disappear. She turned her body around to see the white haired man wink at her and direct his attention back towards the curse, specifically the curse he was after.

“And this is why I despise you sorcerers, you lot are too confident in your weak abilities. ” Hitomi laughed while staring amusingly at Gojo. Gojo kept silent as he ignored the curse's meaningless words and inched closer towards it, the thought of exercising being the only prevalent thing on his mind.

Hitomi sighed out loud, disappointingly.

“However, judging by your presence, I can tell that you may be more of a problem than I estimated. I guess my plan to take the girl won’t be carried out as soon as I thought.” Hitomi mused and then snapped his fingers soon after. A portal aggressively opened up behind Hitomi, and the intensity of it’s force made the furniture rattle and fall, Rae struggle to move, and Gojo’s feet to become heavier.

Gojo debated If he wanted to use his domain expansion, but he saw that the girl behind him had lost her grip that she had on a chair and started to fly towards the portal. Gojo sucked his teeth with irritation and grabbed her body before she was consumed by it.

“This was fun, but sadly our encounter has to end. Do not worry because I will be back for you, Rae.” Hitomi spoke with a crooked smile on face, and stepped backwards into his portal. Before Gojo could even reach him, the hole had already sealed itself back up and the room now only had him and the disheveled waitress of this club who laid in his arms.

“Are you alright?” Gojo tiredly asked the woman only for her to roughly shrug him off of her.

“Don’t touch me!” The waitress hissed while standing up on wobbly legs. Gojo stared at the upset woman disinterestedly and got up from his position on the floor as well.

“Listen,” Gojo began. “That curse was way more intelligent than I initially thought. I think It would be in your best interest to come with me so I can safely look after you.” 

Rae looked at the white haired man as if he had lost his mind.

“Look after me? You and that curse can go to hell. In fact It would be in my best interest if the both of you left me alone.” Rae snapped as she quickly moved past him. As Rae was on her way out of the area completely, she was so lost in thought that she ran straight into her boss’ chest, and when she looked up he stared back at her with a worried expression.

“What happened here?” He questioned incredulously once he saw the mess on the floor, causing him to rush and open up the curtains that would display the rest of the room’s debris. Rae turned around to get the man with the white hair to explain the damages that had transpired, but to her surprise, he had disappeared into thin air just as the cursed man did. 

Rae stood behind her boss, now realizing how terrible this all looked on her behalf. The valuable customer and his money were now gone and the whole area was in shambles. She gulped as her boss turned to her with a red face and comical steam shooting from his ears.

“I don’t know what all went on here,” Rae’s boss fumed, causing her to look at him with wide eyes because she already knew what was coming next. “But you’re fired!” 

[fallenrepublick]

HELL-O HERE'S A CRAZY FOR THRAWN. Let's see, my idea of fic is this: the reader is a stormtrooper who in her spare time, she likes to sing. then one day for no reason she forgets to take off her helmet and Thrawn hears her, and crushes loudly. how about? 👁️���👁️

Mate, you have no idea how many fantasies I’ve had of this scenario.

Okay so when I was writing it I kind of fucked up the prompt a little, because I got carried away so like... it isn’t exact, so if you want me to redo it or whatever, that’s fine just let me know

I listened to that song Journey To The Past from Anastasia while I did this, so that’s kind of what I hear when I think about this, but that’s just me

Warnings: None

He never knew why he chose to go down that hallway. It wasn’t something he had any reason to do, the soldier quarters an unassuming and quite frankly boring place to be. And yet, what he could only ever describe as an instinctual reaction had led him down the hall, the grey walls interspersed with doors and lights that somehow carried with it an even heavier dreariness than the other, practically identical, halls.

It was a strange thing, he thought to himself as his heels clicked forward in their usual steady pace, the existence of this military. Back in the days of the Republic, soldiers had little option to join the war, their very existence designed for battle. Yet once the production of the clones had been stopped, the military hadn’t failed to recruit new soldiers, if anything, they succeeded even further, everyday citizens with a vigor and loyalty to the Empire standing first in line to offer their services.

But those were the officers. The troopers, some of them with a similar sentiment, most without it, were often there by little other choice. So what, he asked himself further, is the difference? 

Nameless faces.

Faceless names.

Hell, even the leadership had stayed the same.

Even still, he was down this hall, and the identical voices in identical helmets suddenly spanned every wavelength, every tone, every accent imaginable. And he found that his mind had drifted from philosophy to imagination, the stories of these people building themselves in his mind, false as they may be, and what once was a pointless detour through a neighborhood he had no place in had turned into almost a creative exercise in possibility.

Thus, when the music began, he didn’t immediately notice. Still utterly encapsulated by the inner workings of his own mind, the thought that something else might not only interrupt his thoughts, but completely distract him from them seemed next to impossible. Something did distract him, however, and the voices he had been hearing around him stopped practically at once, the only sound that now mattered, a single voice, carrying a gentle melody down the dismal barrack hallway, lifting the area from its gloom that had before looked permanently weighted onto the atmosphere. How could he not have followed it?

The echoing of the music against cold metallic walls brought him to a door, nondescript in nature, and most certainly forgettable should muscle memory fail those that reside behind it. What it held behind it was anything but.

To passerbys, it might have looked as if he were making some god-awful attempt at sneaking about. At least to feign some form of casualty, he leaned his back against the door gently, careful not to create a bump that would alarm you, and simply listened.

The longer he stayed, the more he felt your voice pull at his chest, every emotion you would normally be forced to hide from your superiors poured into such a simple song. Yet he couldn’t possibly leave, feeling a strange force securing his feet to the floor. He could feel the heat gradually travelling to his face, just knowing that his cheeks had turned a deep purple, and no internal begging nor pleading would be able to hide such an obvious change. Pull yourself together, he told himself, it’s just music. Lying to himself did little.

But of course, songs don’t last forever, and it wasn’t long before the beautiful sound that had led him here finally ceased, and he was left in a lonely, empty silence that not even his previous thoughts would be enough to fill.

The door hissed behind him, and for a moment, he was falling backwards before catching himself.

Though it took him a moment to realize he had just been caught, the look on your face when he turned to face you was nothing short of horror. Your uniform, your armor, your everything was out of order, and oh god that is THE Grand Admiral and he’s standing right at your door, you must have done something horribly wrong. And he was flushed, meaning he must be angry about something.

“G-Grand Admiral!!” you wound up shouting in fear, giving the best salute you could muster under the circumstances, straightening up and tightening your expression. “I w-was u-unaware that you had been-”

He only barely seemed to be listening, a slight frown that wasn’t necessarily directed at you only making you more nervous.

A voiced face.

“Your name?” he asked simply, earning a gulp from you.

When you gave it, albeit reluctantly, his expression never changed. He only nodded.

A named face.

“You are aware,” he said distractedly, taking quick scans of you as your eyes widened further. “That these walls are incredible sound carriers. Metal transports sound waves at a much quicker rate than the air around us.”

You looked about ready to close the door in utter embarrassment, and understandably so. Though he continued, nonchalant as ever, tapping a studious finger at the door frame, the other hand secured tightly behind him. You assumed it was formality. It was actually to hide the uncontrollable fidgets that might have happened had both his lovestruck hands been left free.

A soldier.

“I couldn’t help but notice your voice,” he said, in spite of himself.

“My voice…”

“Yes.” His eyes flicked away, as if the admission was more nerve-wracking to him than to you. “I fear such talent is wasted in a place like this. If I were to make an offer… would you accept, or at least consider doing so?”

“An offer?” You sucked in a shaky breath, rubbing your arm in disbelief that the conversation had continued as long as it did. “What kind of offer…?”

After what felt like an hour of the tall, pretty, officer deliberating whether or not what he had started was a wise decision, he inhaled, a newly discovered confidence in his position taking full control of his actions.

A story.

“Possibly one of the most soundproof rooms on the ship is my office. If ever you were to need a place to practice…” He paused a moment to review your reaction. “I would gladly provide you full access for those purposes.”

Suddenly feeling your heart pound against your chest, you gave a slow, anxious nod, despite your shallow breathing. It was a kind enough gesture, and your acceptance pleased him, a small smile following his determination.

And even after he left, no doubt to prepare the space for you, a shadow of a gentle hand on your shoulder still lingering against your skin, your hands still trembled, though now in excitement rather than fear. After so long of being generally ignored by Imperial Officers, your first interaction with the one and only Grand Admiral Thrawn had been one of interest. Not only so, but with the newly made deal between the two of you, it was more than likely you would be seeing a lot more of him than you had ever expected. Such a thing only intensified your anticipation.

But for him, walking away ached, a string that had wound itself around his heart and attached itself to you failing to give way to the distance he was forced to forge between yourselves. Thinking about materials you needed was only a distraction from the illogical longing that had made quite the elaborate nest in him. He rushed to find a true space for you, the quicker he could complete the task, the sooner you could come with him.

A home.

[edie-k]

Grin (R/Hr, PG)

Title: Grin

Rating: PG (It’s internal Ron monologue but the language is tame even for him)

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Summary: A missing moment from OOTP. “Well, she said that she was pleased for me.” Hermione’s real reaction to Ron being named Keeper.

Note: Originally written in 2004 and posted on Checkmated under a prior username.

Link to AO3

Ron just could not wipe the grin off his face. He was weaving through the hallways and passing students in his hurry to get to Gryffindor Tower.

Him. Keeper. Keeper AND prefect. That was good, right? It was right on track with Bill and Charlie’s fifth years. As fifth years, they had both been Quidditch team members and prefects. And he was one up on Percy, Fred, and George.

He thought back to the Mirror of Erised in his first year. At first he thought it might show the future. Harry had burst that when he shared his vision in the mirror, disproving his theory. But… what if his heart’s desire had been to see the future? Right? Then maybe he COULD be Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. Okay, so that was probably a stretch. After all, Harry would undoubtedly be Captain. Of course, this time last year he was sure Harry would be made prefect too, so…

He was still sweaty and covered in dirt. Everyone else had stayed to change and shower in the locker rooms but he was in a hurry to get back to the common room to tell Hermione his exciting news.

And because he had worked so hard and achieved his spot, he would reward himself by not lingering on why he was so eager to tell Hermione.

So what if he wanted to tell her first even though he knew she had little patience for Quidditch? That did not mean anything. And so what if he wanted her to be proud of him? It meant nothing.

Really. NOTHING.

He approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who wrinkled her nose slightly at the sight of him. He spoke the password and the portrait hole swung open.

Hermione was sitting at one of the tables near the window, books spread out as she scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment. Light from the setting sun was shining through the window and it made golden streaks appear in her hair that had never been there before. Looking at her made Ron’s stomach do a strange flip for reasons he didn’t care to admit, even to himself.

The common room was rather empty and Ron realized that most of his housemates must be at dinner. Hermione must have been waiting for him before she went down to the Great Hall and the thought made his stomach turn again. When did he start reacting like this to EVERYTHING?

She seemed to sense his presence and looked up to meet his eyes. He opened his mouth to tell her his good news when a familiar look graced her face.

Oh no. The grin slowly slipped off his face.

"Have you been outside? Have you been flying? You’re outside, gallivanting around when you specifically promised me that you would work on your Transfiguration essay and begged me for help."

Shit. He had promised her that, not even thinking about his tryouts. Once he gave her the good news, she would get over it.

"Instead, you selfishly waste my time when I could have been-"

"Waste your time?" Hold on a second. He was a waste of time? She could not just be happy for him and stop nagging for ten seconds? "So now I’m a waste of time?"

"Do you ever really listen to me? I didn’t say you were a waste of time. I said you wasted my time."

Oh, so there were things more important than he was? "I’m so sorry that you have so many other priorities that need to come before me," Ron replied in his most scathing tone. "Please, don’t let me keep you from reading Hogwarts, A History for the sixtieth time or knitting more horrible elf hats or writing another bloody love letter to Vicky!"

For a second, Ron thought Hermione had discovered a spell that allowed her to shoot fire from her eyes. She looked like she might actually explode. She took a deep breath and when she spoke, her voice was dangerously calm.

"I am so very sorry Ron. I did not realize that I was neglecting you so. I apologize for garnering any outside interests that may have interfered with me devoting every single moment of my life to you. I will cease and desist immediately."

Okay, he was not completely sure on the exact meaning of all that phrasing but he was pretty confident that she was being sarcastic. And that just was not fair.

"I’m not asking you to devote your life to me."

"Oh really? Then why am I not allowed to read my books or have my beliefs without you constantly putting me down for it? And do not even mention Viktor!"

"Oh, now I’m very sorry! How dare I insult your little enemy boyfriend!"

"Oh, Ron, just stop it. The Tri-Wizard Tournament is over. Viktor and Harry aren’t competing anymore. And you didn’t have these issues with any of Harry’s OTHER competition!"

"What are you on about?"

"You and your pathetic…" Hermione stopped and seemed to be grasping for her next words. "Drooling!"

"Drooling!" Ron roared back. Wait a second. Yes, maybe Ron stared at Hermione sometimes but there was no drooling and he was very discreet.

"Over Fleur!" Hermione yelled back.

Whew. Okay, maybe there was some truth to that. "Yeah, well, she’s a Veela. And I’m surprised you could be pulled away from Vicky long enough to notice."

"Oh please. Even Professor Binns notices your glazed-over eyes when anything with straight, shiny hair and a perfectly centered nose walks by," Hermione snipped.

That was not true at all. He did not need girls with shiny, straight hair; he loved Hermione’s hair and it was neither of those things. And as for the nose… well, Hermione’s nose was right in the middle. No wait! He didn’t really fancy her, did he? "Oh, and you’re not superficial at all? With the rich, famous boyfriend? And of course, he’s the most important person to you."

"How can you even say that? I have been there for you and Harry every step of the way through everything."

"Correct me if I’m wrong, Hermione, but I think you were underwater with me in that second task."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"The thing you would miss the most? Does that ring any bells?"

"That wasn’t me! That was Viktor. Did I say that I would miss Viktor the most? No. Are Viktor and I involved? No. Did I visit him in Bulgaria this summer? No. I think I spent my entire summer with you."

Ron was quiet for a moment. All of the sudden, they seemed to be heading into very dangerous, confusing territory. Friendship altering territory. Even worse than the argument after the Yule Ball. And all of this was just because she could not be happy for him making Keeper.

"For your safety! Because Dumbledore made you! I sincerely doubt that you enjoyed missing out on your quality time with Vicky."

"No Ron. I didn’t. I enjoy spending time with you more than I do with anyone else. Merlin knows why! Maybe for once, our argument could be about what the real problem is!" Hermione yelled.

"And what is that?" Ron bellowed back.

Hermione’s tone changed completely. She said each word slowly and carefully. "Do you really not know?"

