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inventors-fair · 3 years

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Animal Race Commentary: Packing it In

I’ll get the personal excuses out of the way: between school responsibilities, work responsibilities, a savage head cold, and weekend expeditions, this was a pretty rough week for me to do a turnaround on short notice. I really don’t know how I was doing one of these every week back in the day… Then again, we didn’t have quite the numbers that we have now, do we. Well, except for that one Commander contest, but regardless.

I think most of my criticisms this week fall into nitpicks, because the creativity was astounding and the heart was absolutely heartfelt. There was a lot of care worked into these cards in some ways, and I greatly appreciate having a more open contest for this kind of thing. I’m glad that the consensus was pretty on-track as well; most people know what an anthropomorphic animal race looks like, and there was very little confusion or rules-pushback, and I think that just about everyone made a brand-new race as well with some worldbuilding alongside! Of course, there’ll be the individual comments to be seen, and when we get there we’ll see how that all went down.

I’m gonna do the same thing as last week, I think, where I’ll just talk about good and bad points, pick the nits as they come, and see how that goes. Maybe once I’m conscious these will even be coherent. JUDGE PICKS are cards that, for one specific reason or another, I’d like to commend, even if they still need some TLC. And as always, discussion and questions are welcome, my opinion is my own, you’re all still awesome, so let’s jump right into it. Awoo!

@azathoth-the-bored — Krestek, Coralstone Engineer

I’d like to commend you, mostly, for starting us off with a really funny card. That’s the other good thing, though, qualifying what may be perceived as condescending: I don’t mean funny as dismissive or childish, but there’s an inherent humor to this world you’ve made as there are inherent humorous aspects to having a set with pirates or ninjas in today’s pop-culture world. Crabs that make vehicles to fight against the surface-dwellers is fantastic. I genuinely like that concept. I also really appreciate that you reached a LOT here into weirdness with the vehicle tokens. Those haven’t been done before, no? No reason they couldn’t be, and I think that it makes a lot of sense here!

Mechanically, you do need to say “tap X *untapped* creatures and/or Vehicles you control” for that, but you know what, as a mythic with some neat power that can crew the Vehicles they make, I’m down for Krestek going nuts here. So if I sound really down for this card, here’s the main criticisms to take away: flavor needs to exist outside your own head. It’s the exact same issue with the Phyrexian harbinger, except a little less so, but what everyone else isn’t seeing here is the paragraph you sent about the lore of the Deep Folk, and mech stuff, and speciesism, and—look, once again, your card needs to speak for itself. Frankly, it does, even without the flavor text, which is…passable if it had quotation marks, but even then. With this strong a card, I know you would benefit from more trust in your card’s ability to carry itself. You’re doing good work and improving. Just keep in mind the limitations.

@charcharmera — Kaunos, Lord of the Glade

The really fascinating design space here is hard to work around. I’m well aware of players that enjoy manipulating combat from the opponent’s board, making them attack and all, because I’m one of them. I think that for wording, the first ability is just “Whenever an opponent attacks you,” as much as I personally like the more specific wording. Should it be on “target creature you control” too? The second ability might need to target an opponent, IMO, and the second sentence could just be “Creatures that player controls attack this turn if able.” Maybe there should be a timing restriction, too, because there are DEFINITELY ways to exploit this, and gumming up the turn is complicated.

There’s a lot of cool stuff about this card. Perhaps ‘Lord’ invokes the creature type “Noble” more than “Knight,” but Kaunos as a knight still makes sense, and you know what, I do like him and the general feel. Here’s a fighter that’ll stand up to the oncoming force and defend it, gung ho, love it. Stoic, solid and—well, noble. That much comes across. Mechanically, there could be some wiggle room to make this gel better, but I personally think that this card earns a “pretty cool.”

@chungus-supreme — Ursine Protector

Defending a cub is all well and good, and this card’s fairly standard for its body and abilities. I need to get two big things out of the way, though, and the first the wording on the last ability. To rephrase: “When ~ dies, you gain life equal to the amount of damage dealt to it this turn.” I’m not sure where you got “damage it took” but that’s never appeared on a card before. The pronoun “you” always goes before lifegain effects that affect you, as well, and that’s one of the biggest grammar issues that pops up on any custom card so don’t worry too much. I was iffy on the first ability but that’s actually perfectly correct as far as I can tell.

The second major issue is the creature type. I’m not sure why this isn’t a bear, and that’s throwing me off in a major way. Creatively, Magic has bears, and bear-people, so I’m going to chalk this one up to a mistake over a creative choice, but if it is a creative choice then I’m really uncertain as to what led you there. If it’s a mistake, well, water under the bridge, but like I say, it’s always worth polishing your cards to their maximum potential before submitting.

@corporalotherbear — Acoulid Woodtapper (JUDGE PICK)

The aye-aye and I don’t always see eye-to-aye-aye-eye—ay, yi, yi… Anyway. Hell yeah. This card’s a trip and a half. Two small fixes: “creature or land” is the correct order instead of “land or creature,” and the “If” should be capitalized in that last sentence. Aside from that… Oh, this card’s just too clever for its own good, and I love it so. “Tapping a land,” that’s just too perfect, and it’s one of those things where even if this particular card wouldn’t get printed after a heckload of set revisions, it would mean something from the outset. For those of you not in the know, look up how the aye-aye finds its food. I saw enough in the workshop to know this was an aye-aye, so there’s that too, but anyway.

This card has a conundrum that I’m not sure how to get around, and that’s the fact that it could also be a non-sapient creature without the Monk subtype. Is that a bad thing? Not really, it’s just something that art direction or a little flavor/background could fix in post. Should UR be making green Insects for the flavor? I think I would have been 100% more aligned if it was a red Insect, and heck, red’s the secondary color for MTG bugs, right? This card has a solid commendable core with a pun and a half of good work behind it, and it’s just on the side of not quite reaching me on the MTG side of things. I want to show it as an example of how cleverness can really make a card pop, and how this is the correct way to be clever within the contest confines. A little reach beyond that would’ve been perfect but as it stands we’re still good.

@dabudder — Segovian Foot Soldier

It fits the prompt, and it’s cute. This is, unfortunately, all I can really say about this card. I’ve tried to find a good angle, but resonance in the world of Segovia stops at the point of “things are very small.” What more substance is there? Well, now we can assume animal-folk attacking intruders, but is that enough? Compared to the information and mechanical resonance of some of these other cards, I would argue no. There is, again, nothing inherently wrong with this card and idea. There’s just not much for me to really dig into. Maybe Vraska’s approach? But what is she saying that adds more information that we wouldn’t already have gleaned?

I want to learn and be challenged by these cards. This card would be perfectly fine in the sets that ask for it. For this contest, I feel you can push yourself and your designs more into a realm of questioning. I’m sorry there’s not much more to say about this card, and I know I’m rambling a bit already.

@deg99 — Baneshell Plunderer (JUDGE PICK)

Trust me from lived experience: turtles being given guns doesn’t end well. I don’t think it’s ending well for that human dude just offscreen, but anyway. I think that the name “Baneshell” sells me here, that there’s a named group of these turtle mercenary dudes wreaking havoc on whatever port town they’re in. And it’s silly, yeah, but that’s just the inherent silliness of having an animal race, especially one that’s uncommon and not as “”noble”” as something like lions or eagles or whatever.

Mechanically, I like the build-around-ness of this card, and how marginally useful it could be in limited. Freezing is nice, even if it isn’t something that can happen repeatedly. Treasure token generation too is an awesome addition, especially because you’re guaranteed at least one. It almost makes this guy feel more like an extortionist, which is still very blue. I mean this in the good way but this card feels a lot like a “limited rare” for a premier set. Y’know? Like, something they shell out (heh) during preview season to drum up a little hype, and then it’s thirty cents down the line. That’s not a bad thing! It feels organic in that way. There might be something with that last ability that could use reworking by way of Amulet of Vigor but I’m not sure how.

@dimestoretajic — Stripe, The Mighty

I’ve read and own every Redwall book, so the phenomenon of badger warriors is nothing new to me. I’m not sure if that’s where you were coming from, but it seems to be pretty much along those lines, right? That’s the first misstep, I feel—as much as I do love Redwall, I wanted something entirely new from this contest, and there’s ways to make that resonant without feeling like a copy of the source material. I’d be kinder if the flavor text was more original, but it feels like an overly-verbose retread of Enrage, with its own well-known origins.

Giving this creature first strike as well was another decision that causes a major disconnect. The majority of Enrage mechanics are going to be triggered via combat damage (Occam’s razor), and if something is dealing combat damage to Stripe, chances are Stripe isn’t surviving that encounter, and so what’s the use of having modes? Again, I understand the flavor of Enrage here and why you chose it, but first strike takes away everything that Enrage wants to do; they’re inherently incompatible mechanics. The takeaway I want you to have here is that there were a few ways to do this card right, all of which hinged upon a departure from the emotional attachment to some of its aspects.

@eveydeevey — Gharial Guide

This card got a lot of buzz about it, and you know what, I can see why. Crocodile-folk rooting around in the mud to get some things back from the earth feels unique but resonant, a good combination. Whoever this muscly dude is, I get a sense of their mood, their mojo, the lifestyle and way around the world—yeah, I grok it, I grok the less combative aspects of their world, the utilitarian side. The flavor text is pretty deec, although the last part’s losing me a little bit here. I mean, yeah, they’re pulling it out, but why? A hint as why could have been more helpful, as well as a reason for why this card is a “Guide”/Scout. Who are they guiding? Why does that scouting involve salvaging? What is this creature/race’s connection to the land itself? The disconnect between salvaging and guiding is clashing for me on an otherwise really strong introductory card to this new race.

Mechanically, it’s pretty great. It’s definitely too strong. Multicolor isn’t enough to justify having an on-curve-plus body WITH protection AND a probably relevant attacking ability. Like, good lord, value town here. That is a limited perspective though, and honestly, it’s not that hard to fix. One generic mana, making it even a bear, reducing the ward cost, yadda yadda. Like, this card’s one to save for expansion, but it does definitely need fixing. All the same, it’s worth fixing, and your flavor’s strong enough to work on too.

@fractured-infinity — Riverhold Captain

I’m reading over this card and trying to grok it, and I understand it, but I’m having a hard time trying to fully express what bothers me about it. It’s a trope-aligned and reasonable take on turtles, sure, the captain-ness seems fitting, alright, and… What is this card doing, really? What is steady doing? What’s the point of having the additional two toughness? What about the analog memory issues of which ones do and don’t untap during the untap step? Turn-to-turn effects, plus the trigger of ward, which then messes with the untap, is all just too much for me.