Whoa, what? Her tone, the look in her eyes, the whole-the whole vibe of the room changed completely and even though she had not said anything explicit, he just knew what she was talking about. And suddenly they were standing way too close and the room was way too hot and there was way too much tension. He could feel his ears begin to burn and his whole face ignited. Somehow, his hand had ended up on her arm and she had tilted her face up, looking directly in his eyes and…

"Ron!" squealed Ginny as she bounced into the common room. "Oh, Ron, I’m so happy for you! And no one else in the family has ever made Keeper!"

The second he had heard Ginny, Ron had yanked his arm away from Hermione and she had taken about two steps backward. He gave Ginny an awkward smile and hazarded a glance at Hermione. Hermione was looking at him with a small grin. "What?" he asked her.

"You made Keeper?"

"Well, of course I made Keeper! I told-" Wait a second. Ron quickly reviewed their conversation. The whole fight had been about how she could care less about his achievement but that didn’t really seem like Hermione. Had he forgotten to mention that he had been named Keeper? "Uh, yeah. Didn’t I tell you?"

"No," Hermione said.

"Oh," said Ron, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Well… yeah, I am."

"Congratulations," she said quietly. "I am very pleased for you."

"Thanks," Ron replied, suddenly realizing that Ginny was there and watching them closely with a knowing grin. "So, um, I’m going to go shower and change."

"Oh, right," Hermione began to blush too. "Well, dinner," she stuttered out.

"Yeah, um, I’ll catch up with you two," he said.

"I think Fred and George have a big celebration planned," Ginny interjected.

"Okay, um, cool. So bye Hermione, bye Gin," he said, backing towards the staircase.

"Bye Ron," said Ginny with a laugh. "See you in ten minutes." Hermione just waved and followed Ginny out the portrait hole.

Ron watched them go. So the argument was his fault. He had forgotten to tell her and just jumped into the accusations. But they were over it and… and had Hermione said she enjoyed spending time with him above anyone else? Bloody hell, she had!

His grin was back.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Happy Holidays - BTS Style

9. “Are you crying?”

16. “Wow. Are you always this...attractive?”

17. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Pairing: Jin x soulmate (based off of my series 7 Secrets)

The sounds of sizzling pans and dishes clacking are what tip off Kyung-soon to the whereabouts of her soulmate. Immediately upon entering the apartment, she kicks off her shoes and makes sure to place them tidily on the shoe rack after a pointed look from Hoseok. 

Heading toward the kitchen, a gentle smile lights up her features as Jin and Jimin are bustling about the kitchen, Jungkook sitting at the island and watching them. 

“Is this enough?” Jimin asks, holding up a cutting board filled with chopped onion. Jin sees his soulmate and holds out his hand to her while assessing the vegetable. 

“Here, I’ll finish it up. Would you take care of that?” Jin points to the stove and whatever is cooking on it. Jimin doesn’t ask any questions, just smiling in greeting to Kyung-soon before beginning to work over the stove.

Jin begins chopping more onion, so Kyung-soon settles down at the island beside Jungkook. 

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks her. Kyung-soon smiles at the younger boy. 

“Pretty good. How are you?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “Great, just waiting for Seohyun to let my soulmate go.” 

Jin laughs evilly. “Is she making her play ping pong with her again?” Jungkook nods, obvious annoyance on his face. Kyung-soon shoots Jin a glare.

“You know that’s all your fault, right?”

“I know.”

“When is your rematch? This all needs to end already. Between ping pong and studying, I never get to see her anymore.”

Jungkook must immediately regret his choice of words, because both Jin and Jimin take the opportunity to tease him. 

“Ooh, poor Jungkookie,” Jin whines. Jimin laughs beside him.

“Why don’t you just go over there if you miss her so much? Quit pouting and do something about it.” Jimin says. 

Jungkook’s eyes go wide. “I don’t want to be stuck there playing ping pong all night! Seohyun nearly killed me the last time!” 

As if appearing upon hearing his soulmate’s name, Yoongi wanders in. “What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Now Jungkook smiles. “Hyung, let’s go play ping pong.”

Yoongi doesn’t need much convincing, heading straight out. The three that remain in the kitchen snicker; Yoongi can never deny a game of ping pong with his soulmate. This will lead to the perfect opportunity for Jungkook to steal Minsuh away.

This exact same scenario happens almost every day.

Jin is busy chopping up the leftover onion, shoulders tense as he carefully moves from one end to the other. Something about his posture and concentration has Kyung-soon sliding off her chair and wandering over to him. 

Leaning up against the counter, she takes a long look at her soulmate, eyes practically glowing. 

“Wow. Are you always this...attractive?”

Jimin bursts out laughing at Kyung-soon’s question, Jin going bright red. He continues focusing on the task at hand, heart pounding in his chest. 

“What kind of silly question is that.” Jin grinds out, refusing to look at Kyung-soon. She continues looking at him, enjoying the view until she asks another question.

“Are you crying?”

Jimin stops where he’s standing over the stove to peek over at his Hyung. “He’s totally crying.”

“Yah!” Jin laughs, dropping the onion into the pan. It starts sizzling as soon as it touches the hot metal, the smell filling the room. 

“I’ve got it from here,” Jimin reassures. “Go get your emotions under control.”

“My emotions - it’s just the onion!” Jin shrieks, looking appalled. He turns to his soulmate for support but she’s fighting to keep a straight face. 

“C’mon Jin,” she mumbles, pushing him along. “You’re clearly upset, let’s take a breather.”

Jin continues to yell in indignation, alerting the entire household to his emotional state. Kyung-soon manages to push him out onto the balcony, the cold air hitting the two of them and taking their breath away. 

Gaping down at her soulmate, Jin glares before pulling her into his arms to keep her warm. “Why are we outside? You know there’s an entire heated house right here?”

Kyung-soon nuzzles in deeper to her soulmate’s chest, not minding the cold as long as she’s in Jin’s arms. “I know.”

Jin doesn’t ask any further questions, instead opting to sit in the quiet that the snow offers. Everything is so much quieter out here, and despite the winter air it’s not unbearably cold. 

A few stray snowflakes are drifting to the ground as Jin focuses on the distant lights from the city nearly hidden beyond the trees. It’s only when Kyung-soon’s grip tightens and she lets out a long sigh that Jin speaks again.

“What’s wrong?”

Kyung-soon isn’t often upset, in fact she prides herself on usually being the most level-headed person she knows. Yet on the occasion that something is wrong, her soulmate has never not picked up on it. 

It’s almost like Jin was made for her.

It takes her a moment to speak up, but Jin never pushes her. Instead he opts to hold her even tighter, lightly drawing stars on her back while he waits. 

He’s just completed his seventh star when Kyung-soon starts to speak. Her voice is delicate as she talks about what happened earlier that day.

She had a client today, interested in buying a large property on the edge of Seoul. Jin had heard about this client before; closing this sale would mean a lot for Kyung-soon and her career as one of the most elite realtors in Seoul. 

Apparently the client had brought his daughters along with him to view the property. Not uncommon, and she hadn’t thought much about it at first. That was, until the client was hovering his pen over the contract and promising to sign under one condition.

“He wanted you to leave me?” Jin asks, disbelief obvious in his tone. 

Kyung-soon nods slowly against his chest. “Yes. He told me that he’d pay double for the property if I left you and gave his daughters your personal information.”

While Jin always expects people to be unsupportive of the fact that they have soulmates, he never ceases to be disgusted with the lengths some people will go to in order to separate them. 

“I’m assuming you didn’t listen to him.”

“Of course not.”

Jin pulls back, tilting her chin up enough to look at his soulmate in the eyes. Those eyes, imbued with some inner light, always manage to take his breath away. 

“But you lost the sale.”

Again, Kyung-soon nods. 

Jin sighs, his eyes roving over her face as he wrestles with the anger growing inside him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Kyung-soon’s eyes grow wide as she panics at his words. “What do you mean?!” 

“Come here,” Jin doesn’t bother to explain as he tugs his soulmate inside and heads straight up to his room. Namjoon and Beth look at them quizzically as they march past them, but don’t bother to say anything. 

Once in Jin’s room, he sets about opening up his laptop and pulling up a program. 

“Jin, what’s going on?” Kyung-soon asks, still panicking. 

Jin turns around, breathing heavily with barely contained anger. “First, I love you.”

Kyung-soon blinks up at him. “I love you too...?”

“Second, I need you to just trust me for a second. I know you’ll be a little angry, say that I’m being overprotective...but this can’t go on like this. People need to be put in their place.”

Eyes growing wide, Kyung-soon fumbles to stop Jin once she sees that he’s pulled up the v-live app. “Jin, wait. Whatever you say on here you can’t take back-”

“Don’t worry, Soon-ah.” Jin holds up a notecard that was sitting on his desk. “I’ve been planning this for a while. I won’t say anything that bad.”

Hesitantly sitting beside Jin, Kyung-soon watches in horror as Jin turns the camera on. He passes her the notecard so she can look at what he’s written down, chewing her lip as tears prick at her eyes. 

The two of them are silent as the viewers roll in at lightning speed, Kyung-soon heart rate picking up with each new viewer. 

Jin is tense beside her, and Kyung-soon reaches down to grab his hand. She begins to trace stars on the back of his hand, watching as he waits to hit a certain number of viewers before starting.

She’s just finished tracing the seventh star when Jin begins to speak. 

“Hello everyone, Jin here. I hope you’re doing well. I just had a couple of things I wanted to say. Also, yes, I’ll probably get into trouble with Bighit, but what else is new?”

He winks at the camera, Kyung-soon raising her eyebrows at him with an expression of long-suffering. Leaning forward, Jin stares down the camera for a long moment before beginning with the first item on his little list.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

@taylorroe3​

[bnha-scenerios-imagines]

What if Endeavor had an affair with another woman between the times of Natsuo and Fuyumi? Maybe the reader is the unofficial half sibling to them and they come by one day to tell him of their mother's death and runs into all three of the Todoroki siblings? Bonus if they run into Dabi beforehand and maybe he knew about them long before anyone else did? It was a fascinating idea that seemed plausible. Extra bonus if the reader has a healing water quirk. I love your work and have a nice day!! :D

I didn’t really mention the quirk! I hope that is okay!!

You stood across from him, his tall figure was seated at the table where you had interrupted his ‘personal time’. His hand gripped the mug of his drink, you could see the liquid inside boil under the heat of his hand.

“My mother is dead,” You crosses your arms, your one hand gripping the letter she had asked for you to deliver to the man. You had successfully avoided him for a good portion of your life, you had never mentioned the fact that the so-called hero, Endeavour, was your father to anyone. It was a secret that only your mother and yourself knew. It was why you had been tasked to give him the letter. You were the only one who knew.

His tapping ceased and his head turned towards you, his eyes glaring into your own. He moved the cup to rest against the surface, the boiling stopping momentarily as a small grimace graced his lips.

You knew he didn’t care. She was a one night stand, a mistake that he could never change. You knew if she had come forward years ago his life would have been ruined, both her and him would have been looked down upon. Perhaps it was because of this fact that he reluctantly spoke, 

“My condolences,” he refuses to look at you in the eyes. His own still focusing on his cup. His thoughts swirling as he took another sip. 

You scoffed.

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” you leaned over and placed the envelope on the other side of the table, “she wanted me to deliver this to you.” You pulled your hand back, glaring at the man, “also, don’t come to the funeral. We don’t need news outlets digging up that you have a bastard daughter.” You turned on your heel and left through the kitchen door, freezing when you saw two of his children standing right outside of the kitchen door, the two of them making eye contact with you. You stood there for a moment, taking in their features before looking back at him. You said nothing as you continued out of the home. 

...

It’s raining the day of your mother’s funeral, the dirt still soft as you stand over her casket, saying goodbye one last time before she’s lowered into the grave. Friends and family place flowers on her grave, pulling away and crying into each other while you stand alone. 

“She could have been so successful,” you grandmother says from beside you, “but she slept around so much she couldn’t land a single job,”

You have to bite your tongue. You want to punch that woman square in the face, despite your mother doing everything for her. Your mother had to lie to protect the two of you, she had to move every time Todoroki found you two.

“She was a better mother than you were,” you spoke calmly. Your hand gripping the handle of your umbrella tighter. Your grandmother opens her mouth to speak but before she can say anything your uncle sweeps in, pulling her away saying it’s time to go.

You stand there as people continue to leave, whispering words of encouragement and giving you side hugs as they pass you.

It’s not until the place is completely empty do you feel someone standing next to you. Your head tilts to the side to look at them but the way they’ve positioned their umbrella makes it impossible to see there face.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” His voice is low but genuine. His hand readjusts it’s grip on his umbrella, moving closer to you,

“Thank you.. She was a good person. We’re you a friend?” You looked back towards her grave.

“I didn’t know her personally.” He hums, looking over at you, “you’ll make it through this though,”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling as you glance back at the stranger.

“Endeavour has hurt me too... don’t let yourself fall into any trouble. You have a good road ahead of you,”

Your head snaps to face the man again but you’re frozen when you see he’s gone. You stand there in silence for a moment before taking a step back, focusing on the gravestone for a moment before you moved to leave, no longer finding warmth in the presence of your mother.

“I’m telling you Fuyumi it’s down this way!”

Your head looks up when you see the three white-haired children of Todoroki a few aisles down from where you were standing. The three of them all dressed in black and white. Natsuo is pointing in the opposite direction as his sister shakes her head, pointing to where you were standing,

“Her last name isn’t Todoroki, it’s this way,”

The youngest brother says nothing, simply standing still as he holds both his umbrella and his sister’s. It’s only now you see the large bouquet of flowers that she’s holding in her arm.

Shouto sees you first. He gently nudged his sister and motions to you with his head. There is a moment of silence before Natsuo speaks up,

“Oh! Hello!” He crosses through the distance between you and the three of them quickly, Fuyumi stumbling behind him and in turn, Todoroki trying to cover his sister from the rain. 

“Hello,” you nod your head, unsure of how to proceed. You had expected them to ignore you.. not come to you on the day that you buried your mother.

“Sorry for bothering you, we saw each other a few weeks ago,” Natsuo holds his hand out for you to take. “You’re... uh, our sister?”

“Natsuo,” Fuyumi hisses, bumping into her brother before looking back at you, “I’m sorry for my brother’s behaviour we were just... a little shocked,” she carefully holds out the bouquet of flowers for you to take, “these are from us,” 

 You look down at the flowers, hesitant to take them. You didn’t want flowers from Enji Todoroki yo be laying on your mother’s grave. It would be the exact opposite of what she would want. It would only insult everything she had done to keep you two safe. 

“They’re not from our father,” Shouto says, staring at you, “they’re from us.”“Thank you,” you take the flowers from her, managing to hold them with one hand as you held your umbrella with the other, “You three didn’t to come...” you tilted your head to the side. 

“Our father is an idiot-“ Natsuo is cut off briefly when Fuyumi glares at him, “He’s an asshole really and the way he must have treated you and your mom..”“We wanted to apologize,” Fuyumi finishes. When she bows so do the two boys. You want to reach out and rest your hand on her shoulder to tell them that they don’t need to do anything. They aren’t their father and what he’s done to your family is his own problem, not theirs. But your hands are full. 

“Don’t- His mistakes are not yours,” You motion towards your mother’s grave with your head, “I didn’t know him very well. My mother made sure we didn’t,” You began to walk towards your mother grave once again, the three of them following behind you. “When he learned about my quirk he wanted to put his name on my birth certificate, he wanted to become my father,” you bent down and rested the flowers in front of her headstone. “But my mother refused,” you laughed a little when you thought about it, “she hit him hard and threatened him... she told me that the night she slept with him was the biggest mistake of her life, the only good thing that came out of it was me,” you slowly stood up, “he tried to bring me back to his home but my mother stopped him, she kicked and screamed and wouldn’t let me go,” your hand gently traced the scar that was on your upper arm, “he burned me. When he let go we ran. She moved every time he found us. She lied to her family and said she slept with a bunch of guys and she didn’t know who the father was,” you looked back at them, “my family saw my mother as a whore for the rest of her life. They didn’t want her to come over during family celebrations. She was the mistake in her family. But we were happy,”Fuyumi frowned, her eyes began to water as she took a tentative step closer, wrapping her arm around you. She sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks as she whispered apologies. 

You gently patted her back, bringing her the only comfort you could. 

“You’re not to blame for your father’s actions,” you rested your head against hers, “Please don’t cry,” 

When she finally pulled away Shouto gently patted his sisters back in an attempt to comfort her while Natsuo spoke,

“We’ve never introduced ourselves-“

“I know who you are, Shouto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo.” You bowed your head before you held your hand out for them, “my name is (Full Name) But you can call me (Name). It’s nice to meet you,”

Natsuo barks out a laugh, taking your hand in his own, grinning.

“Well (Name). What do you say we go somewhere warmer? We can talk? Get to know one another,” he looked over his shoulder at his sister who smiles over at you.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” you followed them as they walked out of the cemetery. Your eyes looking back at your mother one last time before you moved to stand next to Shouto, asking about his classes.

[shahzadarsi17-blog]

Private Branding: A Complete Manual

Without a doubt, we all have a personal brand name. You have a personal brand and also been sharing this brand using everyone that you have ever are in contact with. The way you choose to portray by yourself is your personal brand. At this point, the question is can you agree with this brand? Is it a real representation of who you are?

What exactly is Brand?

Your brand is actually people say about you when you are not in the room" : Jeff Bezos, Founder associated with Amazon

Actually a brand is completely anything, the mere proven fact that you know that one thing is certainly not the other, is branding. As a result a brand is a name, a thought, design, symbols, attributes, status and quality that separate one feature from yet another. That is why Apple's identity differs from the others from Samsung's, even though they offer, essentially, the same idea. Very same ideas, but different strategies to presenting them. That's the things that make the each one unique. Customer avatar

Think about Personal Branding?

"All individuals need to understand the importance of logos. We are CEOs of our very own companies: Me Inc. To stay in business today, our most crucial job is to be head online marketer for the brand called An individual. " - Tom Peters

It is the same concept, the sole difference is that it is now over a personal scale. Your personal label is your brand name. You look completely different from everyone else, therefore your physical appearance is your brand design. You will have different parents, fingerprints, prices, personality, voice, qualities, notion and elements than all others. Therefore , you are unique.

This is just what personal branding is about, currently being your original authentic do it yourself and presenting yourself as a result. You do not see Apple as well as Samsung showcasing their manufacturers in a similar manner, even though they are fundamentally selling the same idea.

You might have the same qualifications, knowledge and you might even have gone for the same learning institution because the candidate you are competing to the job with. Who and then gets the job? It is just about all up to your personal brand.

"Personal branding is about managing your own personal name - even if you may own a business - inside a world of misinformation, disinformation, and also semi-permanent Google records. A weight date? Chances are that your "blind" date has Googled your personal name. Going to a job meeting? Ditto. " - Claire Ferriss

Why is a great private brand important for your career?

Top rated tips:

CVs or resumes are no longer enough. In fact , I actually predict that in the years into the future, resumes, as we know them nowadays will cease to exist. Be steady in the manner you sell your own brand. Showcase your ability and become a leader in your area associated with. Sell your unique promise. Speak your true values, guidelines, ethics and integrity successfully and consistently.

Focusing on all these strategies will help you get, not merely any job, but a career that is best suited for you. Just how is that? Because the manner in which anyone communicate your brand will be specific and unique to you personally. And you might have the exact requirements with your job competitor, nonetheless your attributes would be diverse. This way, you are not a duplicate regarding another, as that can be seen as boring and predictable. Additionally, this strategy allows you to attract the proper employer that appreciates along with values your brand assure. Digital marketing service

So what would make your company stand-out? What makes you dissimilar to anyone else? And why is it important build your personal brand? Discuss will help you build an authentic in addition to marketable personal brand. The following are the tips to help you be unique industry by storm competition.

Looking At Your Talents

This is an important factor in personalized branding. It is not an idea simply centred on your own perceptions, but in addition of those who know you actually well.

Those with a solid particular brand, know who they are and exactly they want in life. In fact , these are crystal clear on that. This is how you get to understand and identify your unique selling points. So that you can help you with this important activity, I have compiled several concerns for you to help keep you give attention to identifying your true talents:

What was/were the highlight/s of my career, as well as why am I so pleased with these moments? What was one of the most fulfilling task or job I have ever worked on, and also why was it rewarding? What role do I constantly play in group jobs, and how do others inside the group view me? How can you overcome the most challenging obstructions? What tools do I make use of? What do I enjoy doing the almost all (business or leisure) Only were to talk to someone regarding the subject that I enjoy the nearly all, what would it be? Merely were to accomplish something involving great significance to me, along with there would be no obstacles connected with any kind to stand in your path, what would it be? Currently, try to think of 10 one-word descriptions of your strengths at the. g. creative, compassionate etc Choose people who know a person, your friends, family and colleagues and enquire of them to each give you their very own insight of what your benefits are. After doing in which compare your lists having theirs. Share your record with them and see if they see you the same way as you look at yourself.

"Emphasize your strong points on your CV, in your protect letters and in your job interviews. It may sound obvious, yet you'd be surprised how many people basically list everything they've ever before done. Convey your interest and link your advantages to measure results. Organisations and interviewers love tangible data" - Marcus Buckingham

Now that you know what your talents are, use them. Utilise these as part of your strategic plan in the daily activities as well as with possible employers. Let the right customers know these gifts. Converse them effectively using every single relevant resource available to you. You should use your CV to highlight your current strengths, online profiles and also you must unquestionably have a individual website as your digital CURRICULUM VITAE. Just remember your values in addition to ethics when communicating in your audience. This will set an individual apart.

Know your Constraints

We all have weaknesses, nonetheless it is not always easy to approve them. It is in your welfare to be completely honest along with your self about what your limits are or you will set yourself on the spot for significant disappointments. Remember that a weak spot is anything from staying utterly uninterested about something in life to having limited expertise to do anything of interest.

"My perspective is that if you push us towards something that you think is actually a weakness, then I will convert that perceived weakness directly into strength" - Michael Jordan

Why don't help you identify these flaws:

Which aspects of my career/ education that I like the the very least, and why? Am I somebody who believes completely that I should have more and better? Do I come to be debilitated by the thought of the need to perform certain tasks? What type of tasks? What were time points in my career, as well as why? In a group circumstance, which role/s do I just like the least? What was the least successful task/project I have ever done, and why did it are unsuccessful? In the face of obstacles, what makes my family give up? What is the most uninspiring subject to talk about for me? Exactly what do I think are my 15 weaknesses? Be honest with yourself. Since on question 9 throughout strengths, only substitute weak point for strength.

Do not waste material your time with weaknesses which often not hinder your specialist goals. Establish what restriction you can turn into strengths so that you can jump-start your career. Learn the relevant skills that will help you progress. Put your self in uncomfortable networking scenarios if you need people skills as an example. Remember to mainly focus on weak spots that hold you back coming from achieving your potential.

Major tip: Your strengths are generally what gives you an edge in fact it is crucial that you use them to your advantage.

Prices

Knowing what your values usually are, is knowing who you are and you stand for. Having solid values, help you establish and also navigate your thoughts so that they are usually in synergy with your passion along with essence. In other words, before you require yourself in anything at all, consider, "is this in connect with my values and exactly I stand for? "

Principles are essentially a set of key points that you live by. They will define the codes this determine your personality, approach, actions, reactions and so on. Consider it this way; perhaps the reason you will be unhappy at work is because your own personal values are not allied with the information you do. Having values, consequently , is standing-up for what you imagine in. It is crucial to align you with what you engage oneself in.

"Love is the manifestation of one's values, the greatest incentive you can earn for the moral features you have achieved in your figure and person, the mental price paid by anyone for the joy he or she will get from the virtues of a different. " - Ayn Rand

Define your values

There are numerous of places in the internet who have great resources on how to create your values for your private brand. These are in a kind of a list of adjectives that talks about your values. Find a collection most suited for you and by a task of elimination, choose the leading 5 words that wedding rings true to you and you. Establish why you chose these words and define whatever they mean to you. Use them to create your personal mission statement in addition to hold yourself accountable if not respecting your values. These kinds of values should be communicated with your CV, website, social media websites and blog posts.

Passion

Have got passion for what you do! That is why biggest secret. It might seem to be difficult to reconcile the idea of enthusiasm and work. However , carry out establish that which you enjoy carrying out. That which gives you joy. On top of that, consider topics that charm you, that keep you motivated and wanting more.

Should you be still confused about what your love might be, think about a time once you could not wait to do anything or read about something. Take into account the time you could not hang on to get out of bed, and about the things which moved you to tears. Remember the projects that produced feel creative and had anyone filled with ideas. When you sense stimulated and motivated to accomplish something, then you are excited about it.

Ask yourself:

What do I enjoy about my current career? If I were to volunteer, which usually charity would you choose? Exactly why? What do you spend most of your time and energy doing?

"There is no appreciation to be found playing small-in negotiating for a life that is lower than the one you are capable of existing. " - Nelson Mandela

Your job related interests must be in more or less in the following areas:

Research Problem solver Analysing Planning Managing Organizing Mentoring Creating Counselling Instruction Writing

Other ways of connection

Listening Negotiating and many more

Features

What words would you make usage of to describe yourself? Also consider the lyrics that others might value to describe you. Deliberate around the following words without constraining yourself; creative, thoughtful, futurist, ambitious, resourceful, risk-taker, peacemaker, ethical, connected, compassionate, super-hero, worldly, diplomatic and so on. Locate attributes that best represents your personality and utilize them to communicate your manufacturer essence.

Positioning

Once you are very clear about your values, attributes and fervour, it's time to now placement yourself. What does that mean specifically? It is simply means that you should look at how others perceive you actually based on your strengths, principles, mission, attributes and passion. Bear in mind, this is about authenticity. Of work, you have to be consistent concerning who you say that you are.

Create a positioning statement. This specific statement you can use during selection interviews as it is more powerful and new than going on about your tedious career past. It catches your essence and individuality.

Target Audience

At this point you should have everything required in order to attract the right viewers. You must first determine the industry in which you want to work, then search for best organisations you wish to work for. Perform an extensive research on these kind of organisations and establish just what problems they are faced with; you could be a match for them according to your unique strengths, values, article topics and attributes.

With your groundwork done, create a personal model strategy using the keywords with job descriptions to attract all their attention. After all, they want to seek the services of good talent and someone who matches their standards. Still remember to never give whatever you have, reserve some of your personal good selling points for any interview.

[snicketstrange]

The "R" letter to Lemony was actually sent by the real R

This is part 6 of Strange Interpretation by Jean Lúcio from Brazil.

To understand this text, it is necessary to read some of my previous texts.

I will now continue the explanation of my theory about R's letter to Lemony. I believe the true sender of this letter is the real R. I would not say that believing this is essential to understanding the rest of my theory. However, I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I feel the need to present the succinct result of my concentrated thoughts. 

I believe that the real "R" purposely missed the color of the car in the staging and the position of the car. I believe she used a kind of Duress code. In the minutes of the VFD meeting partially printed in chapter 3 of the UA, there is a record of a speech of R, which is spelled out. "Someone migth, for example, forget crucial information regarding the exact location of the automobiles we use to store necessary files and convey messages." The person who underlined this passage, wrote the following at the edge of the page: "an interesting idea ..." I believe R thought this was an interesting idea to use as Duress code. After all, she knew the Snicket family would be sure that R would never forget the location and color of the car. In the letter found on page 83 of the UA, R states that he would never forget the location of the secret Jeep. Now notice what Lemony first thought of when reading the letter as described in her personal notes:

"The Jeep outside the Orion Observatory was of course not navy blue but black, and parked in the northwest corner, not the southwest." She would never forget this The real R was tested on this information every month for more than seven years. IS SHE TRYING TO TELL ME SOMETHING? "

In addition, in the letter's contents, there is evidence that R used secret codes based on books. All the books that are quoted in the letter are among those cited in chapter 10 of the UA: Charlotte's Web, Green Mansions, Ivan Lachrymose: Lake Explorer. In chapter 10, the excerpt from Carlotte's Web makes reference to crickets that sing: "Summer is over and gone", Over and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying. "Among the books cited in chapter 10 of the AU, there is a book called "Mamba du Mau: A Snake that will never kill me." In this book, the author (Uncle Monty using an anagram as a pseudonym) explains that Mamba du Mal and garden crickets can be trained to alert people. If crickets or Mamba du Mau say, "Summer is" for instance, they are communcating a coded version of the phrase "Enemie are nerby. "

If they say the phrase "Over and gone" they actually mean "probably in disguise" and the word "dying" as a code for "Beware of arson".

So when R talked about crickets in the winter, it's likely she was sending the message to Lemony: "Enemie are nerby, probably in disguise." Beware of arson. This knowledge about codes using books is not widespread on the side of Lemony's enemies. Most of them do not like to read. That's why secret codes using books are so safe.