The word that comes to mind is “undisciplined,” but that’s far too harsh for what I’m thinking. I think that this card just isn’t aware of how much the effects will change the board state and how much there is to keep track of in a way that doesn’t make it immediately apparent how it helps in the game plan. I had an old friend who used to play Magic and who made cards with me, and the cards all had absurd toughness-to-MV ratios with defensive effects, because that was how they liked to play the game but it was all just stalling, and this is what feels evoked here: a stalled board state designed to prolong rather than progress. If I’m not grokking this card, then there’s something greater that I’m definitely missing, but if I DO grok it, then it definitely needs revision.

@gollumni — Pengu Frostfinder

I’m quite eager to talk about this card because it evokes something about Magic design that I thoroughly enjoy, and that’s the concept of choice. This card does something I think is ultimately a detriment, and that’s the fact that the first ability isn’t a “may” ability. Every snowfall will exile the top card of your library whether you like it or not, and then subsequently the cards you filter with Pengu Frostfinder will also result in another card being exiled. Now. How would this change if the first ability was a “may” ability? The versatility would certainly allow for more caution, and as a player, your agency would increase dramatically. Why? Because the second ability, the activated ability, is also a choice, with the exception of the exile. It’s forcing you to exile, but at a cost that you can rationalize, whereas the first ability forces cards to potentially be lost forever, and if that first ability was a “may” ability then the second would also be radically more powerful because you’ll already have decided how much you’ve gained or lost to exile and what you’ll gain or lose if your penguin gets iced.

Flavorfully yeah you have a cute penguin wizard and whatever and it’s wonderful, but this card’s definitely bottom-up in a snow world, and that’s why there’s a massive paragraph about the mechanics. I really don’t want to dismiss the notion of cute penguin wizardry; the mechanical stuff is just so fascinating to me, with resource management, mitigation, the really cool concepts that it introduces. Like, this is a REALLY good card, too, really resonant and all! It’s also happened to spur me into a topic that I find cool as a designer.

@grornt — Waikiki Jewel-Juggler (JUDGE PICK)

Someone would be humming the Mission Impossible theme as they played this card, and while that someone isn’t me, I’m pleased that there would be someone like that and I’m glad that this card’s here to fill that slot in. Where’s the name come from? If it’s just made-up ‘cause it sounds cool, sure, I’m with you, but I wish I knew about any linguistic origin. If there was something in the prompt, I missed it, and that’s my bad. God, this is one where the art just sells me, and it’s so damn good at conveying what you want to convey. This is a world I get, immediately, and quite frankly even without the art I would get it all the same. This card feels really good on the eyes and brain.

What set would it be in? This is something I’m curious about, because I’m looking at the abilities, and I’m like, oh, I’m a Vintage player, and I’m gonna steal a Mox and have some shenanigans there, but even small creatures could be fun. It’s a shame you can’t switcheroo things and sac them in response to just gain control, because that would be a field day, but also, stealing someone’s Sol Ring would be amazingly fun. I’m still not positive, but I think that there are ways for this card—oh, TOKENS, lmao, that’s awesome—for this card to really make things frustrating and hilarious. It’s still quite limited in scope, but heck, some cards like this one benefit from a limited scope, and that’s what matters the most. I love this monkey, even if I’ve lost all my precious stones to it.

@helloijustreadyourpost — Formicid Vanguard

I was wondering why the flavor text was bugging me—no pun intended because it wasn’t “bothering” or “annoying” me exactly; it was just this minor complication I couldn’t put into words. Then, I had to ask: what is the hive, if not its members? I understand that this was playing into the flavor of the individual dying for the greater good, and that tracks, that’s all awesome there. The question is just what is the “hive,” then? It’s a philosophical nitpick that just makes me read the flavor text in a different light. The rest of the mood, though, that all tracks, and it’s a trope but a reasonable trope because you’ve brought it to life and given it a new character. I truly care about this little ant dude even if they’re willing to sacrifice themselves for the rest of their ant buddies.

Capitalize “Insect” in the abilities and you should be all set. I’m wondering what the secondary color would be for this draft archetype, and you know what, the more I think about it the less it matters, but at the same time it’ll eventually matter a lot, and that’s cool. I mean that genuinely, because it could go into any number of colors, less so blue but black, sure, white, most likely, red I could see it, and that’s interesting to me and that tracks. This card’s got solid chops, less an introduction to a world and more about the lives of inhabitants that assume we know already, and I’m fine with that, honestly!

@hiygamer — Skittri Honor Guard

The resonance of insects giving their lives seems to be a common theme, huh. I think that humans find some solace in that kind of self-sacrifice, that we can impose the concept of nobility onto a survival tactic, and have a moral dilemma solved with an example and meaning. It’s interesting! This card on the mechanical side tracks that for sure. Stops the targeting and stops the general boardwipe if need be, sure. Vigilance as an on-curve example as well as a flavor indicator, I can track it.

So about that flavor text. This is the return of the additive question, and I often question myself at this point: am I asking too much from flavor text? I don’t think so. I do ask a lot, and I think that a lot of printed Magic flavor text does lean into ease of access and trope a little, and that’s fine, but I’m going to ask that the envelope be pushed just a touch, and this particular quote is quite comfortable with the envelope where it is. It’s not *bad* by any stretch of the imagination, but it evokes information we can already glean from the abilities, which are strong enough as they are. Now that I know the Skittri are insects who have a guard class serving their legends from the card, the flavor text can add something different, and right now, it’s not there yet. A little bit of personality, sure, but it’s tabula rasa. I don’t want to harp too much but I like to make these conversations and without someone to give me feedback on when they’ve got it and I can stop, I can just keep going. The takeaway here is to use flavor text to show what the card doesn’t show already.

@hypexion — Vespin Raider (JUDGE PICK)

That word, “chorus.” What an interesting choice. One word changes the nature of this card so much, because it’s not a cacophony, it’s not a scream, it’s a chorus. What does that say about the unity of this tribe, race, whatever? How does that speak to their notions of harmony? Are they friendly and unified, or—no, the name “Raider,” what does that mean? Do they destroy with mindless resonance, or with controlled evisceration taught from birth? There are a lot of contextualized questions that that word brings to the table, and I think it’s a subtle choice that just happens to strike a chord with me personally, because it’s so specific.

The card itself is still good, and has applications, and is well-worded and VERY powerful, and I don’t think it’d be significantly standard-playable but for casual players it would be cool as anything. I mean, it’s the Squadron Hawk but Not Quite phenomenon, right? Still big and powerful, still really neat, not quite there because that would be very much broken, but still absolutely strong even with two in limited, let alone three, and that’s also discounting tribal aspects if there are any. Yeah, no, I dig this card! It’s not quite making me salivate for this world, but it’s bringing some well-known ideas to the table in a presentable and interesting way. Oh, wait, they’re wasps, I just…remembered that, my goodness. Again, head cold’s been sending me into a fog. They’re definitely jerks then.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Attendant of Fire

This one’s tricky as heck. Looking at that second ability especially, I can get a sense of power level that feels immensely strong on the surface. It’s made for players that know how to use it and it’s perhaps not designed for limited unless there’s a hyper-strong monocolor focus, but that doesn’t feel great at the moment. No, there’s something else, and it’s a curiosity. I think this card, mechanically, is good, with a good name, a strange typeline, and thoughtful abilities. I think it’s asking a lot from a limited deck and that it would be unfathomably strong in the right constructed environment, and that that’s not too hard to envision.

We find ourselves at flavor junction again, and the callback to Chandra and Jhoira here was something that a lot of people in the workshop found pretty cute. As for me, I don’t. Is a callback or a reference the best place to introduce a new creature type, perhaps a new world, for a contest where the context is going to be entirely based around the creature’s existence and what we’re discovering through it? I don’t think so. I’ll be honest: I don’t care about Chandra and Jhoira right now, because I want to care about the Attendant, and even about the lord of “my lord,” and the planeswalker business is getting in the way. This wasn’t what I was looking for at all and doesn’t resonate with me. With other enfranchised players, sure, I can see that, and there are people who might want to explore those options more if they were running this contest. I’m not that person, and this wasn’t that contest.

@jsands84 — Bloodsucking Lawyer

This ain’t your grandmother’s Orzhov, no siree. And wow, there’s a bit to unpack. Starting off, though, the mechanics are really solid, and a strong build-around for a world in which this kind of card could flavorfully exist. It’s not pushing the mechanical envelope but it’s pushing power level, compared to other hybrid two-drops in the same vein. I swear, that wasn’t intentional. The card itself is playing off of some silly tropes and kinda-puns and the like, but now that I’ve caught the bug—no, wait—UGH.

Flavor. Okay. Back on track. This paragraph is…definitely overwritten, but that’s okay, because it’s well-written enough to be pared down. The last sentence could be reworked a little bit to give the whole picture, and you know what, that’s fine, and I think that it could definitely use that push because the mechanics, while not reinventing the wheel, convey everything you want to convey. I took this basic art concept and tried to apply it to a fantasy world where insect lawyers were the norm, and man, it’s terrifying and gory and I kinda love it. It’s definitely removed from the world of Ravnica and there’s nothing wrong with that. This card shows that you grok the contest in a way the befits mosquitos, and props to ya for that.

@kellylogs — Vuline Ranger

What I want to love about this card is the backstory, and what I’m really trying not to criticize too much is the squished text. There is a lot that you put into this card and it makes it hard to focus because it’s physically difficult to grok right off the bat. I think that without vigilance it could be possible to squeeze more in, but this card is unnecessarily crowded and it makes it really hard to talk about without mentioning that. Without flavor text, we wouldn’t get the gist of this awesome worldbuilding, but with it, the card’s just not physically printable. And it’s a shame, because mechanically, these things are sensible: the ranger searches for new lands and protects the land they currently occupy, lands outside the realm of Eldraine’s scope.

See, I do think that that’s cool, this Aesop’s world of fairytale talking animals but with the dark and twisted combative world of Magic, like how Eldraine had some elements of gothic horror that were more rooted in the tropes than anything. Man, I played a lot of that set, and I did love it a lot, but I do have a love for them fairytale roots, and this card playing into that is making me want to love it, and everything about it is nice except for that squish. Revising this to an uncommon without vigilance and without flavor text would have been much better and might even have been a judge pick. This particular space is just asking too much for the parameters of a physical card.