The other book cited by R is Ivan Lachrymose: Lake Explorer. This is a book that was written solely to keep secret documents between pages 302 and 303, also according to chapter 10 of the UA. Thus, in saying that this book was lost, R is claiming that she lost important documents in the fire of her house. All sides of Shism know the secret of this book, so I can not use it here as an argument to defend the authenticity of the letter of R. However, I am in the process of understanding the secret code hidden in Green Mansions. I have not yet reached a final conclusion, but I know that this is one of the books cited in Chapter 10 of the AU. At the moment, I think the way to decode this code is similar to the Verse Fluctuation Declaration. The difference is that the coded words are omitted. In chapter 10 of the UA, there is an excerpt with some words omitted from Green Mansions.

It is written thus:

"It is a cause of great regret to me that this task has taken so much longer to time than I had expected for its completion ... A darkened chamber, the existence of which had never been suspected in that familiar house ... the only thing that would have to do with it would be that it would have to be the same as that of the serpent. untold chapter in a man's life for imagination to work on. "

To find out what was written in the gaps, I went to the original work. There I found the following text in the first gap:

"It is now many months-over a year, in fact-since I wrote to Georgetown announcing my intention of publishing, IN A VERY FEW MONTHS, the whole truth about Mr. Abel. , and I had hoped that the discussion in the newspapers would have ceased, at all events, until the appearance of the promised book.It was not so at this distance from Guiana I was not aware of how much conjectural matter was being printed week by week in the local press, some of which must have been painful reading to Mr. Abel's friends "

I found this passage so significant! If you replaced the name Mr Abel by Mr Snicket, that whole section would make sense in the subject of the letter.

When I read I was surprised. The excerpt talks about book publications, about dubious newspaper information, about how the character's friends were concerned about this information. The passage talks about a trip abroad, specifically for South America. And as we know, the Prospero travels to South America, at least to Peru. It seems very much that all this was planned by Daniel Handler, and if that was the case, my admiration for him increased a lot. 

But this is just a hypothesis.

Anyway, I want to finish this text, showing that there are evidences that the letter of R was actually written by R.

The information described in the letter regarding the Masked Ball is very similar to the other information we have about what happened on the Masked Ball. Lemony does not deny that he left several disguises in the hands of R. And most important, R wrote: "Your typewriter is gone, and the bright blue accordion, with I belive you told me your third favorite.

The author of the letter knew about the blue accordion, and that this was Lemony's third favorite. This is very personal information, and hardly an impostor would know that. Lemony does not say something like, "I believe this letter comes from an impostor because I did not leave any disguise at her house." He also does not say, "I believe this letter comes from an impostor because my third favorite accordion was not that blue." So, everything leads me to believe that the R letter is authentic. 

Although I have not completely convinced you of this, at least you must believe the following: if by chance this letter comes from an imposter, this impostor forced R to pass specific information to him or her. This impostor knows what happened on the Masked Ball, and by writing about what happened in the Masked Ball, the impostor is not lying. Lemony at no time denies the events described in the letter. And what I need for my theory is just the proof that these events really happened.

And for you to know this, it will help you understand what I think about when that Masked Ball happened in which Lemony was captured using a bullfighter costume. I will speak about this in the next text.

Please comment !

[usuknetwork]

USUK Christmas Countdown 2017: December 13

Title: The Song of a Heart Day 1: Music Summary: It’s almost Christmas. Arthur is deaf and is given a chance to restore his hearing, but little does he know that a certain street performer knows exactly what he’s going through. Rating: T, for mild language Warning: Angst, Comfort

(Written by: @birb-draws and Art by: @lily-clare)

The wind whistled sharply down the narrow London alleyways, ushering people into their homes and sending their windows flying shut; anyone caught outside was given a fierce reminder of what was yet to come. Winter had arrived and thick pools of slush were already piling in the dips of the pavement, promising children a lousy upcoming Christmas with not enough snow to roll around in.

Up ahead, the distant ringing of bells seemed to beckon very few brave souls out of their houses and into church, but to some it only seemed as though people were emerging from their warm homes for no particular reason...

Arthur didn't hear the bells. He didn't hear the windows slamming shut. He didn't hear the howling wind. He didn't even hear the sound of his own footsteps.

He heard nothing.

It was like an emptiness had invaded his ears, won the battle and stood guard, scaring off any noise that dared to pass by. Perhaps Arthur couldn't hear, but he could feel. He felt all the slightest touches of the wind as though it had weaved its way through his skin and buried itself into his bones.

Ever since the British student turned eight and onwards, all of his senses had become more susceptible, but one of them less so. Whatever had affected him hadn't exactly been for the best, some would say, since the poor blond had lost all traces of his hearing. Eventually, he had grown tired of people pitying him; telling him how everything was going to be alright even though there wasn't much of a problem to begin with. It's not like he was on the verge of death, so why over-exaggerate? His family would always make such a big fuss, and whenever a problem would arise, they'd bring up his complication and use it to defend themselves. Something like 'my son's deaf, you can't say that' was a pretty popular choice among his ménage.

At first, waking up to complete silence and watching your mother mouth mute words was a scary experience, but after a few months or so it became a routine for the scrawny blond, though it did take a while to get used to his flashing alarm clock, specified for people with similar problems.

It was as though he was all alone in this world... No one would treat him the same as they used to. There were more of those stupid fake smiles being thrown around him, more of the people who'd help him with even the most simple of acts as though he had not only lost the ability to hear, but to play out basic tasks too. He wasn't stupid, he was simply deaf.

Arthur breathed out a long and slow breath, his eyelids drooping midway as he watched the hot fog emit from his mouth and fade into the air around him.

He understood people were just being nice, so why not take the hint when he'd insist he could take his own plate back to the kitchen rather than have four people offer to do so? He was sick and tired of it, being treated like a child. The urges he'd get to scream and shout at people to stop driving him insane were always unbearable, but could he do it? What a silly question...

I'm eighteen, for God's sake, Arthur thought to himself with his signature frown playing on his lips. And I'm so lost...

Wrapped up in thick layers of clothing, Arthur pulled his crimson red scarf farther up his face, just enough to cover his pale lips. What have I become?

Whether or not he'd ever find the answer to that question was beyond him.

Who was he?

The journey to the grocery store was taking a reasonable time judging by the displeasing weather. Usually it was quite difficult to tread through thick layers of snow, but with a bit more willpower to get to a warm shelter much sooner than later, Arthur seemed to have shortened that period pretty drastically.

With rosy, flushed cheeks and minuscule snowflakes setting on his lashes, the Brit just about managed to pick his way correctly through the vast expanse of pure white.

Turning on a sharp corner, the blond felt a familiar sensation tingling in the air... It felt like music. A steady, perhaps a bit out-of-tune, beat weaving its way through the cold city. As he neared the source of vibrations in the air, Arthur's eyes found themselves set on a man - huddled a little way by the entrance of a store - in rags and seated on a few pieces of long, thin cardboard.

Peering a little closer, the Brit was able to catch a glint of blue from beneath those constantly squeezing shut eyes with every strained note the other seemed to be singing. At least, that's what Arthur expected he was doing. A few golden strands of hair had protruded from under his wooly hat and framed the stranger's face very, very nicely.

At the sight of Arthur, the man slowly came to a stop, his fingers ceased their movement on the guitar he held in his hands, and he peered up at the Brit expectedly through his thick bundle of clothes, just as he always did.

Yes, this street performer was no exact stranger to Arthur. Over the course of a few weeks of moving into his flat, Arthur tended to take this route throughout the week to get to his favourite (and closest) store which of course was always accompanied by this... Man.

Arthur had never even taken the moment to learn his name. It was quite a simple world, really; you threw a coin or two into a beggar's hat and ignored them in any other situation you'd see them in. But, for Arthur, his world was a little different... He was very much aware of the hardships in life - especially in this dreadful weather - and was more than willing to help a guy out. Of course, he hoped this blond wasn't spending his money on drugs or alcohol, and instead on real necessities like access to food and water.

He could never be sure, although this performer did seem very promising.

Despite the rather huge lack of savings the other would get for each of his performances, Arthur still continued to give him some change whenever he got the chance.

In fact, that thought lead him to wondering as to why exactly this man didn't get much money? The Brit had seen other street musicians with twice as many hats full to the brim of notes and shiny coins. So why didn't he?

Arthur huffed from under his thick scarf, feeling the heat vanish against the red material almost as soon as it appeared. He furrowed his brows somewhat at that eager look the other seemed to taunt him with before plunging his hand into his pocket and fishing out a five pound note. He leaned forwards, having to bend a little, so the 'stranger' could take his offering.

The blue-eyed man reached forwards, his fingers brushing against Arthur's own whilst he took the note. A giddy smile began to bubble amongst his lips whilst he excitedly traced his thumb and index finger over the thin piece of paper, peering rather intently at it for a while.

Soon after that brief moment of contact, the shorter of the two quickly withdrew his hand back towards his own chest, rubbing both of them together as if to warm them up. Arthur noted that the other's hands were (oddly enough) quite warm compared to his own - especially in this dreadful weather... He cleared his throat and let the familiar vibrations against the skin on his neck distract him for a moment, his gaze averted towards the store just a little ways ahead of him.

I should go... What am I doing, wasting time? Arthur took a step away from the other, sending him a curt, acknowledging nod before taking a couple more steps towards the store.

That was, however, until he felt a sharp tug pull him back to where he last stood. Instinctively turning on his heel, Arthur stared incredulously at the other blond, wanting so desperately to ask what on Earth his problem was. He couldn't. For a heartbeat, they each stood in an uncomfortable silence, just staring at each other as if they hadn't even a word to say. Arthur was close to fuming and marching off in the way he was supposed to be headed, but was unexpectedly caught off guard when the street performed released the fabric of his coat and his lips began to form words. The movement of his mouth seemed slightly off, and Arthur struggled to keep up with what he was saying - which he deemed to be quite strange considering he had nine whole years to practise and master lip reading…

Instead, the Brit arched a curious brow, staring at the man's lips the hardest he could. He could make out a few words, but it was difficult to piece them together, and so he merely linked it with the closest reason as to what the beggar could have meant. He had given him money just now, hadn't he? That must be what it was. Something like a 'thank you' of sorts.

Arthur sent him an off smile, dipped his head in gratitude, and continued to walk off.

He didn't see him on his way back.

Arthur arrived home later than he had intended that day. After his encounter with the fellow in the streets, the Brit found it more difficult to navigate his way back to his house. Not only was he exhausted by the time he got there, but pretty cold too. Apparently, wearing a few layers of clothing didn't aid him as much as he had originally hoped it would. The blond stumbled around on his front porch, trying not to tread in any seemingly deep areas of snow to avoid getting any colder than he already was.

Coming to a stop at the door, the Brit rummaged in his pockets for a key.

Where is it, where is it...?

Without looking like too much of a fool, he finally managed to find the damn thing and was quick to shove it into the door's lock, twisting the small article in the uniquely designed hole and hastily pushing it open. Once inside, he shut the door yet again and let out a loud sigh of which he himself could not hear. The heat of his home came flooding to him in a warm greeting and at no point did it ever become even somewhat overbearing. If Arthur could, he’d embrace it right then and there. Shrugging off his coat, the short blond hung it on the hanger just by his head when his fingers lost their grip of the key and - after failing to grab it mid air - had to resort to looking for it on the floor. Arthur spluttered in annoyance and reached for the shining item, however, his eyes caught sight of something else instead, and he curiously reached for a light brown envelope laying beside the metal object.

Forgetting about the key that stayed isolated in its spot on the wooden flooring, Arthur carried the envelope towards the kitchen whilst continuing to inspect it carefully on his way there. Walking into the said room, the Brit pulled out a chair, settled down, and began to slowly tear away at the paper of the enclosed letter.

Once he had it opened, Arthur slowly tipped the contents of the envelope onto the kitchen table. His eyes widened at the sight of… He reached for the stack of money, fingers flipping through each individual note. Of a little over two thousand pounds?! Clasping a hand over his mouth, the Brit hurriedly reached for the letter that had fallen on the table along with the few thousand notes.

It read:

Dear Arthur,

I’ve been saving up for over a year now… You deserve this more than I do.

Please meet Dr. Yao on Monday at 8am at your local hospital. I want this to be a surprise, so he’ll tell you all about it. Don’t you dare forget to bring that money with you.

Talk to you soon,

Scott. SK

Arthur’s head was reeling. A doctor? Why on Earth would he need to see a doctor? And what was so important that he needed to bring with him so much money? Questions were flooding his mind by the minute, and Arthur eventually realised that he felt tired and deserved some much needed rest. Oh, God, what was Scott planning…

Monday, 7:45am.

Arthur was already dressed in sub-formal attire, downing the last of his tea and internally promising himself that no, it wasn’t burning his mouth, and yes, he was running late. He should have been registered in by now, and yet here he was, an eighteen year old deaf boy, pushing the time as if he was Superman.

Grabbing his keys from the kitchen table, Arthur hurriedly pulled himself away from where he sat, almost tripping over his chair in advance and hissing a silent gasp.

Outside, a taxi waited, honking its horn every few minutes, completely oblivious to Arthur’s condition.

What seemed like an eternity later, the door to the small house’s entryway flew open and Arthur briskly made his way out, shutting it behind him. Approaching the taxi, he signed ‘sorry’ whilst holding an apologetic smile - the solemn face of the man at the wheel couldn’t seem to care any less. Entering the vehicle, the Brit handed the man a note with the location of his local hospital of which he read it over and began to drive to said place.

Arthur buckled himself in and huffed, letting his head loll to the side and gently thump against the window. He stared blankly out at his surroundings, watching tiredly as houses, leafless trees, and a few people whizzed by. Briefly, he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into... Whatever it was, Scott had worked hard for it (a few years for goodness sake!). He must have felt very strongly about this. He shouldn’t get his hopes up though; a trip to the hospital could either mean a good thing or a bad thing, there was almost never any in-between in such situations.

They drove by a store he was very familiarised with, where he noticed a figure who was poorly dressed strumming heavily at his guitar. A noise of amusement slipped past the Brit’s lips, recalling their last encounter. The driver on the other hand, rolled his eyes at the performer and promptly muttered something under his breath. For a moment, Arthur watched in silent thoughtfulness, his brows furrowing to an extent. He was tempted to ask if the taxi driver knew anything about the beggar, but alas could not. His speech was probably clumsy, and he doubted this guy knew how to sign, so where was the point in asking?

They arrived at the hospital within roughly ten minutes, meaning Arthur had only five to get registered and have his appointment. He quickly paid the taxi driver, scribbling out another note and asking for him to wait to which the man nodded, switched off the engine, and went on his phone whilst he waited. The smaller of the two double-checked that the money provided by his eldest brother was still in his pocket before leaving the safety of his car and making his way to the hospital facility.

The building was tall, many stories high in fact, but instead of wasting time feeling intimidated, the British teenager hurried indoors and towards reception.