@maispace — Duelspinner

There…is a lot that this card is bringing to the table. I’m a little stunned as to how keyword soup turns into a fascinating card mechanically. “Tap it and exert it”—like, that’s really cool to me, and I think that this is the kind of experimental envelope-pushing I was talking about in earlier submissions. Is it a good card? That’s the frustrating part, because this card is perfectly reasonable, to a degree, until it isn’t. I feel that this card is a little too powerful, and that might be the lifelink aspect (in fact, I’m almost certain) or it might be the solid body or it might be any number of small parts. I would like to see this card tested just to check its annoyance factor. In a shell where you can control combat, swinging in with this card would be monumentally more powerful than it appears on the surface. That’s the big question: is that exerting clause sufficiently strong enough to get around how much this card is a bomb on the battlefield?

Truly, I don’t know, but if I’m hemming and hawing about this enough, I think that it’s worth revising on the mechanical front. So let’s look at that flavor, hm? I think this is one that’s hard to sort of get my head around, or rather, I can get my head around it but I can see where it wouldn’t be particularly convincing to show a spider spinning a web around something without making it a little bit cruel. I don’t find spiders particularly scary, but many people do, and having a spider toying with you in combat? The love of the fight is a good twist on expected tropes for insectile devourers, and I think that that’s on the clever side. A “good foe” feels a mite bit weak to me, but that’s just a strange word choice trying to play into symmetry, and I get it. Is the foe the opponent? I doubt it’s the creatures, because it’s big enough to eat a majority of what it would face on the battlefield. I think I’m on the verge of getting this card, but we’re not quite there yet.

@mardu-lesbian — Ainok Paladin (JUDGE PICK)

I saw you cringing in the talk the other day about the power level of this card, and I really want to defend you—so I will. This card is on the higher end of power level and complexity and I’d pick it highly in a draft for sure, but that’s also not taking into account the environment’s removal, mechanics, and the fact that if I do so much as Unsummon an ally then it’s back to a regular on-curve creature with a heavy color weight restriction. Does that mean an environment where it’s probably going to have a RW shell to build around? Yeah, but there’s still a heavy color weight to it that forces it into that place while allowing strength in other colors to shine. If everything around it is removed, then it loses that edge. Could it be probably better as a 2/3? Yeah, but that’s such a slight difference that it hardly matters.

The fluffiness of the Samoyed here is fading as I picture the world on which a true dog knight might take place. I see the big handsome warrior, their mace swung forward, a heavy brow and a small snarl, armor worn with roughhousing. Their regalia is impressive and their spirit is strong, and yeah, that tracks. This flavor text really does carry the mood. The togetherness you’ve pitched comes across well, and it actually feels sad, because when it’s alone again, or when it’s alone in combat, it loses that extra strength of a companion, and jeez, I’d feel a momentary pang from that alone in addition to losing my board presence. It’s clever and simple and a little smarmy and a little sweet, using enough aphorism to bring that sensation of cleverness to heart, so you know what, feel good about that, dammit, because I sure do.

@misterstingyjack — Refuse Delver

Lemme start with this: the mood and flavor of the raccoon type and the abilities totally make sense to me and feel fiendishly adorably. The characterization and the flavor text go together super well and I love this little buddy. So with both those things in mind, I was initially uncertain about how the flavor text and the abilities came together, because my first thought was: what is this particular character digging up? What are they taking out of the garbage, and why isn’t that represented in the mechanics? But you know what, this card isn’t about sifting through for something: it’s just about sifting through.

Ha, actually—surveiling here is like lifting the lid off the trash can and deciding whether or not you’re gonna throw it away, and it literally mimes the motion, and I think that that’s pretty funny. More props to ya. I think as a top-down raccoon, this card’s really nice. I wouldn’t say that it evokes a whole world or that it plays into something fantastical, but it’s super cute. It did take me a little bit to get through some parts of the mindset, but I think I’m warmed up to this card. It’s just hard with all these strong entries to pick out which ones strike a chord with me. This card’s combination of skulk and surveil sets it apart from cards that seek to get into premier sets, but at the same time the power level is of a card definitely designed for limited, so it’s hard to gauge that immediately. The bottom line is that this card really does do several things right even if my processing is a little on the low end of things today, so you know what, take that for whatever you will.

@nine-effing-hells — Ahtlaaca Champion

The Inventor’s Fair first annual original art contest begins and ends here. I wish I could make this a judge pick strictly for original art, and I think I’m not the only one who loves this piece. There’s a lot of conflict between art and no-art cards sometimes, and this one definitely adds to the piece and I’d prefer it—but I can’t let that bias me more favorably. And so should that discourage people from making art? No, because ultimately it’s enjoyable, and does add something to the creative process, and you know what because it’s an original piece that adds to the creative process it DOES impact how the card is seen even if future original art by other people doesn’t have to be as detailed even though I do appreciate the detail here—and that’s that.

So, this card. Well! I think that these effects have shown one thing in previous formats: they really don’t make for amazing rares. Should it be rare? I’ll be honest, I think this card would be a perfect uncommon for the set that asks for it. Strong? Absolutely. Chonky? Heck yeah. A dealbreaker? No, and I think there will be people who disagree with me there, but I really do insist that this could be uncommon. Flavorfully the card is pretty self-explanatory, puns and all, and the notion of “city-lakes” of this civilization is really darn cool. The action and the type and the name and the environment paint a perfect picture of the Ahtlaaca’s role in this universe. Is there a correct pronunciation of that? This might be a moment to revise things a little bit for ease of mouth feel.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff — Rhox Reformer

Let’s get two small things and one big thing out of the way first. The two small things are grammar errors. In the second ability, “you gain 1 life for each of that spell’s colors” re:Moonveil Regent, and in the last ability, the if clause should be in the middle. The second big thing is that as a card this is perfectly fine and functional, and as someone who likes lifegain cards, I like this kind of stuff a lot.

Now the big thing: this contest was about taking an underrepresented animal race or a new animal race and making it big. Almost half of the anthropomorphic rhinos from Magic are definitively from the shard of Bant, and this card solidifies its foothold in the established race without really adding much new. On that note, I don’t think there’s much else to say. It’s a fine card that doesn’t fit the prompt. If you have questions, you can message me, but there were other asks clarifying the stance about underrepresentation.

@shakeszx — Warren Sentry

Now, I won’t be remiss to say that I briefly envisioned Redwallian aspects, but these rabbits are much different, and I think your major strength here is that they really do feel like rabbits. In a fantasy sense we think of rabbits as extroverted, high-strung, brash, etc. but IRL they’re quite timid creatures and I feel that from this card’s choices. In terms of mechanical strength, I would’ve pegged this at one more mana, because even in its draft shell this is a little too powerful. I think there might need to be a “Then,” before the if clause, and “Rabbit” should be capitalized. Little odd how the token has no subtype, but anyway.

Let’s talk about flavor mismatch, and hold on, because there’s a lot of good individual parts here, but we need to take the card as a whole and I think there’s enough good to work with here. Firstly, the name. “Sentry” was a choice I’m a little uncertain about, because what does being a sentry have to do with the lands? A ranger or like a borderland watcher, maybe, but a sentry specifically isn’t giving me that feeling of discovery—discovery of an enemy, but not land. The flavor text has something to do with the high grasses, and I’m a little…hm. Grammatically, the second sentence there is hard to grok because the subject of the first sentence are the high grasses, not the “Long-Ears.” Side note: it’s simplistic but I like that name because of the fantasy feel maybe even *for* its simplicity. Anyway. If they’re bewaring the grasses, wouldn’t they be NOT finding things, though? I know, I see the generality of what you were going for, but the parts just don’t click together, especially not with the lengthy name and title down there. It’s fine for an established character on a card but it’s not snappy and asks more questions than it answers in combination with what the above contradictions are already asking of the player.

All of this is a deep picking apart to show how these aspects need to work together instead of separately. This isn’t a criticisms because of massive wrongdoing—there’s just a lot in this card I hope can make for learning material. Because there’s so much goodness here that I want to make better, I’m trying to push your ability. Does that make sense?

@starch255 — Pferden Springer

Well I hope you’re darn proud of yourself. Starting with the flavor, I like this card because it puts me in a mood where the world and set is thrown into focus instantly. A “chess world” might not be the exact mood, but the resonance is game-y enough that I think the greater player base would be delighted. I certainly am! Oh man, the set symbol too, ha. HORSE KNIGHT! I love this card! I think the conflict between the King in White and Queen in Black both subverts the king-vs-king expectation of a chess world while resonating enough, and I can see that the Pferden of this world aren’t an “aligned” race but rather just characters in this place who do what the world demands of them, and that’s a neat character detail.

I feel that the mechanics could use a touch more cleanup, because for a common, I’m not sure that this is the route to take for these abilities. I’d like this card to… Well, honestly, it could even be colorless, def for three mana, but I wouldn’t mind an uncommon that sets up that kind of mechanic where being tapped or untapped changes characteristics. Whether or not the layers like it is one thing, but having the colored mana cost that nixes one of those colors while it’s on the battlefield is…well, it’s weird, and I’m not sure if I like it at common, or if I like it at all. Okay, that’s not entirely true, I do like it, but if I was leading a set, would this be the kind of thing to have at common? Assuming that color plays a role in the larger environment, I’m uncertain. Again, everything else about this horse is a slam dunk. The hemming and hawing all the same is justified for what this card is actually doing in the rules for me. I might be overthinking this.

@stellarlight13 — Assassin Chiropir

This is something I learned recently because I kinda forgot about it, but someone from the judge applications actually reminded me about it: that “if you do” there should be “when you do” because the ability has a target. Aside from that, this is a really solid ability and I actually like this in the draft shell a lot. It’s really powerful if you can manage to select your targets during attacking and have net gain, but additionally you can take out a planeswalker if you don’t have an opportune attack and sacrifice this poor batsassin. I think this is clever! I also enjoy the notion of having a bat race that’s kinda sneaky murdery without the vampire aspect, and it makes them come into their own. Oh! Also, mechanically, I like how if you’re gonna be a sneaky nerd and give it lifelink, you actually have to manage it carefully in order to benefit because once the damage trigger resolves you won’t have the ability to gain that life back. Anyway.

I think the flavor text is, unfortunately, expository to the point of detriment, despite having that window of interest. We know bats are nocturnal, for sure, and I don’t… Well, this is going to sound harsh, but I mean this from a point of criticism as someone to whom you are pitching this idea: I don’t really care in this moment about the “antisocial nature” and how much of a “myth” they are. I want to know why this Chiropir is attacking this figure. I want to know about their motivation, or their mood, or how they feel in the city, or how the city treats them, and this flavor text reads, well, like a textbook, and I want the important flavor. I know that these bats matter to you from the art direction and I know that there’s heart in how the bat attack was chosen to show that. When a card this strong shows the action, I want you to consider what we don’t know about the action as represented by the card. This is additionally a rare, a card that players will have probably seen after sifted through common cards explaining aspects of the city or world. We can reach a bit more here, and I know there’s more under those wings for me to care about. I do care about this race! I care a lot about this city and the bat-people’s relationship with it! Now show me deeper into the cave with the flavor text. What’s beyond? You’ve got me hooked.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path — Miera Queen (JUDGE PICK)

I was worried about power level, but you know what, I think this is really on the upper end of perfectly awesome. “I’m using my ants to turn you into food, and then I’m the only one able to turn them foods into more ants to eat you with!” Or, “with which to eat you,” but whatever, ants don’t care about grammar any more than they care about anything other than turning you into food. I don’t feel a sense of this race in the greater world, but you know what, I don’t think I have to for this particular card. Why?