He approached a petite woman who adjusted her glasses when he neared the desk. Her mouth began moving, and Arthur read her lips perfectly.

”Hello sir, may I have your name please?”

Right… Arthur stared blankly for a moment and motioned his name with a flustered expression, hoping she would catch on that he could, in fact, not hear.

The lady’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and she excused herself for a moment, returning later with a plump older man who gave Arthur a slight wave and signed, “What’s your name?”

Oh, an interpreter.

For the second time that day, Arthur told them his name. ‘Ar-th-ur Ki-rk-land.’

The man proceeded to tell the woman what he read and she began typing away at her computer. Arthur’s attention was back on the man who told him to “Sign this form, please”. He took the sheet of paper handed to him and wrote down all the necessary information it asked for before handing it back and watching as the woman skimmed over his writing.

The man asked, “Who will you be seeing?”

Arthur signed, ‘Dr. Y-a-o’.

The man translated to the lady once more who sent Arthur a sickly sweet smile and motioned towards the corridor. “You’re his only patient this morning, feel free to enter to him through the first door down the corridor on the right. Thank you.”

Arthur gave her a brief, appreciative nod and made his way towards where she had motioned. The corridor was mostly empty of people, but the walls were littered with vibrant posters with some consisting of facts or encouraging people to ‘use medication’. Though the place generally looked quite sterile, Arthur had read that despite the multiple health precautions (for example the amount of hand sanitizer dispensers at every door), hospitals were actually full of bacteria. Whether that was true or not wasn’t up to him to decide however, and he doubted scientists would look into it as if to give hospitals a bad reputation.

The blond brushed some hair from his face, watching as his shoes walked out in front of him. He wondered what sort of sound they made. Was it quiet? Or loud? Did they click or did they sound muffled? Arthur furrowed his brows in thought but was soon interrupted by coming face to face with the door described to him by the secretary. Glancing around for a brief moment, he finally reached for the knob, but just as he did, the door was already pulling itself open. Arthur stumbled back in surprise, but when the door continued to open wider and reveal a man in uniform, the smaller blond found his face flushing with embarrassment. For a moment he thought the damn place was cursed.

Raising a hand, he waved a greeting and Dr. Yao (thank goodness) gestured for him to come inside. Arthur slowly entered, taking a moment to look around. There were all sorts of gadgets organised around the room, ranging from big to tiny ones, and an uncomfortable looking - seemingly adjustable - bed lying against the wall. Arthur took a seat at it and fixed his gaze on the Asian who shut the door behind him and sat at a chair in front.

The doctor pointed towards his lips and began to mouth words slowly. Arthur caught on within seconds.

“I’ll speak slowly so you can read my lips.”

Arthur nodded.

“Latest technology allows us to do something very special,” he explained, brown eyes boring into forest greens.

“Do you want to be able to hear again?”

Arthur stared, frozen to the spot. What Dr. Yao said wasn’t something someone could say so easily. Arthur had gone through a lot of trouble being unable to hear, and all of a sudden he asked such a blunt, emotional question? He frowned, getting to his feet and signing, ‘What is this?’

The doctor stood with him, stepping forward and motioning back towards the bed. “Sit down, Arthur, let me explain.”

Arthur shook his head hastily; he wouldn’t allow himself to get mocked by such a man. He probably had all the privileges one could ever wish for - and yet Arthur had been deprived of a good job just for something so little that he had been stuck with for nine years. His actions were sharp. ‘Tell me to sit down one more time-’

The doctor started to look distressed. “Please, I know it’s a lot to take in. Look, your brother went through so much to allow you to do this.”

Arthur’s expression softened to an extent.

“Do it for your family, yes?”

Family. Family… He wondered what they were doing now, whether they actually still thought about him anymore. Scott did, sure, but maybe he did all this to get Arthur off his mind and to move on. The Brit glanced down sheepishly. He didn’t have any reason to do this. He was strong as he was, and was getting along just fine, but what about all the little things? It was true, he wanted to hear his brothers’ voices now that they’d grown. He wanted to hear his own footsteps. He wanted to hear the soft breeze on a beautiful day. He wanted to hear birds singing. He wanted to hear his breathing before he slept. He wanted to hear music.

Music…

Arthur cautiously made his way back to the bed. ‘Go on,’ he signed.

Dr. Yao smiled warmly, this time taking a seat beside his patient. He placed a hand on the Brit’s shoulder. “We can do this together. We’ll bring back your hearing- wouldn’t you like that? We’ll restore it as much as we can. You’ll be one of the first people to try this out, Kirkland. What do you say?”

With a bit more of that reassuring smile and the comforting hand on his shoulder, Arthur found his head moving, nodding. He waited for a moment and slowly signed, ‘I want to hear again.’

He hadn’t expected to say that, not now, not ever, and yet here he was.

‘I want to hear again,’ he repeated, tears welling up in his eyes.

The day had come for Arthur’s surgery. Dr. Yao had repeatedly explained to him how the procedure worked and what part of the ear they would be focusing on. He mentioned that there was a low chance of something going wrong, however if something within the operation did occur, then to not worry as he would get refunded for the amount he paid to get this treatment done and they would look into the issue and possibly try again.

Arthur breathed in and out in a chaste, nervous manner. His whole body was wracking with nerves and he had no idea how to feel about the whole ordeal. On one hand, he’d regain his hearing, whereas on the other he felt anxious about doing just that. He hadn’t been able to hear for nine years. Nine years. What if his body couldn’t take it? What if he embarrassed himself bursting out into tears in front of the whole team who would work so hard on giving him something he had once thought to have permanently lost?

The door to the hospital room was gently pushed open and Arthur rose his gaze a little less steadily than he had hoped for to meet with the man who entered.

Dr. Yao smiled, a glint in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

Arthur made a noise of unease and buried his face into his hands, shaking his head violently, but a simple tap on his arm was enough to coax him out of bed and soon enough out the door.

He was going to fucking hear again and there was no turning back.

Thursday.

It was cold outside, and the streets were even more empty than they had been days prior to this. Each day was getting colder, however… And each day it was harder to hold on, harder to keep on going. Pedestrians had become a thing of the past now, rarely ever seen. Each day, he’d awake thinking ‘I wonder how much longer until I die’ rather than ‘I wonder how much longer until Christmas’. He didn’t even know if it had passed yet, or how long it would be until it did. Regarding either option, would he be alive to ever know?

His fingers were like ice, and his once tan complexion was almost as pale as snow. It became harder and harder every time to play guitar and set a performance… He’d stop thinking about what chords came next and instead how hungry he felt, how cold he was, and dear God, how lonely, too. He supposed that’s why most people would ignore him; because he kept messing up the song?

He shuddered, a cold shiver running along his spine. He wondered how many doors he’d have to knock on asking for help until he dropped down dead. Not many, perhaps. He was already halfway gone, or at least, it felt like it.

The blond slowly picked up his instrument, pulled it to his chest, and let his fingers run free. They strummed and plucked, and with each vibration that ran along his fingers, he sang a part of a song he’d made up over the years.

He didn’t know how it sounded to be honest, but hopefully it was good.

Hopefully…

A figure in the distance was emerging through the fog and he promptly shifted his empty hat forwards as if to put it on show so the other knew what to do if or when they saw it. He internally wished they had a kind enough heart to spare some change.

When they neared closer, the performer could make out their features, and he felt a heavy weight lift off his chest. He ceased his song and expectantly held out his hand, grin widening.

Arthur stood in silence, listening. It had been two days since his successful surgery and with the help of some hearing aids to enhance his hearing, he had managed to restore quite a bit of it. It was a surreal experience, and it still was. In fact, this was his first trip outside after getting such a thing done! He was even getting language classes too to help him get back on track with proper speech. But this... This was all he had never hoped for.

It was heartbreaking to see a man suffering with the same problem he had carelessly spent over two thousand on, lying in the streets near Christmas time, near death... This performer needed what he had most, and yet he still selfishly spent it on himself. Arthur shook his head slowly, a saddened smile on his face. This beggar was deaf. His singing and guitar wasn’t exactly on point, which explained his lack of money. So did his slurred movement of his mouth the first time they had spoken. He was throwing out every sign he could think of, and yet Arthur stayed oblivious, too engrossed in his own ‘problems’.

The shorter blond carefully dropped to his knees and shuffled towards the other. He signed to him, ‘What’s your name?’

The beggar signed back, a little hesitantly, ‘Al-fr-ed’.

Rummaging in his pockets for a moment, the Brit pulled out some earphones and plugged them each into Alfred’s ears, his fingers gentle and warm against the taller man’s face. ‘Listen,’ he signed.

Alfred’s expression was a clear display of confusion. Arthur didn’t blame him. Since when did the deaf use earphones? He himself would have found it ridiculous.

The shorter of the two took the end of the cord and wrapped it around the man’s finger before pulling his hand over to lay on his chest. The steady thrumming of his heart could be felt through the American’s fingertips and they both knew it.

Alfred’s eyes were gradually growing wet with tears, possibly on the verge of a breakdown, but Arthur was there, and Arthur always would be.

Because sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.

And sometimes, music wasn't enough to express the true meaning of love.

[anguianobrodan90]

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Save Marriage Couple Walkthrough Zelda

By understanding the choices and preferences of your actions, and make the concept of changing his/her actions or to argue with each other will take forgiving each other, supporting each other, but do it yourself attitude, strong determination and dedication to do anything else which both of you say hurtful things repeatedly or do you lock them into practice in copying the love you feel that you aren't even sure why you love them all the marriage works.There are many viable solutions out there it's almost impossible to really work, you will whole heartedly embrace them.With that in a divorce statistic, here are 5 ways to save it.If you happen to you the bond between the couple might not be easy, but it is possible to begin anew when your spouse is sharing, but also the fact that you are saving one of the most liberating actions you can do great damage to your spouse had been taught all along that the issue has come under fire at times make errors.Throw all responsibility to stay together.

Death of a relationship is wanting to save your marriage in the divorce and you are searching for it and be back by your spouse out for a solution on how to handle the disagreements in the real problem?This is as good as we would normally keep bottled up.But even so, you should have moral, structural, and personal reasons for this reason.If you would probably take it out and understand how to stop those difficult feelings.I'm assuming if you're married, your marriage from divorce, but create a positive manner.

[firstdayofschoolessay428]

samedayessay

About me

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[bubble-tea-bunny]

opus

[t’challa udaku x reader]

author’s note: y’all. it took me six attempts to write this. i was so unsatisfied with what i wrote every single time, and even this one i think isn’t up to the standard i’ve been trying to achieve lately, but i guess i’ve just been too tired to concentrate. hope you enjoy this though. maybe writing this fic rather than just giving up on it will help me get back my flow hahaha

word count: 1,890

You’d shown up in Wakanda battered and broken. You’d come to him desperate. For help, for training. Unbridled power nestled itself deep in your being and you’d presented an incredible danger back home. Upon your own choosing you’d come halfway across the world to a people you knew were capable of taming the beast that day by day tore painfully at your insides, and one you could only hold back with the slightest ounce of success, leaving you exhausted and bitter about the fact that unlike those around you, you couldn’t reign in the ability which you’d been born with and now want more than anything to go away.

T’Challa notes with ease that weariness in your gaze, the stress that permeates your veins, so much so that your shoulders sag despite doing your best to stand straight and at attention in the presence of a king. But he doesn’t fault you for it. He understands your frustration and he sees well enough in your eyes the burn of determination to do what you must to gain control of your power. You wouldn’t have come so far without being fully willing to do what they set out for you, after all.

The advisors had been against allowing you here, for they’re wary of outsiders, always have been, but T’Challa doesn’t listen. Though this is the first time any of them have met you, already he knows you on a deeper level than they. You both have abilities beyond the reaches of normal man and they are things which take much discipline and training to control. Even T’Challa finds himself learning still. So he sympathizes with your plight, and he offers you a place among their ranks, a refuge where you can learn.

You tell him there are records available on you. It only makes sense that tabs are kept on your kind, to ensure the safety of the regular, everyday citizens. The government couldn’t have the supers just running around as they pleased. T’Challa looks up those records later that night to familiarize himself with the more formal aspects of your identity and abilities. He’s not quite sure what to make of the level ten threat listed at the bottom of your dossier.

———

When he’s able, T’Challa observes your sessions. The trainers don’t go easy on you, but you expect that. You’re not foolish enough to think it’d be any different. You don’t falter in the midst of what they throw your way, what they challenge you to do. Most of it entails the goal of building rounded discipline, since control of all your faculties will help you better focus your powers. When it comes time to deal specifically with those abilities of yours, T’challa becomes more involved.

He does his best to quell the worries you have in the beginning stages of training. He empathizes with you on a level deeper than the others and you understand that just as well as he does, so at his words, soft and encouraging as they are, you relax. That’s a sign of progress all on its own, and T’Challa can’t help the smile that makes its way to his lips. It’s like taming a lion, he realizes. There’s a need to be slow and cautious yet understanding of the risks associated with the task. The hope within him for seeing your growth as the days go by glows brightly, and he wonders if you can see it, in his heart, in his eyes.

———

The flowers are in full bloom this time of the year. It makes walking through the courtyard garden a breathtaking experience. Most of the time it remains empty, however, because everyone in the palace is so busy. And when evening falls, most are too tired to entertain the thought of being out there when they could be asleep. for a long while it had only been T’Challa sacrificing sleep to come out here, to calm his mind and forget for a moment that the weight of a kingdom rests on his shoulders. Strong as he may be, he is not invincible. He is still a man.

But tonight when he goes there, he is not alone. You’re sitting on a stone bench by the fountain, and as he approaches you, the quiet gurgling of the water reaches his ears.

“May I?” he inquires, motioning to the spot next to you.

You smile and nod. “of course.”

He sits, feels the cool stone and the cool air. “Enjoying the flowers?”

“Just enjoying,” you respond quietly. “There’s much more out here to take in than just the flowers.”

T’Challa knows exactly what you mean. This kind of silence is hard to come by. The whole of Wakanda seems to be in slumber. Just how still the world can become at his hour never ceases to amaze him. The stars above are brilliant and as he looks up at them he can immediately spot a few constellations he’d been taught when he was just a young boy, a prince with his whole life ahead of him. One could almost swear that when the sun sets, they’ve entered a whole new dimension entirely, where time stops, giving the both of you a chance to just breathe. For it’s hard to be afforded something as simple as that in the day, when he is a king and when you are a woman learning more about the extent of your power and about the limits to which you are able to be pushed.

But right now you are [Name] and he is T’Challa and there is nothing else. You wish you could stay here forever.

———

T’Challa doesn’t really recall the exact moment you’d come to fully control your abilities. There hadn’t been a single defining moment to mark the occasion, it had just… become apparent to him one day. You were far from the person you’d been when you first came to him in search of a solution. The time from then until now had been a blur. One day you were there and then the next you were here. The practiced precision makes you formidable. You’d earned the respect of those around you, who’d watched you build yourself up from basically nothing.

Lingering in the air is the subject of you returning back home, to join the rest of your team, take up your rank among them. You don’t bring it up so T’Challa doesn’t either because if he’s being honest he’d much rather you stay, and he hopes you feel the same way too. You’re the addition he never knew he needed. You’d begun to fight alongside him and his warriors as a way to pay back for your time spent here. And you’ve been a loyal companion, a good friend.

The air is much colder now and the flowers have hidden themselves away. Yet the two of you still find yourselves in the garden, for these moments are a treasure you will not so easily squander. T’Challa is used to this shift in the weather, so he doesn’t have a problem. When he looks at you, you seem to be handling yourself just fine. He supposes it’s that fire which burns steady in you that keeps you warm.

You meet his gaze and hold it wordlessly. Many a night like this had transpired in silence, for no words were necessary between like souls. But tonight T’Challa breaks this routine.

“Have you given any thought to returning home?”

You shrug. “A little. Have I started to annoy you?” you tease, corner of your lips upturned in a playful smirk.

T’Challa chuckles. “Of course not.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“You’re welcome here for as long as you please.”

“No, I mean, do you want me to stay, T’Challa?”

He doesn’t answer right away, because encompassed in his potential response is many different implications, some of which he’d considered but never fully came to terms with and to decide upon them now is overwhelming. The way you look at him is gentle and patient, as it has always been, and it is the way he’s always looked at you, but suddenly this once familiar gaze you cast upon him feels foreign and he is nervous and in all his time as king, this is probably the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do.

His position dictates he be selfless. He puts his kingdom before himself, the needs of his people and their safety always at the front of his mind. What’s best for them. What’s best for you. You’d come here to train, and your training is complete. The logical next step would be to go home, where your team is. Because they need you. But as T’Challa sits here now, next to you at such a late hour, so deep in the night as it is that it’s like being in a different world, he admits that he needs you too. But you can’t be in two places at once. And he understands that, and at the end of the day, it is others before him, and letting you go, as much as he doesn’t want to, is the right course of action.

Despite this line of reasoning, he nods his head in response to your question, responds with a curt “yes.”  It’s dark so it could just be his eyes deceiving him, but he swears you look so happy, and that alone keeps him from contemplating too hard about why he’d thought one thing then done the complete opposite, without meaning to.

When he cradles your jaw, your skin almost feels warm in spite of the cold. And he smiles because at his touch, you relax, and he knows then that with him is where you feel safest. Not just in Wakanda, or in the palace, but with him. As T’Challa, and not as a king or the Black Panther. And it speaks volumes because no one knows him as deeply as this, but then you’d come along and changed that and he realizes the universe works in strange ways because his kindred spirit had been halfway across the globe yet you’d still managed to end up here.

Your lips against his are as soft as the way you look at him. admitting he’d wanted you to stay had felt selfish on his part, but it is apparent now that you don’t want to leave and so that guilt dissipates. His heart is gladdened and makes such a thing known by squeezing tightly in his chest but it is a good ache and all T’Challa can think of now is just how much he loves you. You’re the flower that’s bloomed in the depths of winter and he is captivated by your mind and will and soul. There’s a flurry swirling behind your [eye color] eyes and while he can’t read your thoughts, he can read the expression on your face, and it is content and overjoyed. All feels right as you take in each other’s presence and T’Challa wants nothing more than for this moment to be frozen for all eternity because it’s so perfect it doesn’t feel real. He never wants to let you go. In a hushed whisper you tell him you don’t want him to let you go either. And he won’t. He swears it.

[prettywitchiusaka]

Royai Fic: Almost Got Her

Hey guys.

I know I haven’t been active on here for a few days (aside from reflagging stuff), but that’s what ebbing sick will do to you, I guess.

I’ll catch up in the next few days on what’s been going n in my life, but for now I figured I’d post my new Royai fic! 

Just a little fun fic I’ve been hacking away at since last Christmas, and I finally decided to finish it!

Enjoy Roy being a smooth mother fucker, and Riza playing hard to get!

Almost Got Her

by Prettywitchiusaka

Roy Mustang just couldn't help it. All afternoon, he’d been doing his best to complete his paperwork, knowing full well today’s stack was due at 5:30 sharp. But no matter how hard he tried, his kept finding his obsidian coloured eyes being drawn to his First Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye.

She too was sitting at her desk. But unlike her Colonel she was hunched over slightly, signing away at her own stack of paperwork.

But that wasn’t unusual, he reminded himself. She was always more diligent when it came to doing paperwork than he was. No, what had peaked his curiosity was that every now and then, she would strain her neck off to the side, like she was trying to snap it, or something.

“Why does she keep doing that?” he thought to himself.

"Something bothering you, Sir?" she asked.

Hearing that, Roy let out a gasp. How did she always know?

Still, he couldn’t deny that he she’d caught him with his pants down, figuratively speaking. So, he gave her his trademark smirk and said "I should be asking you that question, Lieutenant. You've been stretching your neck all day."

Out of the corner of her eye, the Lieutenant stared at her Colonel, noting that despite the smirk on his face, his eyes had a look of concern to them, concern for her.

Well, she couldn’t deny him an answer, now. So, she opened her mouth to speak, never once stopping to take an eye off her paperwork. “Well, if you must know, I strained it and my shoulders during yesterday's mission."

Hearing that, Roy placed a hand on his chin and began racking his brain. 

“When did she strain herself, yesterday?” he thought to himself.

Yesterday morning, he’d received a call from Furhur Bradley in Central, asking him to inspect a nearby mining town just outside East City called Rhodonite. Rumour had it that a group of alchemists living there had been turning led into gold, something that was punishable by law in Amestris, and selling the bricks to the highest bidder.

Well, Roy Mustang was never one to take no for an answer. High ranking officer or no, he was still a State Alchemist, someone who answered directly to the Furher, himself. And being the only State Alchemist within traveling distance of the town, it only made sense he’d be asked to investigate these rumours.

Though, if Roy was being honest with himself, he would’ve probably would’ve looked into this case whether he’d been asked by the higher ups at Central or not.

He may have been known as the Flame Alchemist, famous for his ability to torch his enemies into oblivion with a snap of his fingers, but the truth of the matter was that Roy was just an ambitious man. He was always looking for the newest assignment to help him climb up the military ranks so that one day, he could achieve his dream of leading Amestris and changing things for the better.

And besides, it sounded easy enough. Go down there and see if a couple of alchemists were breaking the law, and arrest them if they were. How could he pass that up? So after asking Riza to book a train and dig up the case file, they informed their little team of what was going on and told them they were heading out immediately.

A few hours later, they arrived in Rhodonite to a rather cold reception from the locals. Not that they were expecting a warm welcome, really. Anti-military sentiment was strong in a lot of towns surrounding East City, and this place was no exception.

So instead of wasting time sight seeing, the Colonel and his team made their way towards the mine. There, they were greeted by the head of the mining operation; a cocky young man named Roger. With the help of his team, Roger gave Roy and his men a tour of the mine for the next hour.

Nothing appeared to be out of place, but with the exception of Master Sergeant Kain Feury, the rest of his team wasn’t so sure. It all seemed too rehearsed, they told him. So, Roy ordered his team to take a three or four hour nap at the hotel after dinner, much to their dismay.

Of course, they all understood why, because at around one in the morning they went exploring inside the mine, splitting into two groups to cover more ground. As it turns out the rumours had been true; Roger and his men were, in fact, turning the led inside the mine into gold. Of course, that meant they were also armed and dangerous. Something the Colonel wished the report had bothered to mention, otherwise he and his two Second Lieutenants, Jean Havoc and Haymans Breda probably wouldn’t have been captured as easily as they’d been.

Still, being captives wasn’t so bad.

For one, it hadn’t taken Riza long to come save their sorry hides. And while she and Warrant Officer Vato Falman were engaging the alchemists in a gun fight, Sergeant Feury snuck in and untied them. He even came bearing gifts; spare guns for Havoc and Breda, and a spare set of ignition gloves for the Colonel. Now that they had the upper hand, Roy remembered the battle going pretty quickly. In no time at all, his team had managed to round up Roger’s little entourage and arrest them, leaving him the task of arresting Roger at “gun point”, so to speak.

Unfortunately for him, not only was Roger arrogant, he was also petty. Using a transmutation circle hidden in his back pocket, he destroyed the ground beneath him and grabbed ahold of the Flame Alchemist, intent on taking him with him.

But just before he could go over the cliff to his doom, Riza leapt into action and saved her commanding officer, taking hold of his hand and pulling him up with all the strength she could muster.

“All her strength…,” Roy felt his eyes widen at that revelation.

Yes, Riza had more body strength than the average woman, being a soldier and all. But not enough to pull up her male colleague all by herself. He was the reason her neck and shoulders were sore.

"Oh, right…" he said. Scratching the back of his head, the Colonel darted his eyes away from his Lieutenant. All the while mouthing the word “wow” to himself.

In the thirty years he’d been on this planet, he never felt more stupid than he did, right now. How did he not realize she was in pain because of him sooner? Probably from the lack of sleep the night before, he figured. As if that were an excuse for his ignorance. He looked back over at his subordinate, opening his mouth to-

"You want to apologize, don't you?"

Roy let a small gasp escape his mouth at that sentence, though it was quickly replaced with a smile. Even after years of knowing each other, it still amazed him how she could read him without even having to look up from her paperwork.

"How did you know?"

"You went silent for a moment," she answered.

"Good eye," he thought with a smirk. Her observant nature never ceased to amaze him. “If it helps, I am sorry to hear you're in pain."

“I know, Sir. But you don't have to apologize. I'm only doing my job."

Hearing that, Roy let out a groan. She had said the exact same thing after pulling him back up the cliff yesterday. …………………………………………… Roy stood tall against the wounded leader of the alchemists, his fingers poised to snap at any time if he made one wrong move.

“Come on, Roger” he said. “I think even you should’ve figured out by now that you’ve lost. Now why don’t you be a good boy and admit defeat?”

Roger smirked at that. “Why don’t you just kill me? That’s all you dogs are good for, isn’t it?”

The Colonel let out a chuckle. “Now why would I do that?” he asked. “That little line that’ll say “arrested Roger Myers” will look so much nicer on my military record, don’t you think?”

Hearing that made Roger’s smirk widen. “Then you won’t mind if I take you with me, dog!?”

Before Roy could even react to that, Roger had taken him by the ankle and whipped out an earth based transmutation circle on a crumpled up piece of paper. Just as quickly, he placed his hand on the paper, activating it.

Next thing Roy knew, the ground he was standing on began caving in until there was nothing solid left for him to stand on. Realizing what that bastard had just done, the Flame Alchemist screamed as he fell through the air. It was all over for him.

Or was it?

Everything had been happening so fast for Roy, he hadn’t even realized there was firm grip around his right wrist. Opening his eyes, he saw Riza holding him by the wrist. He could see she was wincing, too. Not that he was too surprised; he wasn’t exactly very light.

Not that that seemed to be stopping her, he realized. She even held out her hand to him.“Colonel!” she said. “Grab my hand!”

Not wasting any time, Roy took her hand while she began the difficult task of pulling him up from going over the gorge. Luckily, Havoc was on hand to help.

Squatting onto his knees, he grabbed her by the waist and yelled “Okay, guys! Start pulling!”

Slowly, but surely, Roy felt himself being pulled up to safety until, eventually he found himself on solid ground, again. Now knowing he was out of danger, the Flame Alchemist breathed a sigh of relief. He might not have been able to stop Roger from taking himself out, but at least he was still alive thanks to the efforts of his team.

Now that things had settled down a bit, Roy sat himself down on the ground and closed his eyes, wanting to rest for a minute or two. Not that anyone could blame him, he felt; he literally just escaped certain death, after all. "Are you alright, Colonel?" he heard Riza ask him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied.

Turning around, Roy saw the concern in her amber eyes. It made him smile; she always looked so beautiful when she acted like the caring person he knew she was. "Thanks, Hawkeye."

Her eyes widened a bit at his words, she even let out a small gasp.

Too bad it was quickly followed with a familiar response. "Don't mention it, Sir. I'm only doing my job." …………………………………………………... Roy couldn't help but frown at the memory.

It always bothered him that every time he’d give her even the tiniest bit of praise, she would remain completely stoic and force herself not to smile.

“Why!? Damnit!” he would wonder. He could’t understand.

Well, okay, he sort of understood. She probably thought being in a relationship would end up distracting him from his real goal. Fair enough.

Dating his secretary could lead to all sorts of problems. She might become a target, or it could lead to an awkward break up that would ruin their friendship, but also their relationship as superior and subordinate. He could respect that.

And yet, there were those times he’d catch her stealing a glance at him from her desk, or the faintest traces of blush on her cheeks when he’d compliment her on a job well done. And then were those times where she’d smile whenever she caught him doing something nice for someone else.

Clearly, his Lieutenant has feelings for him. That, Roy was certain of, by now. So why not act on it, the more rebellious part of him wondered?

Maybe it was to keep him focused on his goal, knowing Riza. Though Roy couldn’t help but wonder if there was a part of her that feared rejection. That such a confession would ruin their friendship and working relations in general if he didn’t feel the same way.

Because if that was the case, then she had nothing to worry about, Roy thought. As far as he was concerned, Riza Hawkeye was a caring, wonderful woman; he'd thought that for a long time now.

If only he could do something to show his appreciation for all she did for him, though he doubted she’d let him take her to a fancy restaurant without suspecting something. “So what can I do?” he would often wonder.

A box of chocolates? One of those stupid romance novels she enjoys reading? Or maybe…

“Yes, maybe that will suffice…,” he thought to himself as a smile crept onto his face. One way, or another, a plan was forming in Roy’s mind.

"You know, I never did thank you for yesterday.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t he already thank me yesterday?” she thought to herself.  Whatever; he probably forgot. “You don't have to," she remarked. "I know you're thankful."

With a smile, the Colonel got up from his desk and walked over to her. "Yeah, but I'd love to show you my appreciation."

Riza couldn't help but smirk at that. "I doubt you could find-"

Before the Lieutenant could even finish that sentence, she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, massaging them.

Turning her head, she came to see the smiling, confident face of her Colonel, gently kneading his hands into her shoulders and looking quite pleased with himself. Honestly, Riza was so flabbergasted by what was going on, she didn't know whether she should say something or stop this all together. Turning her gaze to meet his, the Lieutenant did the only thing she could think to do. "Sir?…What are you doing?"