Because this is an absolutely amazing top-down design. Stellar, really, the best that you could ask for from a queen. Some might ask to make her a mechanical lord, but that’s not her function: her function is to send ants to make food and make food into ants, and that’s what she does, and without her the colony can’t make more ants or food. Like, that just makes sense! And two of her means double the food harvest, but you won’t get any more ants per food, and that’s an interesting mathematical angle that maybe I’m reading too much into but frankly I don’t care. This card feels exactly like how it should. The “Miera” (heh, I’m picking up what you’re putting down) are probably deep and complex and ant-y and have a role on this plane, but here, they’re just ants, through and through, and this is a great go-to example of top-down design. Well, once you change “Food” to “Foods” in the second ability. I know, I know, but that’s the terminology.

@wolkemesser — Chelonian Shore-Chief

I swore I had seen that name on a card, “Chelonian,” because it was an equipment, right? It was the Chelonian Morningstar—but then I remembered, that’s from Kingdom of Loathing, the other game, and not this one. So! I think that this card is interesting as a corner case. The mechanical wariness I have is that it’s kind of a Ward Lord, and there’s nothing wrong with that as a one-off, but would that be the theme of a set? How much ward as-fan do you want? Maybe this card can be a random build-around, and you know what, whatever, I’m not NOT a fan of that. There’s not much ward in the world right now but that’s okay if you want to make more of it.

Flavorfully… Well, I don’t get too much out of the world here, but imagining a race of turtle-people with this kind of protective magic isn’t that hard, so I’m down, I suppose. Again, this card isn’t pushing the envelope, but the tropes that it’s playing into aren’t lighting me up, and as far as functionality goes, everything is solid enough. I think the question in this case is, as much as I’m not sure how to answer: how could this card have been made into a winner? And honestly, I don’t know exactly. In terms of uniqueness, there were a couple turtles, and the most commendable one was a surprise feel for how turtles should go. So here’s a suggestion, if this is indeed the commentary you’re looking for, considering that the rest of the bases are covered: when you have a couple cards that meet expectations, find ways to subvert them. Find something surprising, something different, because sometimes that’s the place that’ll create a breakthrough.

Alrighty! Thank you all for your entries. Enjoy creating, and thank you for reading, and as always you can message me here or on Discord for further clarification.

- @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #group commentary #animal race contest #inventor's fair

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pallasperilous · 3 years

Text

Occursus

Castiel/Dean Winchester Gen/Teen, 4341 words 15x20 coda AO3 version “The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” Cas says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.”

Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. “Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes. “It was a poor analogy. I apologize.” “So what’s a better one?” Castiel drums his fingers for a second. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.” “Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

It’s half past midnight by the time Dean gets another run at Cas.

Granted, what the fuck does half past midnight even mean here, where time is as free as tap water? Why does anybody even bother? For all it matters, Dean could set his watch to eleventy minutes past twenty o’ nope and still never miss last call.

Then again, somebody felt it necessary to invent the idea of Tuesday in the first place, and Dean’s not gonna volunteer himself for the task of replacing it with something better. What’s important is that he’s survived (or rather, he hasn’t survived) a battery of poignant moments and tearful reunions. He and Sam hugged out burdens registering in the triple digits. They even had a little fight, pretty much for the fun of it, while Ellen fucking Harvelle watched them over the bar with her eyes shining. She still charged them, though.

Right at the beginning of the party Dean and Castiel had their eyes-across-the-room thing, followed by the same magnetic, exhausted embrace they’ve shared on just about every plane of reality now. Dean supposes he could ask Cas for a nickel tour of the Empty just so they could hit for the cycle, but he’d really rather not. Sam let them eke out a few gruff, tear-choked monosyllables before diving in, sweeping Cas up in a bear hug and laughing like a fucking kid. Dean doesn’t push it, because it’s been longer for Sam, after all. Or something.

And now it’s quiet, just the jukebox and the clink of glasses back in the kitchen, a few folks murmuring in booths. It might be dark outside, it might not; it’s waiting on Dean’s opinion before it commits to anything. And so is Cas, who is standing in the warm glow of the jukebox, hands in his pockets.

Dean walks up, leans against it, bottle still dangling from one hand.

“C’mon, sunshine. I’ll show you yours, you show me mine.”

Cas looks up and into Dean’s eyes with the wary, elegant patience of a deer. “What is it that you would be showing me, Dean?”

Dean gives him a long, languid blink and bites his lip, and Castiel lags for half a second before rolling his own eyes. “I see death hasn’t refined your sense of humor.”

“Nope. Guess the billionth time aint the charm.”

Cas remains stonefaced, which means a corresponding you dumbass blush starts crawling up the sides of Dean’s neck. The jukebox switches records like it’s making a suggestion.

“I’m gonna sit down outside,” Dean says. “C’mon and sit down with me. There’s a patio somewhere, right? Ellen was always talking about adding one out back. No way she hasn’t bossed somebody into buildin’ it.”

“There’s a patio,” Cas says, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Heaven’s patio is pretty nice; twenty square feet, some scattered picnic tables, fences covered in ivy and string lights. It still smells like fresh pine boards. There’s even a fire pit, which seems kinda bougie for the Roadhouse, but hell with it, it’s warm and pretty, and since when did pretentious people get to lay claim to “a hole with a fire in it”? There’s no moon overhead, and so the Milky Way is giving them the full monty — the runnelled spine of it, the ribcage packed with galaxies.

“Are they all alive?” Dean asks. The warmth from inside leaks out of his collar, wisps away.

“Who?”

Dean points up. “The stars. They always make a big deal about how most of the stars you can see from Earth have been dead for millions of years by the time we get the light from ‘em. That still true here? Or is everything on auto-renewal?”

“That’s a very complicated question,” Cas says, not looking up, only at Dean. He does that a lot, Dean knows, but it turns out to mean something different than what Dean had always assumed, which was ironically pretty similar to what it actually meant, but was reassuringly unactionable and therefore unfuckupable.

“I’m a very complicated guy,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “I don’t actually know the answer,” he admits. “And it would take an extremely long time to investigate. There are some other things I’d rather do first.”

“What, you can’t just call the kid for directory assistance?”

Castiel lets a good-humored sigh. “Like many young people these days, Jack prefers to avoid the phone.”

This is a solid riff, and Dean respects it. He picks the table closest to the fire and takes a bench and Cas sits next to him, instead of opposite. Dean thought he managed to break him of this habit a few years ago, but here all things are made whole again.

“So what,” Cas says, without a single molecule of playfulness or seduction, “is it that you want us to show each other?”

“Yeah, I was…it was a dumb joke. But I mean it, just not in a ‘playing doctor’ way.”

Castiel frowns, tightens his lips; the firelight throws a fluttering shadow across his face.

“I mean…Christ.” Dean takes a medicinal slug of his dwindling beer. “I don’t really look like this anymore either, right?” And he gestures at his usual shitshow personal presentation, which death has also noticeably failed to refine.

Castiel frowns, smoothes his hand across the surface of the table. “This is a corporeal world, Dean. It operates on a different set of rules, but your body here is no more of an illusion than it was on earth.”

“Seriously?” Dean ponders a second, squints through the dim light at his fingernails, at the high-resolution grime contained therein. “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work. At least compared to Holodeck Heaven.”

“It is. But we didn’t build this place to be a...a…doorprize. It’s a real world,” Castiel enthuses, looming forward. “It’s the one that should have been created for all of you in the first place.” He pauses, glances down. “For all of us.”

Dean shrugs. “Okay, so no holograms. I’ll keep all that in mind next time Charlie tries to convince me to go skydiving.”

Castiel snorts, but not in pure aggravation, so Dean feels like he’s finally got a point on the board. “What I’m sayin’ is…physical or not, this place has different rules, right? So could I look at you without my eyeballs exploding? The…you know, the angel parts of you. Not just your vessel,” and Dean fwippies his hand at Cas to indicate that true beauty is contained within and Dean is completely indifferent to the fact this dork-ass alien managed to bodysnatch a guy who’s never dipped below an 8.5.

“It isn’t a vessel anymore. We can create our own bodies, now.”

“Peachy,” Dean clips, because that shit is a little late coming off the line.

Castiel sighs. “You could see me in that form without coming to harm. But you should know that I don’t consider it any more a reflection who I am than this form. Not anymore.”

Dean rolls the bottle towards him, nudges a knuckle. “You’re a real boy now, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel says, and smiles a smile so small that Dean would need a microscope to figure out if it’s pleased or pained.

So Dean thwacks the bottle down on the totally-real table and claps his totally-real hands. “Well then let’s go. Hit me with that angel weirdness. If we’re gonna do this, I gotta taste all thirty-one flavors.”

Castiel smiles a little more convincingly, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are really only the two,” he says, and holds his palms out to the warmth of the fire.

“Great, then we’ll be done in time to catch Letterman. Then if you’re good maybe you can help me shimmy out of this thing.”

Cas cocks his head. “Out of which thing?”

“This super real heavenly meat-suit, dude. It’s not fair if only one of us gets naked. Peep show has to go both ways. I see your angel-face, you see my soul.”

Cas looks stricken, like Dean is asking to suck on his toes next to a playground. “I mean, unless that’d fuck you up,” Dean adds.

“No,” Castiel replies, a little absently. “It wouldn’t fuck me up. But it…wouldn’t really accomplish anything, either.”

“What, no soul kink? That’s bullshit and you know it. You love this crap.”

Castiel replies, “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” with the easy confidence of a regular latte order. With the same uncanny, 2 Blessed 2 B Stressed face he had when Dean plowed Ruby’s knife hilt-deep into Jimmy Novak’s sternum, that he had when the Empty collapsed him like a carcass in an acid bath.

That face shuts Dean right the fuck up, because it sends him skipping backwards into that fucking basement, where his phone is buzzing and the gritty concrete chill of the floor is seeping through his jeans into the useless meat of his legs and leeching into the hot, wet channels of his piece of shit heart.

Turns out you can work up a good little panic attack in heaven, which seems like a significant oversight.