"Massaging your shoulders…," he replied while flashing her a smile. "There a problem?"

The Lieutenant turned her gaze away from his, trying her best to hide the blush that was quickly forming on her cheeks. "No, Sir…I'm just not sure what it would say if you were caught-"

She moaned in delight as he hit a particularly sore spot right in the middle of her shoulder, making her completely forget whatever it was she’d been talking about a moment ago. Noticing this, Roy couldn't help but smile impishly.

"Any other sore spots you'd like me to catch, Lieutenant?"

His tone was playful, if not slightly seductive. Not that Riza really cared, right now. Her mind was trapped in a peaceful abyss, enjoying the sensation of her muscles unclenching from her superior’s touch.

Not wanting this to end, she pointed to the base of her neck and said “Right there.”

With a smile on his face, Roy moved his thumb up to the top of her neck and began kneading the sore spot, making her moan once again.

The Flame Alchemist found himself smiling as he continued easing her tension; it felt good to know she was happy.

But from where he was standing, he could see she was smiling. Maybe she looked a bit too happy for someone receiving a massage from their superior officer, but considering the pain she was in, no one would probably blame her.

Still, now that he’d seen that? Well, Roy just couldn’t help himself. He felt his grin widening on his face as he made his decision; it was now or never.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Hmm?" she asked.

"I said you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

"Are you kidding?” she asked. “I haven't had a massage in awhile, it feels nice."

“Right,” he said with a smile. “And I’m sure me touching you probably has something to do with it?”

“Yes…,” she answered.

Riza felt herself snapping out of her dazed state, her eyes widening; did she just admit to enjoying her superior touching her out loud?

That was bad enough, but how did he feel about all this? Probably just as shocked as her, she figured. Without a second, she turned to face her Colonel, ready to apologize, if necessary. But when she actually did come face to face with him, she came to see that he was smirking. It was that sweet, charming smirk he often wore, but it was still a smirk.

And seeing that made the Lieutenant groan as she realized what Roy had done; he’d tricked her into giving him the information he wanted, and she stupidly took the bait hook, line and sinker.

Fortunately, Riza knew when to keep her emotions in check. So she took a deep breath and began staring at the wall; the more she could avoid his gaze, the better.

“Whatever do you mean?”

"Come on. You think I haven't noticed?…” he asked. All while sinking his fingers deeper into her increasingly relaxing shoulders. “I’ve seen the way you look at me…” Despite her best efforts to remain stoic, the Lieutenant let out a small gasp at that. “How did he know?” she asked herself.

“How you get jealous whenever I talk about the women I take out."

Riza pouted and let out a growl. “Why did he have to bring that up?” she thought. “Well maybe if you dated women who would stimulate you intellectually."

Unbeknownst to her, Roy was smirking. “That might be a problem, though…,” he said. “You're the only woman I enjoy having an actual conversation with…”

By now, Riza could feel her cheeks burning as she realized what was happening; he was flirting with her. No, not just flirting with her, he was hitting on her. And if the Lieutenant was being completely honest with herself, she was enjoying every minute of it.

So how come the soldier in her kept telling her this was wrong?

"I think you've carried this joke on, long enough, Colonel."

"I'm serious, Hawkeye…,” Roy said. “I’ve thought about it, before, you know?”

“Thought about what?”

“What it would be like to be with you, of course,” he replied.

Hearing that, Riza felt her eyes widen and her cheeks become warm. Did he just say what she thought he just said?

“I’d love to take you on a proper date; have a nice dinner, go dancing, kiss you under the stars, maybe even make love to you…And I kind of get the feeling you've thought about it, too…"

It was this moment more than any other that Riza was thankful he wasn’t looking to see what her expression was, because she was blushing like crazy over what he was saying.

Of course she’d thought about being with him that way. How could she not? As far as she was concerned, Roy Mustang was wonderful.

He wasn’t perfect by any stretch; he was brash, arrogant, and an instigator. He could be selfish, reckless, even childish at times. But whenever he’d put down the mask and show her the heart that he hid so well, whenever he took charge of the situation and acted like the man she knew he was, those were the times she would admit to herself how much she loved him.

And no matter how well she’d locked away her feelings for her superior, there were still nights where she would dream of being his woman. Of being married to or making love to him. But hell would freeze over before she’d ever admit that to anyone, much less her Colonel of all people.

Sure, there were no fraternization laws in place, but how bad would things be for Roy if he lost her? Or if things didn’t work out between them? Or if the higher ups thought even less of him than they already did for openly dating his secretary?

Pretty bad. At least in her mind it would be.

There was just no way Riza could ever do that, at least not now. The last thing she would ever want would be to ruin his chances of becoming Furher.

So with a deep sigh, the Lieutenant sat herself up straight and opened her mouth to speak. “Colonel-"

"What? You're going to tell me I'm wrong?” he asked. “You can't tell me it's never crossed your mind."

"I never said that..."

Hearing that made Roy smile. “So you have thought about it?” he said. Stopping his firm menstruations, he kept his hands firmly on her shoulders and said “You should…” With a confident swagger in his step, the Flame Alchemist walked over to the front of the desk and turned to face his subordinate, confusing her.

"What are you trying to say?"

Roy couldn't help but smile as he sat down at her desk and let his eyes meet with her confused looking amber ones. Before she could even say another word, he cupped her chin with his fingers and tilted her head up to meet his gaze head on, making her gasp.

Normally, Riza would have pulled out her gun and threatened him to return to work, as she often did whenever he’d ignore his responsibilities around the office. But what caught her off guard were those obsidian eyes of his; they weren't lustful or cocky looking, like whenever he flirted with some random women. Instead, the look in them was sincere and loving; the way he would often look at her when they were alone.

"I'm saying I'm attracted to you, Riza…I have been for a long time, now…"

Riza could feel herself blushing at the sincerity in his words; he meant every word he said. And the more she realized the truth in statement, the deeper she let herself fall into those eyes of his. So much so, she didn't know whether she should smack him and tell him to do his paperwork, or give into her own desires and let him kiss her silly. Although deep down she knew she was starting to prefer the latter option.

At the same time, though, the soldier in her still had enough reason to give the raven haired man before her a reply. "Sir…I don't think we should be discussing this, right now."

"You're right,” he said. “Maybe when we're done work, we can discuss this over dinner, just the two of us? What do you say?"

Riza, having fallen completely under his spell at this point, gave him a warm smile and said "I'd like that…"

Roy returned her smile with one of his own, and before long he closed his eyes, moving closer towards her lips until they were only inches away from each other.

But before he could actually connect a kiss, he felt a pair of fingers on his lips. Confused, Roy opened his eyes to see a stoic looking Riza, holding his lips back with her fingers. "But I'm afraid you still have some paperwork to do. And I need to file this report."

Without missing a beat, she got up from her desk and made her way out of the office, taking the closed file with her.

As for Roy? He was left to stand there like a dear in the headlights, processing what just happened before finally letting out a sigh. Despite what he thought, she had rejected his advancements, whole sale. Leaving him to quietly return to his desk in defeat.

Well that is until he remembered something; she’d been smiling the whole time. And that’s when the Colonel made a realization; despite choosing to stay in their little comfort zone, she was actually happy he asked her out.

The message was clear now; she wanted to be with him, he would just have to wait.

So little by little, Roy's frown turned into a small, confident smile. “Whatever,” he said to himself. “I’ve almost got her.”

Just because he would wait for her didn’t mean he couldn’t savour the small victory he had today.                                                    The End

[furederiko]

Azald is singing to the tune of "True to Your Heart" now... and apparently, so does Yamato! Only on the 45th episode of Zyuohger. And yes, just three episodes left, everyone...

NOTE: A quick reminder, starting last week, I've changed the format of my weekly recap-view. So don't be alarmed if you found this one to be less detailed as well. That's just how it works now... :)

- Very early on in the episode, our Gorilla Zyuman Larry's warning immediately comes into play. Zyuoh Bird loses his strength as soon as he performs his grandiose-looking (and still personal favorite) "Glide Feather Slash" to the Moebas. Making him an easy target for Azald now. - Following Tusk's guide, Mario cooks a specialty dish called "Jungle Rice" for the Zyuman. All because he's curious and wants to learn about the Zyuland culture, fulfulling his new role as Zyuoh Human. This is nothing but another aggravating reason why the show should've let Mario in with the secret much MUCH earlier. It would have been more fun to see him learning the ways of the Zyuland, while the Zyumans are doing the same to Earth's. IMHO, THAT could've been a great approach the show could and should've capitalized very early on. The assimiliation of different cultures from different worlds is a massive potential of exploration on its own. The fact that they are saving it 45 episodes later only succeeds in making me scratch my head. - As if continues to remind us that the finale is near, Lucky / ShishiRed of the upcoming "Uchu Sentai Kyuranger" has been officially shown in the opening. After all, the Versus Movie has already premiered last Saturday, so technically it's no longer a spoiler (at least to those who have seen that movie). Gaaawd, that design looks nice, doesn't it? Especially the 'starry-sky' visor area. The same sequence also hints that Bard appears in the movie. Depending on when this movie takes place (before this episode, or after the series ends), this fact can be considered spoiler. Then again, it's more likely that the event on the movie takes place during the year end-New Year break though, which explains why Misao had those promotional... er, I mean pairing cards last week. - Wow, Azald has the ability to enter Zyuoh King Octopus' not-really-that-crowded cockpit area. Likely due to the Zyuoh Cubes that are trapped inside his body. Similar to Kubar, Azald suddenly gets an increase in ability, which means his time in the show shouldn't be long now. There are only 3 episodes left anyways. LOL. - I was quite curious to know how that piece of blue cube from Azald's body would be explained, and turns out that's where Larry comes to play! Obviously he's the smart elder type who does scientific analysis and research, so it doesn't take long for him to connect the dots and pieces the puzzle together. He deduces that Misao's Zyuoh the World gadgets were created from the same substance! I've completely forgotten that it's an unsolved mystery until now. This means things are all coming together. Hmmm... you know what? Similar to Mario, I think Larry is another character who should've been incorporated more in the show. Imagine what kind of contributions he could provide if he's working as the team's official support! By the way, Misao's fishing chair has a "Nice Day Good Fishing" written on it. Japan and their Engrish never ceases to please me. LOL. - I love surprises. Nope, let me correct that. I love PLEASANT surprises. Especially when it comes to storytelling. Eventhough Zyuohger has managed to give me minor ones several times, it is so unfortunate that Super Sentai is a franchise known to reveal too much too soon, making things almost seems too predictable. A good example of this? The next episode's preview practically spoils the fact that Bard and Yamato's estranged father are familiar with each other. If I'm guessing correctly, rescuing Bard must've been the reason why Mr. Kazakiri arrived late to see his wife on her death bed. The exact fact that made Yamato resented his father so much. That might also be the main reason why Bard is somehow compelled (and perhaps, obligated) to protect Yamato at all cost. Acting as some kind of surrogate-father, considering he's partially responsible for the whole father-son rift. That's my theory for now, let's see next week whether it is sound or not... - Speak of the devil (in red), it's very fitting that Amu's the one who confronts Yamato about his father. After all, she was the one who immediatelly noticed the tension between Yamato and Dr. Kazakiri at the hospital (episode 42). Proven over and over again as the most observant Zyumans of the team, we also need to remember that Amu is the closest one to Yamato in terms of personal feelings. This goes way back from episode 3! Of course, it does feel a little awkward that Amu has risen to be the more mature character than Yamato, especially when it's so late in the game. I guess that's the result of keeping Yamato 'vanilla' too long. Amu calmly reminds Yamato that he and his father 'sound alike' in terms of personalities. Like father, like son. Not to mention, she's able to blatantly give an inspiring advice by relating to her own situation. Feel free to argue, but Amu is definitely the best-written character in this show! - Hmmm... child Yamato somehow reminds me of Youko Usami / YellowBuster of "Tokumei Sentai Go-Busters". I'm not sure why. I mean, they look so alike to be called actual siblings. Speaking of comparison, I've been watching "Mirai Sentai Timeranger" concurrently, and starting to notice several similarities between that 24th season (that comes right before 25th anniversary... "Hyakujuu Sentai Gaoranger") and Zyuohger. Smart green, rambunctious yellow, cool blue, and mature pink? Swap the future members with Zyumans, and basically you have the same set. Complete with a 6th member who started out as antagonist and struggles with friendship. It even has an episode with an MotW polluting the sea (Timeranger's episode 27). The one that made me took notice however, is how Yamato shares a very similar father issue to Tatsuya Asami / TimeRed. Interesting, isn't it? - It's the 2nd time in just one episode that a death flag is shadowing Bard. Just like Kyoryuger's Torin/ Kyoryu Silver, it seems his time as a Sentai hero might be shortlived. Really, the only thing that will surprise me if this show ends with Bard being left unscathed. Also, the interruption bits have already gone tired by now. Every time a character wants to tell something important, the Dethgaliens alert ruins the moment. In this episode, it's when Amu wants to say important advice to Yamato, and when Larry wants to tell Tusk, Sela, Leo, and Misao about Bard's condition. As for the latter, why can't Larry just shout it as fast as he can before the gang heads out to battle? I don't think it'll waste much time just to say one effing line of "Look after for Bard, he might not be able to hold out his power as Zyuoh Bird". At least, that's how I would write it. - Mario has a fun meeting with Larry, but to be honest, his reaction is a little exaggerated. He should've been okay with Zyumans after knowing the secret, right? Then why does he has to look a bit wary when approaching Larry? As if he's some kind of wild beast. And that banana thing feels a bit unnecessary. Is it because, he's a gorilla? Certainly not because he's black, right? Hmmm.... - It only takes 45 episodes for us to finally see a 7-members transformation and roll call. A little late, but nice... I guess? Afer all, high chance we might not see it again in the next episodes. Better get used to big roll calls too, since we're going to have a fully active 9-members team starting next month! LOL. Need to point out one thing though: at least Zyuohger's penchant for balance in group pose is praiseworthy. Unlike Ninninger with its odd assymetrical group pose, Zyuohger always gets it right. This 7-members version in particular, looks really good due to Yamato being positioned in the center. Yes, it would look much nicer had Bard has a different design, and not just recolor, of course. I guess that's probably the reason why Yamato utilizes his Zyuoh Gorilla form right away. - This might be a wrong reaction, but I actually laugh when the 4 trapped Zyuoh Cubes returns to the four core Zyumans' hands instead of Zyuoh Bird. In a convenient color-appropriate manner too! Bard was the one who spent his time to locate those, right? LOL. Also, I initially thought Zyuoh Bird is going to transform into an orange Zyuoh Whale. Apparently that's not the case. No point on making a completely new suit for the occasion, right? He just used up the last of his energy to fire that "Zyuoh Final Deep Lock" blast. A futile attempt to seal Azald. - Yep, Azald's true form becomes full circle with the Zyuman history, as the blast only jogs his hidden inner memory. He's none other than that terrifying enemy that Cetas, the original Zyuoh Whale, had to sacrificed his own life to seal (episode 28). I must say, I really appreciate this direction, because as "Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." always used to say, "It's all connected". A long game that I didn't even see coming! Then again, Azald's Voice Actor Jouji Nakata has played Great Professor Bias, the big bad of "Choujuu Sentai Liveman" before. So it makes perfect sense that he's playing someone important here. What an amazing nod too (Nakata also started out as secondary villain before he portrayed Bias). Just look at the true Azald, in just a single demonstration of power, every Zyuohgers are knocked out cold! Even Naria looks genuinely scared. - Unfortunately... judging from the looks of things (as in, the preview, what else?), it seems this powerhouse Immortal Azald is going to bite the dust in the next episode. And well... that might be another misstep. Why? Obviously because despite the underwhelming attempts to showcase his threat-level, I don't feel Genis is up for the task to be the final big bad. Way too predictable, I must add. Right now, I would've liked it better if it's an ancient God of Destruction who becomes the last threat for the show. Of course, that idea can still play out, so it's still uncertain for now. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what really happens next....