From a million miles away he feels Cas’s warm, dry palm slide over the back of his hand –– there’s a ring there now that Dean lost down a motel sink drain ages ago, is nobody spotting continuity errors here?—then Cas’s hand tightens on his and it feels like a Xanax kicking in. (The good kind, direct from the hot nurse with the little paper cup, not the kind you get in a from a shady burnout at a truckstop, that’s been ground up with baking soda or benadryl and carefully remolded, as if you could possibly give that much of a shit when you’re freaking out bad enough to buy Xanax at a truckstop.)

Point being, he calms the fuck down.

Cas has good hands. They can do a lot of impressive shit, and they look nice doing it. They don’t look like –– they’ve never looked like –– they belong to somebody whose main job is destroying people, places, or things. They’re hands that how to play the cello, or make tables from reclaimed wood, or give soapy, encompassing handjobs in the shower on cold evenings.

“It’s been years, though,” Dean rasps, not looking up yet. “I was a kid when you got me out of Hell, Cas. I’ve done a lot of shit since then. Maybe souls get stretch marks.”

Castiel’s hand tightens on his, clamps it down on the table. “I’ve always been able to see it.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, but Cas keeps on going –

“The only time I couldn’t see any part of your soul was when I was without grace, and I promise you that was one of the greatest deprivations imaginable.”

Dean snorts, looks away, but his hand is still on lockdown. “Worse than going hungry, huh?”

“Much.”

“Hey, what about Sam? Or, hell, fucking Donatello. They both were both walking around minus their creamy filling, and you didn’t say boo.”

Cas shrugs. “I can’t see their souls under ordinary circumstances.”

“So what, mine’s just extra loud, or day-glo, or what?”

“It’s both of those things, but that isn’t why,” Cas answers, and the boy is downright wry.

Dean tugs his hand out, raps his knuckles against the wood. “Okay, so stop bein’ coy and tell me before I get a complex. And if you say it’s because of love or some shit, I’m bailing to Rowena’s.”

“You infected me,” Cas says.

“Uh,” says Dean.

The fire pops and a log shifts; Cas glances over at the kerfuffle, absently lifts his fingers to his chin like he’s looking for an old scar. “In Hell, when I retrieved you…I had to grip your raw soul. I was meant to wear a gauntlet, so I wouldn’t be burned.”

Dean snickers. “You’re telling me you were supposed to be wearing a soul condom. What happened, you get too excited and forget to suit up? It’s okay, I know I’m a lot to take in.”

Castiel purses his lips. “No, I was properly armored. But my arm was torn off in combat shortly before I reached you.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Cas agrees. “I didn’t have time to retrieve the arm or its protection from the pit, so I had to grow a new one very quickly.”

Dean really should’ve switched to whiskey before starting this. “What, you didn’t pack a spare?” He wheezes.

“Ordinarily, yes, I would have had the resources, but I was equipped very lightly for that mission. It was a raid, not a siege. You understand the difference.”

“Sure, yeah, you left your emergency arms in the trunk. So you just popped out a new one. No big.”

“It was a big. Your soul was close enough that it forced me to grow a human arm, instead of a much quicker and more powerful extensor.”

“Okay, uh,” Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose, “there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“What part of it confuses you?”

“I dunno, the bit where apparently angels are I guess heavenly octopuses,”

“The plural in the Greek is octopodes,” Cas interjects, not without pleasure.

Dean glowers. “Or the part where you can apparently swap in different drill bits,” Dean continues,

“Mm,” Cas notes, careful not to open his mouth,

“Or that I, like, accidentally bullied you into growing a person arm,” and Dean pauses for breath here, which Cas evidently takes as permission to dive in with more Planet Earth commentary.

“The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” he says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two.

“Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes.

“It was a poor analogy. I apologize.”

“So what’s a better one?”

Castiel drums his fingers for a second, listens to the fire pop in its little cage. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.”

“Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

“What I’m trying to avoid saying,” Castiel sighs, “is that you rubbed off on me.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that around me, either.” He lays a couple little pats on Cas’s hand. “Lookit you, though, seeing around that corner. I’m proud of you, man. That would’ve totally flipped your breaker back in the day.”

“Just one of the many ways you have reshaped me, Dean,” Cas says, with warm sarcasm.

“Alright, so you rawdogged me, I whammied you. Chocolate, peanut butter, peanut butter, chocolate.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles in skepticism. “I still prefer the cockroach. But some part of your soul injected itself into one of my more exposed frequencies. Under different circumstances, I would’ve stopped and excised the affected area before it spread, but. I was being pursued, and the mission had taken much longer than any of us anticipated.”

“Us? Thought it was just you down there.”

Cas looks vaguely offended, straightens and folds his arms like he just remembered he’s giving a deposition. “No, of course not. Michael assigned sixty-six angels in eleven groups of six, each escorted to the field by a seraph. We struck simultaneously at six different areas in perdition. From there we dispersed to individual targets –– to cause as much chaos as possible in order to help obscure the object of our mission, and to increase the odds that one of us would actually find you.”

“And you were the lucky winner.” Dean pushes down a touch of sick shame at the thought of it — he’d been coiled up like a snake around somebody else’s torment, anesthetized by it. It was one of the random rags of infernal time where his own pain decreased in proportion to how much he dealt out, and that was the closest thing Hell had to a Friday night.

“I was,” Castiel nods. “I took some liberties with my assignment,” he adds, squinting. “I flattered myself that I shared a special affinity with The Righteous Man.”

“That guy always sounded like kind of a cunt to me,” Dean notes. “You know, not withstanding the fact that I’m him.”

Castiel shrugs. “I found you, and I did what was necessary to save you, and my siblings did what was necessary to save me.” A little falter enters his voice. “Only twelve of us returned from that mission.” Cas looks up, out, away. A dove coos somewhere nearby of the Roadhouse; did it have a run-in with the windshield of an eighteen wheeler one day and show up here, Dean wonders, or does heaven make its own birds from scratch? That’s gotta be a softball compared to whether Betelgeuse is still open for business.

Castiel waits until the bird shuts up, then says, “Of those twelve surviving angels, I personally murdered nine, in everything that followed.”

After a moment Dean says “Yeah,” with practiced neutrality. He’s got some similar tallies, written in Sharpie on the back of his eyelids.

Cas sighs and his attention comes back down to the table. “By the time I received the authority to restore your soul to your body, the infection had spread almost past the point of containment. That’s why I resisted taking a vessel at first. I worried that occupying a human form would speed up the process.”

“Hey now. I thought you showed up naked because you thought I’d be one of those special people,” Dean quips, “Who can handle angel stuff without going all kibbles ’n bits.”

“That was only a partial truth.”

Dean tips the beer bottle in salute. “You’re a real special flavor of asshole, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. I was right, though. When I took Jimmy as a vessel, I contracted — condensed — myself very severely. The infection had a much shorter distance to travel to reach all of my extremities, and a human form was the most hospitable environment possible.”

“You got a raging case of the Deans.”

Cas’s head kicks back in a laugh that kinda surprises them both. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I did. I was very displeased, and very concerned I’d be found out and judged unfit for duty. And I very much was. Unfit, that is. Though I was not found out.”

“C’mon, never? You went rogue on the company.”

“Uriel suspected. Naomi certainly detected it later, as did Metatron. But in the moment, no. The Host’s attention was focused on the Apocalypse ahead, not on debriefing a mission that was considered a success. After the Cage was closed, I had too much influence to come under that level of scrutiny.”

“Hmh.” Dean realizes he’s been systematically picking down the label on the beer bottle, so he sets it on the ground before he gets sticky little shreds everywhere. “So I gotta ask. My little souvenir, the handprint. That’s where you grabbed me, with your lil…Mister Potato Head human arm?”

“It is.”

“If I’m the one who infected you, how come I’m the one who got burned?”

“My hand didn’t burn you.”

“Well, it ain’t fingerpaint.”

“Your own soul burned it, as it flowed out of your flesh and into mine. It burned until the moment when I finally released you from my grip. My hand healed itself; your arm did not.” Castiel gives a thin scoff. “I hadn’t planned to leave you interred.”

“Oh, no? Well that’s nice to hear, you know, a decade after the fact. I still have nightmares about that shit.”

Castiel winces. “It’s no excuse, but I was in a great deal of…the equivalent of pain. It took an immense effort to break off the inflow of your soul, and when I did manage it, I was thrown quite a ways by the recoil. By the time I recovered enough to return, you were already looting a gas station,” He finishes, dryly.

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t think much of leisure as a virtue. Also I was thirsty, because I’d just crawled out of my own grave.”

“And I was distracted, because I’d just fought my way out of the inferno while being digested by a demented human soul.”

“You wanna call it even?”

Cas lifts his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

There is a long, dark breath, during which their little smiles fade.

“So, all that,” Dean says, because he’s a fucking coward.

“All that,” says Cas, because he isn’t.

Dean clears his throat. “That means you can see my soul-stuff 24/7, huh?”

Castiel slides one leg up onto the bench, shifts to sit astride it, like he’s maybe about to deliver an after-school PSA on the Real Deal About Drugs. “I can always see myself, and extensions of my self. And since your soul made itself into an integral part of me…I can see you.”

“I take it that’s not exactly in the manual.”

“No. I didn’t entirely understand it at first — for a long time, I convinced myself it was because you were designed to be a celestial vessel, and that I had been destined to save you from Hell.”

That thin, acidic feelings starts to rise up in Dean’s chest again. “Do you…” A dry swallow reflex grabs his throat. “Hm. Fuck.”

“What?” Cas asks, scooting forward. An angel. Scooting. What a world. “You can ask me anything, Dean. I hope we’re both past being offended.”

“Have you ever thought that. This whole deal. Our…thing.” Dean lets out a breath. “The way you feel about me. The way I feel about you.”

“Do I worry that its only basis is our shared material?”

Dean licks his lips, works a jaw muscle, forces out a nod.

Cas frowns, sets one elbow up against the table, then lets his head tip to the side. “Why do you love Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I get it, he’s my brother. We got shared material, too. But we’re not talking genetics.”

“Genes were the initial basis of your love for Sam. But you share half as much material with Adam. Do you love him fifty percent as much as you do Sam?”

“One, love doesn’t work that way and you know it, and two, fucking of course not. I barely know the guy, and what I’ve seen didn’t exactly blow me away.” Not that the poor dumb kid ever really had a chance. “Sam’s Sam, he’s earned it a million times over just by bein’ him.”

“Then you understand.”

“But Cas, man…I…” Dean laughs, which is an abbreviated form of screaming, “I treated you like shit.”

Cas nods. “You did.”