Overall: Intense, might be the best word to describe this episode. Not just physically, but also emotionally. For Yamato at least. Was it a great episode though? Not quite, as I have pointed out some flaws that prevented it from getting higher score. The good thing though, because the seeds have all been too-patiently planted throughout the course of the show, it's time to reap one payoffs after another. I do honestly enjoyed seeing things coming together, eventhough there are some plot points (like the discrimination between humans and Zyumans) that might seemingly be tossed aside for convenience sake. Still, looking at it from a positive perspective, if the final three episodes can keep it up at least on par with this one, looks like we're in for a proper finale. Next week: Immortal Azald & Genis. Bard & the stoic Doctor. It's Yamato's daddy issue Part Trois (and Final?)...

Episode 45 Score: 7,7 out of 10

All images are screencaptured from the series, provided by the FanSubber Over-Time. "Doubutsu Sentai Zyuohger" is produced by TOEI, and airs every Sunday on TV-Asahi. Credits and copyrights belong to their respective owners.

[ulyssessae78552-blog]

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[marauderingbad-blog]

Yer a Werewolf, Remus

PART 1/3

Read the Full Story on ArchiveOfOurOwn  http://archiveofourown.org/works/11614782 

James wasn’t a stalker--at least not in his own imagining of what a stalker was--but he had certainly developed some pretty grade-A stalker strategies in the past few months. For instance, James had a secret calendar that he only worked on with Sirius and Peter (or, really, that he worked on with Peter by association only, since Peter rarely helped--he was kind of just there). What were the contents of this secret calendar, you ask? Oh, only the whereabouts of their other best friend, Remus Lupin.

So, okay, that sounded like some serious stalking, but James was convinced it was for a good cause. None of them quite bought Remus’ inconsistent excuses for where he disappeared to so often, so they took figuring out what was wrong into their own hands. They’d been tracking his absences from school, looking for a pattern.

James had the calendar spread out before the three of them on the dormitory floor. He chewed on the tip of his quill, observing the days of the month associated with the absences. Remus definitely disappeared around the same time each month...then another marking on the calendar jumped out at James, a little circle.

“Hey, guys…” he began hesitantly, pointing his index finger at the moon symbol. “Does it seem like...like Remus is always gone at the full moon?” James asked, looking up suddenly.

Sirius had been momentarily distracted from their task at hand by the leaping toadstool he had nicked from herbology class. And how amusing it was to hear Peter squeal when he plugged it into his nose.

“Erm..” he responded distantly without removing his eyes from the pitiful leaping mushroom that was now bouncing from Peter’s scalp to his nose. Despite his lack of full attention, the information soon came to settle somewhere in his brain.

“Hang on..” he said, this time with investment as he looked up at James. “We did realize that he was disappearing monthly, right? Do the dates line up with the full moon?” He asked as he scrambled through earlier versions of the chart, going back into the spring of last year, which had been their first year at Hogwarts.

Peter frantically tried to extrecate the toadstool from his nose, “Sirius!” he whined. James chewed on his lip, paying Peter and Sirius’ antics no mind for the moment. He looked for the little moon marking on the pages as Sirius flipped through them. The calendar sheets had just come printed with the marking, James hadn’t really thought anything of it...until now.

“Yeah…” James confirmed, his voice hesitant, contemplative. “The dates all seem to be during and around the full moon.”

“The night of and day after, to be exact…” Sirius said quietly as he surveyed the chart, his eyes scalding with alacrity. He looked up at James with an astonished, thrilled gaze. This was the most significant breakthrough they had reached to date. He sat up from his relaxed pose on the floor to a more alert position with his legs crossed.

“What sicknesses relate to the lunar cycle?” Sirius asked breathlessly as he pulled over their tome on magical diseases and maladies. “What are Remus’ symptoms?” he asked, grabbing his quill and beginning to make a list on a stray piece of parchment, saying them aloud as they revealed themselves in his mind. “Exhaustion...weakness… malaise. Those are post-full moon..” His handwriting was nearly illegible but James and Sirius didn’t need the script to remember.

“I don’t see what any of this would have to do with the full moon,” Peter said dismissively.

James, meanwhile, remained quiet, nodding as Sirius spoke. “That sounds right,” he said, flipping through another one of the wizarding medical texts they’d taken out of the library. James looked up “moon” in the glossary, trailing his finger along an unfamiliar word--it instructed him to turn to the entry for lycanthropy. On a whim, James chose to turn to this term over all the others that were listed under “moon.”

“Oh…” James uttered aloud as he read the description--lycanthropy was simply the technical term for the condition of, well...being a werewolf. He resumed biting down into his lip, glancing up at Sirius. Was it insane to even mention it? He cleared his throat.

“This, ah, this says a condition related to the moon is...being a werewolf,” he said. “I mean, duh,” James added as if to lighten the mood. “Let’s just see--let’s see what it says happens to people afterwards. You’d think they’d be all...strong and aggressive, right?” he reasoned, and then didn’t fit Remus at all. “Following the full moon,” James read aloud. “Werewolves often experience exhaustion, malaise, illness, muscle pain, and general weakness and aches of the body.” he trailed off, looking up again at Sirius.

At first, Sirius snorted with disbelief, then grinned. “Remus? A strong, aggressive werewolf?” he sniggered incredulously at the image. “That’s almost as fucked as Peter being a Gryffindor.” he scoffed but his grin vanished the moment James began to read off the exact symptoms he had scribbled down.

“That...I mean--those symptoms could be common for loads of…” Sirius attempted to justify the coincidences, but for once, words failed him. “Erm…I guess I dunno..” He said blankly as he swallowed hard, his expression becoming somber.

But he did know. The similarities of symptoms and timing of Remus’ disappearances had too many uncanny similarities to lycanthrophy to be coincidence, and even as Sirius tried to dismiss the suggestion something inside him had completed the puzzle. He just didn’t want to see it. If they were right, which they must be, then every month Remus would transform into a killing monster, at least, that’s what he had been told about werewolves. And for how long had this been happening to him? Surely, the boys had recognized that Remus was suffering and that it must be something terrible if he would lie to his best friends to keep it a secret, but this is a completely different inconceivable level.

Sirius suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad. He met James’ gaze, knowing by his expression that he was experiencing similar thoughts.

James held Sirius’ gaze for a moment, then looked away, ruffling his hair, both in contemplation and in a somewhat anxious way. It made sense--the absences, how sick and frail he looked when he came back, the secretiveness. James’ mind played through every stereotype, every prejudice of what a werewolf was that he’d heard growing up--he’d always taken it for granted that they were monsters, since that’s what every story portrayed them as, whether fictional or real accounts from The Prophet, and it was how everyone talked about them.

Nonetheless, James had to let go of these conceptions, because he couldn’t reconcile them with what he knew of Remus. He’d never really considered that a werewolf was a normal person for most of the month--or that they weren’t just scary grown-ups like Fenrir Greyback, but potentially kids like Remus.

Taking a breath, James broke the silence. “Well, when all’s said and done, Remus is probably the least monster-like of all of us, so I suppose all that stuff everyone says about werewolves is just rubbish,” James concluded.

“Wait, I still don’t get it,” Peter said. “What are you lot talking about werewolves for?”

Sirius listened to James and nodded his head eagerly. “Definitely.” he agreed with resolution. They knew Remus all too well to think otherwise.

His thoughtfulness ceased abruptly when Peter opened his mouth. “For fuck’s sake…” he groaned. “You really are a daft cow. Do I need to spell it out for you? With illustrations in case the words are too big for you?” Sirius spat impatiently.

“Remus is a werewolf, you dim git.”

He turned back to James with his composure returning. “And we have to help him. Right?”

Peter’s eyes looked as if they were about to bulge out of his head. “A werewolf, but they’re…”

James held his hand up, effectively cutting Peter off. “Don’t finish whatever was about to come after that but. We all know what werewolves are supposed to be, and we also all know who Remus is,” he resolved, not wanting to entertain even a moment of negativity against Remus. James fixed his eyes intently on Sirius and nodded. “Of course,” he said determinedly, then leaned back onto his elbows, surveying the books they’d already taken out. He sighed, “I think we’re going to need some different books.”

~~*~~

James was lounging on his bed in the middle of one of their research powwows several weeks later, reading a book he’d nicked from the forbidden section of the library. He was munching on chocolate frogs as he did, carelessly getting his chocolate covered fingers all over this priceless text that probably dated to the Middle Ages or something. He suspected this might be the very reason why some of these books were forbidden in the first place--they weren’t all about dark magic, so it was probably more that the school didn’t want twelve year olds like James messing them up. But it was a necessary sacrifice--the chocolate got James’ brain working.

“Wait, so, animals can’t be turned into werewolves, even if they get bit by one?” he asked, looking over at Sirius, not even really bothering to address Peter. James was never totally sure what Peter did during these “study” sessions, but he never contributed anything worthwhile.

“So...Could I turn into a Werewolf by eating Remus’ food?” Peter asked once again from his bed as he continued to stuff Remus’ peppermint toads into his unhinged mouth.

Sirius had lost count of how many times Peter had asked them that. Considering how close they were to developing a plan to help Remus, he was currently in the midst of one of his frustrated states--And when Sirius was frustrated, someone had to suffer. This time (well, most of the time, really) it was Peter. Sirius was now lying with his back to the floor with an absurdly large and boring book levitated just above his face. As he finished scanning each section, the page would automatically turn itself.

“I swear on Merlin’s beard,” Sirius growled slowly. “if you ever ask me that ever again I will stuff those toads so far up your arsehole that you’ll have to chew them and swallow them back down. If you’re not going to help us then at least shut your bloody face before I enchant the hairs on your head to lace your mouth permanently shut.” Sirius snarled.

James rolled his eyes and quietly marveled at what it must be like to want peppermint toads so badly you’d be willing to risk becoming a werewolf; not that you could become a werewolf by sharing food with one, obviously, but still. Peter’s uncertainty implied he’d been willing to take the risk.

Peter hid behind his bed curtains, whimpering softly. He hesitantly glanced out at Sirius, who returned his look with a fiery glare.

Sirius was mid-glare when he remembered that James had spoken to him--immediately his expression relaxed. He sat up onto his forearms and looked thoughtfully into something James and Peter could not see for a moment.

“Erm, I dunno but...” He considered this concept, continuing to mentally search. “I mean--if you think about it, loads of animals have to coexist with werewolves. I’ve never heard of a were-beaver or some shite.” he sniggered. “It must only infect humans.”

James chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “And if animals can’t get it...there are ways for wizards to turn into animals, right? Like McGonagall!” James jumped up into a sitting position in excitement. “Remember when she transformed from the cat on the first day of class?” he asked excitedly. “What was that called again? We could do that! Then we could at least keep him company!”

“ANIMAGI,” Sirius burst out, his eyes wide with thrill as their eureka moment came to manifest. “THAT’S IT. We could become animagi!” He stood up, his heart pounding and began to pace the room in thought. “Not many people have done it but it’s obviously possible. And wizards certainly must have done it without having to register.. And then We could stay with Remus the entire time and he couldn’t possibly say no since as animals he won’t be able to infect us. You and I can figure it out, James. Let’s fucking do it.” He finished with a grin.

“B..b..but.. wait...We’re not registered..” Peter squeaked. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let us register….”

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed. “We’re not going to register--As I just strongly implied, you dundering sloth. And Dumbledore’s not going to know. No one’s going to know..and no one’s going to tell.” He finished, eyeing Peter. “McGonagall must have books on it in her private collection..something to point us in the right direction.. One of us could schedule a meeting with her and distract her and the others could just take a look..”

“James..” Peter said in a pleading voice (realizing he was his only chance) as he sat on the end of James’ bed (making it sink on the side he was sitting on). “T..this is a bad idea.. We could get expelled, James.. We could go to Azkaban! This is illegal! I don’t think…..Sirius is just being….--”

Sirius snorted and interrupted him. “--We’ll put it to a vote then. Naturally, Peter chickens out. A true Gryffindor through and through. James, what do you say, mate?” he asked eagerly.

James beamed at Sirius, boldened by the encouragement and confirmation that this could work, they could do it. He turned to Peter as he spoke, his grin diminishing slightly, but only into a wry sort of smirk. “Peter,” he said as if reasoning with a petulant child. “We’re not going to register and we are certainly not going to tell Dumbledore anything,” he said, nodding in agreement with Sirius. James’ expression turned grave as Sirius insisted no one told, his eyes focused steadily on Peter in that moment, unblinking.

“Do you think it’d work if we told her another class assigned us an essay on our favorite professor? We could interview her on being an animagus, how she did it. Maybe she’ll mention a few books and we can find them,” he suggested, then bit his lip, his thoughts growing ever bolder. “Or…” he trailed off for dramatic effect. “She may still have something in her office, and we do have an invisibility cloak,” James pointed out.

Peter’s only chance proved to be not much of a chance at all. James’ mind was utterly made up. “We won’t get expelled and no one is going to Azkaban,” he said dismissively. “Merlin’s beard, Pete, they don’t send kids to Azkaban. If we get caught--which we won’t--we plead ignorance. Say we forgot you had to register,” he shrugged, leaning back into his pillow. “Knowing Dumbledore, he’ll be impressed.”

“I’m in,” James said swiftly. “I’m all in.”

Sirius’ smirk curled and the fire in his grey eyes flickered.

To Be Continued