“Okay, the rules say you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“But the balance remains in your favor. Dean, are you genuinely afraid that you — care for me…” and Dean can hear the FCC live-bleep in that one, like does his total cowardice have a special color Cas can see with his soul-o-vision? “Only out of some compulsion?”

“No,” Dean says, to the great surprise of his frontal cortex, which was busy kicking the shit out of itself. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that that answer actually came out of him and entered the living air between them.

Then the wave is rolling towards him and he enters that slim moment of body-physics where you either take a lungful and commit to diving under the break, or you kick out against the undertow, arch your back to meet the blow, and let yourself be flown all the way up to the waiting shore––

“No,” Dean says, “I love you.” And he chokes up a little, first at the release of saying it, then at how much of exactly jack-shit it changes anything so what was he even scared of, and then at the look on Cas’s face: how he’s frozen. Like that dog from that video, the one that loved tennis balls so goddamn much that his owner bought him a thousand fucking tennis balls and dumps them out all at once and the dog absolutely stalls the fuck out, just seconds on end of underspecced dog-brain hang time before he finally snaps back to reality and loses his absolute shit scrabbling all over the porch.

Castiel comes back online with a little choking noise of his own, and a kind of awkward scrabble for Dean’s hand.

“I have for a long time,” Dean continues, because apparently he’s continuing, “I’ve loved you for fucking ages, Cas. In people years, anyway, I’m sure that mean’s fuckall to somebody who’s a zillion––”

“I don’t,” Cas says thickly, “really give a damn about the age difference, Dean,” and cracks into a chuckle.

“So how come you never knew it?” Dean asks, feeling freedom turn into a hunger or something like vertigo. “If you can see my soul, how could you not know?”

Cas shrugs, a bit helplessly.

“Seriously,” Dean laughs, “how did I manage to hide that shit so well? Sammy found every nudie mag I ever shoplifted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never actually been able to hide anything from me.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, man. I snowed you plenty, or else we woulda had this conversation dirtside a long time ago.”

“Whatever I missed, Dean…it wasn’t because you succeeded at hiding it,” Castiel says, softly. He takes a slow, shaky breath, and meets Dean’s eyes with a smile. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face, bone and flesh on flesh and bone. “I just loved you enough to look away.”

It’s a long time before they go back inside. By any measure. {AO3}

#spn fanfiction #spn 15x20 #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #bless you all for your sexy and angsty coda fics please enjoy this massive wodge of angel lore wankery dating back 11 seasons

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makeste · 4 years

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this is pretty random and you don't need to answer it, haha, but could you share your personal hcs regarding platonic todobaku with me??? 🥺🥺🥺 i'm in need, LOL, and your takes on characterization and relationships on bnha are always so spot on, so... i hope you're having a good day/night!!!!!!!💖💖💖

thank you so much! sorry it took a while to gather all of these; my TodoBaku headcanons weren’t as immediately forthcoming as my general Baku headcanons were. but here goes. the first half of these ended up being more just my general thoughts about their relationship than actual headcanons, but I eventually steered myself back on track.

first of all, this is important to note: when Katsuki says in ch. 241 that “there’s no correlation between time spent [together] and friendship”, it’s not purely out of denial. this is something he genuinely believes, having learned it the hard way growing up. for someone who seemingly led a pretty charmed life for most of his childhood, Katsuki hasn’t actually had a particularly sunshiny experience when it comes to his friendships. all of his closest childhood friends eventually left him (Tsubasa), turned on him (Deku -- from his perspective lol. obviously this wasn’t actually the case at all, but it’s how he interpreted it, and it definitely had a big impact on him emotionally), or abandoned him (that long-fingered kid, who notably fled and never looked back when the sludge monster tried to eat Katsuki back in chapter one. like, thanks for nothing, my dude).

so it’s not surprising that all of these experiences would have a profound impact on Katsuki’s ability to trust other people and accept them as real, genuine friends. in its own way his childhood was almost as isolating as Deku and Shouto’s. it’s only since coming to U.A. that he’s started to make real friends again for the first time since kindergarten. and even then, in the case of Kirishima and Kaminari and Sero, even though I think he does consider them friends, he still isn’t very open with them. because he’s learned the hard way that that can lead to hurt, and I think he’s very hesitant to ever let himself be vulnerable to that again.

but having said all that, Shouto is still absolutely correct when he says that they’re friends. and the thing is Katsuki knows it too, but he’s just reluctant to admit it. partly because the part of his brain that processes everything as rivalry isn’t sure whether Being Friends With Shouto = Losing To Shouto (IS THIS A TRAP??), and partly because of everything else I just explained above. even though by this point he knows Shouto pretty well, well enough to be reasonably sure he’s not just gonna be another fakeass groupie who turns tail at the first sign of trouble, there’s still a part of him that’s hesitant to admit that connection is there, because doing so opens him up to potentially being hurt again at some point. goddammit. why is this shit so complicated.

meanwhile on Shouto’s side of things, this poor lil bubba never had any friends growing up to begin with, so he’s not nearly as paranoid or prickly as Katsuki is. instead, he’s still discovering for himself just what friendship is all about. the interesting thing about Shouto is that since he never had any childhood friendships, in a way, the friendships that he’s making now at U.A. are his childhood friendships. and so they tend to be straightforward and uncomplicated in much the same way that very young children’s friendships are uncomplicated. “I like this person; I am going to make them my friend.” boom. done. friendship is mad easy yo.

and he does like Katsuki! sure, his personality is a bit unconventional, but there’s a lot to admire about him even so, and they actually have a lot in common! they’re both rather introverted. they’re both very serious, and I think this is something that Shouto particularly appreciates, because jokes and idioms and playful insincerity sometimes fly over his head just because he doesn’t have a lot of experience dealing with other people. but Katsuki NEVER jokes around, and he is never insincere. he says what he means, with the exception of insults, which are 90% more bark than bite. and so once Shouto figured that out, it became very easy to figure out how to interact with him. aside from that, they’re both close with Shouto’s Other Best Friend Midoriya, they both have incendiary quirks, and they both tend towards the quiet side (yes, even Katsuki) with the occasional burst of hotheadedness (maybe a bit more than “occasional” when it comes to Katsuki’s end).

and like I said, there’s a lot that Shouto admires about Katsuki as well. he really respects how determined Katsuki is, because he himself lacked any sort of clear goals for quite a while growing up. all he knew was that he didn’t want to end up being like his dad. but Katsuki is someone who has always known what he wants, and he goes after it with a singlemindedness that Shouto is almost envious of. he’s also very intelligent and quick-thinking, and Shouto knows he can rely on him in a tight spot. he’s also honest, and surprisingly principled, and while he’s definitely not the nicest guy around, I think Shouto can recognize to some degree those same types of walls that he once spent so much time building up around himself. and so he knows that to a certain extent, Katsuki’s hostility is just a front. and I think he’s both intrigued by that, and drawn to it. because every so often when Katsuki’s guard does drop and his better self briefly shines through, Shouto can see that he’s someone worth getting to know.

anyways, but enough of my rambling about their relationship, and on to the actual headcanons. first of all, I firmly believe in my heart of hearts that at some point during all of those mentally and physically taxing weekends spent training for their provisional exam, they have each fallen asleep on the other’s shoulder during the ride home. Katsuki was actually the first to do it, and it was only for a couple of minutes, but when he woke up he was absolutely mortified. but much to his relief, Shouto never said another word about it. (and if Shouto still remembers the warm, cozy feeling in his chest during those few brief minutes when Katsuki was dead to the world, with his face smoothed out and completely trusting and his breathing strangely in rhythm with the movement of the car, and if doing so brings him a sense of calm that’s hard to describe, well then, that’s no one’s business but his own.)

anyway, so because life is Just Like That, eventually of course the reverse happened. and with anyone else, Katsuki would have violently shoved them aside without a second thought, and he was almost gonna do the same here, but then he remembered he owed him (because he really did keep his mouth shut about the earlier incident, thank fuck), and so he didn’t. for almost two whole minutes, anyway. whatever. that’s more than generous, really. meanwhile no one else knows about this except for Aizawa, who was chaperoning them that day, and took mild notice at first on account of it being unusual behavior on Katsuki’s part, but then immediately forgot about it afterwards. he was proud of them both for upping their napping game, though. he respects naps.

both Shouto and Katsuki were actually scared shitless during the test of courage at the forest training camp, and if Katsuki hadn’t been kidnapped and everything had instead gone on as normal, they would have both had trouble getting to sleep that night. Katsuki actually can’t stand scary movies or ghost stories (fyi this is canon according to the third light novel, and EXCUSE HIM FOR HAVING A HEALTHY RESPECT FOR THE SUPERNATURAL. you wanna go and get your own dumb ass cursed or dragged to hell or whatever, BE HIS GUEST). whereas Shouto has next to no experience with them and doesn’t really see what’s so scary about ghosts because GHOSTS AREN’T REAL DUH, but even he feels a little unsettled when an undead swamp girl suddenly rises from the depths and crabwalks towards them in the middle of the woods.

Katsuki has on rare occasions been so drained by provisional lessons that he goes into autopilot and forgets to pretend not to be friends with Shouto, which can result in them having completely normal conversations for minutes at a time before he eventually regains enough of his senses to realize he’s fraternizing with the enemy. this is how Shouto learned about things like Katsuki’s favorite foods, and his love of hiking. the latter is actually one subject that Katsuki can go on and on about if you get him started, and Shouto very much enjoys hearing about it and never tries to stop him.

by contrast, Katsuki never intentionally seeks to gain any new knowledge about Shouto because he feels like he already knows way more than he ever wanted to. however, this doesn’t stop him from absorbing knowledge against his will by simple osmosis, and then discovering to his dismay that he’s retained the information afterward. this is why he also knows Shouto’s favorite food in return (although to be fair, I think everyone in Japan knows Shouto’s favorite food), as well as other tidbits like the fact that he likes strawberry-flavored things (because he always gets the same brand of strawberry milk from the vending machine during their lunch breaks). he hates himself a little for both noticing and remembering these stupid little details, and would rather be kidnapped again than ever admit to Shouto that he does.

Katsuki thinks of Shouto as “Todoroki” in his head rather than “IcyHot” or “Half n’ Half”, and has to make a conscious effort to use the nicknames whenever he addresses him out loud. more and more often he finds himself forgetting to do so nowadays, much to his dismay. Shouto was pleasantly surprised the first few times it happened, but quickly stopped taking notice of it, as he’s come to realize that the way Katsuki addresses people carries very little meaning regardless, since something like 75% of his actual feelings are conveyed through his actions rather than his words.

Katsuki does wish that Shouto had had the decency to choose his surname as his hero alias rather than his given name, though. he lives in fear that one of these days he’ll be required to call him “Shouto” while on duty. number one hero or not, there’s a good chance he would resign from his internship at the Endeavor Hero Agency before he ever willingly agreed to that.

and last but not least, the number one thing that Katsuki would rather jump in a freezing lake than admit to Shouto or even himself is that he actually cares about him too. and has even mostly forgiven him for wussing out at the last minute during the sports festival. he still doesn’t fully understand why he did it, but he gets that Shouto was Going Through Some Stuff, and okay yeah, he can admit that his family situation is pretty fucked up, so whatever. there’s an uncomfortable feeling he gets whenever he’s reminded of this; sort of a weird, squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever the subject of Endeavor comes up, or whenever he sees Shouto talking to the man himself. it makes him feel restless and on edge, and he never knows what to say or do afterwards, especially if Shouto goes all quiet and sullen and reflective. he wants to scream at him, or slap him on the back of the head, or grab him by the shoulders and shake him; whatever it takes to snap him out of it and ease the tension. but he knows that’s not the right way to handle it. and more to the point, he knows that he’s not the right person to handle it. and sometimes, if he’s not quick enough to squash the feeling when he senses it coming, he wonders how Shouto would react if he ever found out what Katsuki used to be like back in elementary and middle school. and he wonders whether Shouto would still be so dead-set insistent on calling them friends. and then he does squash out the thought, as viciously as he possibly can.

anyway so that turned weirdly angsty towards the end whoops. not even sure what happened there, since this is supposed to be my cute and funny ship, while BakuDeku greedily hogs all the angst for itself! lol my bad. but don’t worry, they still love each other, and Shouto is still fond and soft and equipped with bullshit-radar, and Katsuki is still rabid and in denial and a dumbass.

#bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #todobaku #bnha headcanons #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks

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sophiamcdougall · 4 years

Text

EXPLAINING SANREMO

(PART 1) Last week I was swept away, helpless, by the avalanche that is the Sanremo Song Festival and I am still recovering. For your safety, I’ve tried to keep the insanity contained on my Italian side blog. But I want to try to offer you a rough summary of what I’ve learned. Sanremo inspired the Eurovision Song Contest. Over five nights, 24 acts, each with a brand new song, compete at the Ariston theatre in Sanremo for a tacky little golden lion, and the glory of being the year’s Song for Italy. 2020 marked the 70th Sanremo, so depending on who you ask, it’s a venerable national treasure or it’s stale and embarrassing (Many Italians are sick of it. Or say they are, but see below.) It is also an EPIC STRUGGLE between THE FORCES OF GOOD AND EVIL FOR THE SOUL OF HUMANITY Let’s meet some of the protagonists:

AKA: host Amadeus, entertainer and comedian Rosario Fiorello, il Bel Paese, and competitor Achille Lauro.

Amadeus got things off to a bad start before the show even began by praising his various female co-hosts - all seasoned TV professionals - for their beauty and their ability to stay “a step behind a man.” Outrage ensues, Amadeus claims he did not mean it like that, but keep this in mind for later. Also competing are Morgan (below, left) and Bugo (below, right.), who are performing a duet.

Going in, the one thing I know about Morgan is that on more than one occasion, he trashtalked my beloved and blameless Fabrizio Moro. So I hate him and want him to suffer. And apparently he has quite the reputation for throwing tantrums, picking on fellow-artists and sabotaging events he’s part of. But hey. He’s supposedly talented and Bugo clearly thinks he deserves another chance. And we’re off!

Irene Grandi kicks things off with “Finalmente Io” (“Finally Me”). But I’m starting with her not so much because she’s the first to sing as because I don’t think the song’s got enough attention -- either for the fact that it bangs or for what it represents in the drama that’s about to unfold.

Finalmente Io is what, in the business, we call foreshadowing.

There’s a magical thing that happens to women with when they turn 40. The develop Not-Giving-A-Fuck superpowers. The song is basically about that. It’s about freedom, and self-acceptance, and being 100% done with male bullshit. (It's also a bit of an ADHD anthem but let’s leave that aside for now.) “I’ve lost all my patience, and all my fragility,” she sings.

And, “If you want sex, let’s do it now. Heeeeeeere.”

Irene is the portent everyone misses, a harbinger of what is to come.

Think of her as John the Baptist. Onwards. So the first thing one discovers about the Sanremo Festival is that just because we have to get through 24 “big” acts AND 6 (?) new/junior artists, and they all have to perform multiple times, that doesn’t mean there’s any RUSH. Guest singers wander on and perform a song or ten. There’s comedy. We can stop everything to talk about football. A lady comes on and talks for a million years about how her granny taught her that True Beauty is Found Within. There are also speeches about important subjects like violence against women. In fact, we are going to talk about that a lot, but also a bunch of competent and experienced female TV personalities are stuck taking turns at playing Amadeus’s Glamorous Assistant of the evening and he can’t shut up about how beautiful they all are while they cringe and lean subtly away from him. So it’s ... slow, and awkward, but within its own cheesy terms, things are normal. Too normal. Enter Achille Lauro.

Softly, almost whispering, he begins to sing a song called “Me ne frego” (”I don’t care” - but with an edge of “fuck you”). This is both an everyday Italian expression and a fascist motto. Well, it was till now.

A nation is convulsed. Right-wing Italian boomers are screaming because YOU! CAN’T! DO! THAT! AT! SANREMO! THERE! ARE! CHILDREN! WATCHING! Italian Tumblr, which like the rest of Tumblr is feral, thirsty and gay, is screaming for different reasons entirely.

Achille, you scandalous creature, what have you done? What have you got to say for yourself?

Something strange and magical has released and it cannot be contained. On with the songs. Good songs, bad songs, blah songs. I like “Tikibombom” by Levante - a love letter to weirdos and rebels, “Rosso di Rabbia” (Rage Red) by Anastasio about being, well, angry but scared you can’t do anything useful with it, and “Eden” by Rancore, about... the nature of sin?? touching on everything from September 11 to the mafia to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. However, this contest is being judged (mostly - it’s complicated) by an industry jury of FOOLS, COWARDS, and TRAITORS who KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO, so virtually all of the above artists are so far languishing towards the bottom of the provisional rankings. Achille ends up in 17th place and Rancore at 22.

Truly, the light hath shone in the darkness and the darkness knoweth it not.

LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO RANCORE.

Rapper down, repeat RAPPER DOWN. SEND HELP.

However, for people who went in implacably biased against Morgan, it’s not all bad news. "Sincero” (Sincere) by Morgan and Bugo is in last place. Whether this is anything to do with the song or because Morgan is a nightmare of a person who has systematically alienated everyone in the Italian music industry except the trusting Bugo ... we can but ponder. Sanremo grinds on. Days blur into each other and I’m not even going to try to cover events in exact order. Sanremo knows no order. Sanremo is like the universe, linear time is a construct that doesn’t really exist, and chaos happens very, very slowly. But meanwhile, somewhere on the astral plane:

At least that is what I deduce must have happened.

The competitors and guests look deep within themselves. Do they have what it takes? Are they ready to answer the call?

Let’s see! It’s Covers Night! Which is also Duets Night!

That’s Elettra Lamborghini (yes, that Lamborghini) and Myss Keta.

Are they in tune? No. Does it matter? ALSO NO.

Meanwhile ... something strange is brewing between Amadeus and Fiorello...

But wait, PLOT TWIST.

Enter Roberto Benigni.

The beloved actor and director is the latest avatar of the Dionysian frenzy that has chosen Sanremo 2020 for the place of its birth. He is the One who will unite the electric queer mayhem and the impossible grinding tedium of Sanremo. In him, the two strains will fuse and become unstoppable. He is going to talk about sex for twenty-six minutes

He reads from the Song of Songs, which ... I knew it was sexy, and all, but is it really like that? Do you ever think about NAKED BODIES? Roberto does. Do you believe in PHYSICAL LOVE? Roberto wishes you would. Anyway, just think of all the sex we could all be having, literally right now, right heeeeere, whether we are “a woman, and her man. Or a man and his man. Or a woman, and her woman!” He is awful. He is magnificent. He is excruciating. He is spellbinding. We are hanging on his every word and we are considering chewing our own arms off to escape. He proposes an orgy in the orchestra pit.

Hand on heart, all of that happened. Italian Tumblr, bear witness.

And what of Achille Lauro? He unleashed this madness upon us all, is he just going to sit back and let everyone else do all the work? Of course not. Achille Lauro came to bring not peace, but a sword, to the world of toxic masculinity and gender in general and his work is not yet done.

”I too was once a little girl,” Achille sings.

Dressed as Bowie-as-Ziggy, Achille duets with Annalisa on “Gli Uomini Non Cambiano” - “Men Don’t Change”. It’s a heartbreaking song by Mia Martini from 1992 about male abuse of women, and not a single word, or a single pronoun has been changed.

However, although he’s the one in the competition, and the one dressed to dazzle, he leaves Annalisa the spotlight. It’s like she’s the tortured protagonist of the song and he’s a voice in her head, a sympathetic spirit who can’t swoop in to rescue her but can quietly affirm that she deserves better than the the hellish treatment she’s singing about. in fact, he pointedly stays a step behind her at all times. And she’s majestic.

Of course, he’s not fucking DONE

He’s still got to sing “Me Ne Frego” again. Can he top the cape-drop? You be the judge.

So Italian Tumblr, is now writhing on the carpet, making a sound only bats can hear, and shitposting itself into delirium, but has it all been ENOUGH?

NO.

Poor Rancore has died again. Toxic masculinity still exists. Amadeus is still pretty gross. Everyone is going to have to GAY HARDER. CAN THEY DO IT? This post is, like Sanremo itself, getting insanely long, so ... STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO, in which Fiorello’s true nature as a chaos being is revealed, Amadeus faces his Calvary, and the gun on the stage goes off. ----- UPDATE: Part 2 is here

#Sanremo #Sanremo 2020 #Explaining Sanremo #Achille Lauro #Explaining Sanremo Part 1

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heymacy · 3 years

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Macy Macy Macy, it is I, the one and only Howl at your service to bring you your Howl’s Question Friday questions!! @howlinchickhowl Please don’t look behind the curtai— stop what are you doing!!! Ok it’s Stas don’t expose me!!! Go back to the other side of the curtain!!

Happy Spooky Season!! 🎃👻🍂🧛 Do you have a favorite Halloween costume you’ve ever done? Have you and your wife ever done a couples costume? Do you plan on dressing up as anything this year? (shut up this is totally one question idk what you’re talking about)

When you worked at Starbucks, were there any drinks people would order that you hated? In other words, what are your Starbucks pet peeves from the perspective of a barista? (i.e. “Hi can I please get a latte with no foam?”)

If you could choose one song to play for every person in the world simultaneously like you had the AUX cord for the globe, what song would you play for us? 🌍 (Let’s pretend people have the option to mute it if it’s lyrically or sonically upsetting to them, so don’t stress that part.)

oh hello howl!! (*quietly* hello stas!) 👋🏼

first off, i love that it's becoming a thing now to refer to me as "macy, macy, macy" because in my head i hear 50% scolding and 50% proud-friend, so it's quite the experience for me. y'know, emotionally speaking 😌

1. happy fucking spooky season oh my god!! i've been waiting for this since our first 90 degree day back in...april? i literally live in hell. to answer your question(s): yes, i do! a few years ago, after like 15+ years of talking about doing it but never following through, my family dressed up as the cast of Hocus Pocus. my two sisters and i were the Sanderson sisters (people have always likened us to them during this time of the year, especially me as Winifred lmao), my brother was Billy, my parents were Billy and Thackery's headstones (their costumes needed to be minimal so they could efficiently play host and hostess at our halloween party lmao) and i made a cardboard replica of Winifred's book and made my wife wear it (our reasoning being that Winifred's one true love is her spell book). i even did SFX makeup on their face to match the costume, which they weren't too pleased with. that was my favorite costume of my own and of us as a couple. this year we're dressing up as Michael and Janet from The Good Place because after 8 years of incessant pleading, i've finally broken them, and now they actually enjoy halloween.

2. oh my god okay i might be going back to starbucks soon, i'm just waiting on a phone call to confirm it. but regardless, i could talk about this for literal years. don't get me wrong i actually genuinely love working at starbucks, because people who work at starbucks are literally amazing (i met like 80% of my current friends there). but the customers....the customers!!! the worst in the fucking world, and i've worked in every type of service job imaginable.

here are the dumbest fucking things you could possibly order/do at starbucks:

no foam/light foam cappuccino. a cappuccino is BY DEFINITION primarily foam. a light foam cappuccino is a latte. a no foam cappuccino is a no foam latte you fucking imbeciles. if you don't know what it is don't fucking order it goddammit and don't try to fight me on it either

anyone who blends the dried fruit into their drinks - i hope you choke on a nickel 😌

"absolutely no foam like literally not a drop of foam, i want straight up hot milk over liquified beans because i've never been told no in my entire life" get fucked get fucked get fucked

[car full of teenagers/college kids pulls up to the DT window] "hi! *giggles* oh my god shut up guys i'm trying to order! [laughter] hi! uh, i was -- SHUT UP! -- i was wondering if i could get -- SHH! [laughter] -- if i could get uh, four venti caramel ribbon crunch frapuccinos with extra, extra caramel?" i will curse your fucking bloodline not only are you wasting my fucking time FOUR FRAPUCCINOS? AND THE MOST COMPLICATED ONES? AND EXTRA //EXTRA// CARAMEL? please do not reproduce 😌

extra caramel is fine. extra extra caramel, alright i like you a little bit less. "caramel walls" i will stab you 🔪

if you ask for a pour-over during rush, choke. if you ask for a pour-over during rush of a type of coffee we already have brewed in the urns and ready to go because you "like a stronger brew", die.

also please note: none of the pet peeves apply if you're nice. if you're really, really nice, if we like you, it doesn't matter. if you're needy and picky, acknowledge it. make fun of yourself for it. apologize every time. we may not love you, but if you're nice to us, we'll like you. and we don't fuck with people we like, so, it's in everyone's best interests lmao (except the last one - go straight to hell you sick fuck)

oh one more thing THE SECRET MENU DOES NOT EXIST!!! IT DOES NOT EXIST!!! IT’S ALL MADE UP!!! I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT WHEN YOU ASK FOR AN “ARIANA GRANDE FRAPPUCCINO” I LITERALLY HATE YOU

alright now on to the angelic, godlike behaviors:

if you order an iced chai tea latte at any point in time but especially during a rush, i will kiss you on the mouth. (with consent, of course, and proof of vaccination. this is a plague after all)

if you leave a tip, even if you just toss your change in the tip jar, i will hug the fuck out of you. tips aren't great at most stores, but sometimes the $27 i got in tips for the week was what fed me, so it makes a difference

black coffee drinkers 😍 or coffee drinkers who put their own cream & sugar in their coffee at the condiment bar 😍 but especially, especially coffee drinkers who put their own cream & sugar in their coffee at the condiment bar and clean up after themselves, oh my god. angels. heaven-sent. i worship you.

if you say something like "hi! how are you?" or "what's up?" or "good morning!" when you order instead of just walking up and being like "can i get _____" i will fall in love with you.

3. Cotton Eye Joe, because i'm a slut for chaos.

this was fun, and it’s very on brand of me to get angry & emotional and not know when to shut up, hmm? howl & stas my beloveds i hope you’re both having amazing days 🥺🥰💛

#answered #howlinchickhowl #howl’s question friday

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iamdunn · 3 years

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Miraculous Flash Forward part 4: Emelie Agreste

A Miraculous Fan-fic

Written by

AJ Dunn

Adrien made his way through the hospital to the private wing. He hadn’t slept as he rushed out of his apartment with nothing but an overnight bag. Which, he was now carrying because he couldn’t be bothered to stop at the Graham De Vanily manor before seeing his mother. How long had she been in a coma? He was still wearing his Loashi uniform, his yi-fu.

“Adrien,” Amelie called from the hall. “She’s been slipping in and out. The doctors want to try an experimental procedure but you have to be the one to agree to it.” She rushed her words as Adrien took a minute to process them.

“They think they can flush her bloodstream with your blood.” Felix stepped in. he maintained his calm demeanor as Amelie babbled on frantically. “They say there is some sort of… pollutant in her system and they might be able to but we needed you here being her biological son and all.” Adrien gulped.

“Is she awake now.” he peeked through the crack in the partially opened door. He could hear the beeping of the heart monitor and the pumping of the tubes pumping air into her lungs.

“No, she came alert only a few times since I called you.” Felix stiffened as the doctor stepped up behind Adrien.

“Let me take your bags, honey.” Amelie snatched his bag and went to sit down in the room.

“Mr. Agreste?” the doctor asked

“Adrien,” He corrected “I don’t care my father’s name.” he hoped his mother couldn’t hear him. She had no idea what has been going on since she went into a coma. The things her husband did. A stone of emotions hardened in his heart.

We would like to take a blood sample to make sure you are a match.” The doctor said looking confused as his eyes switched between him and Felix. “And you two are twins right?” Adrien let out a small chuckle in his throat.

“Cousins,” Felix said flatly

“Let’s get a sample from each of you, it’s possible because your mothers are identical twins, that you two could have reverse DNA.” Felix lifted an eyebrow. “This is very complicated but the simple explanation is, your mothers each share 100% of your grandparents’ DNA. Amelie doesn’t have the same blood type as Emelie, but they both carry the same genes, meaning you could have either or. Emelie has B, Amelia has A.”

“So you’re saying, that even though she is my mother, I might now be a match but Felix might.” Adrien fumed.

“Or you both might be.” He looked, “You two look more alike than Amalie and Emelie.” he seemed amused at the striking resemblance between the cousins. “Come with me, I’ll take you to the lab. Adrien hated needles but at least he didn’t nearly have to strip for the phlebotomist to have access to his veins as did the sharp-dressed three-piece suit Felix. He chuckled to himself as he watches his cousin buttoning up the shirt and restoring the tie to its proper fit. It would have been so much easier if his shirt would have been a bit looser he could have lifted one sleeve up over his elbow, but no, Felix demanded his shirts to fit nearly skin tight.

“You might as well be wearing a Cat Noir suit with how tight your suit is.” Adrien laughed

“Shut up.” Felix fastened the sleeve buttons. “I left that at home.” He lifted a smirk to his cousin who, he knew hadn’t gotten one yet as they weren’t yet on the market. Adrien’s face fell.

“How.” He demanded.

“Apparently Luka and I have the same measurements, I have the model one.” He smirked walking past Adrien. Wait that means him and Luka as well. Adrien was a bit more muscular now than his cousin, so he might not be the same size anymore.

They walked back to the room in silence. Just outside the door, he grabbed Felix by the arm.

“What do I say to her?” he asked his cousin. Felix wasn’t run on his emotions as Adrien was. He had a more practical mind and Adrien needed that right now. Felix put his hands on Adrien’s shoulders.

“If she wakes up, you say nothing about Gabriel,” he demanded. “He was on another business trip and we were unable to reach him.” that sounded just like him too. They walked into the room. The hum of the machines and the dimly lit room felt ominous to Adrien. His heart stalled in his chest as he watched hers rise and fall. Her frail frame lay under a thin blanket with her hands crossed peacefully over her waist. With an IV in her right arm.

He walked closer to her sitting in the chair to her left he rested his head on the edge of the mattress. It seemed like forever as they sat there in silence before a noise came from Amalie.

“Well, you look…” Amelie smiled as Adrien looked up at her. “Nice in that what is it called?”

“Yi-fu.” he told her. “I have been made a Laoshi, a teacher.” he rested his head back down.

“What do you teach?” She continued. Amelie never was one to sit in silence for long. It made her nervous.

“Kung Fu.” Adrien sat upright in his chair knowing more questions would come.

“Ah, I see.” She looked up at him then shifted her eyes away. “You look like you have filled out in the shoulders, you must have built up some muscles.” Indeed he had. “I bet your teacher is very proud of you.” She smiled. Adrien hadn’t even told Felix yet.

“He died. Yesterday, as I sat by his bedside.” he looked down at his mother laying so cold beside him. He missed his mother, though he didn’t remember much about her except her kindness and care for him. Amelie got up and left the room after another long stretch of silence.

“It’s been hard on her,” Felix said. “After years of believing her sister dead, only to find out…” he stopped himself knowing the direction this conversation would lead.

“Do you think she can hear?” Adrien asked. “Do you think she knows what he did to her?”

“If she can hear us now, then she could hear him then,” he said coldly. “So no Adrien, I don’t think she knows. Otherwise, she would have died of heartbreak years ago.” Hours passed in silence before the doctor returned.

“May I speak with you two privately?” they both followed him to a small empty waiting room. “There’s no easy way to say this. But you have the right to know. You are twins.” the words came out but they felt foreign as Adrien and Felix exchanged confused and shocked glances. “Your DNA is identical and you are identical twins, and I compared your DNA to Amelie and Emelie and…”

“What are you saying, Doctor?” Felix demanded. “Amelie is your mother, both…”

“I can explain.” A shattered voice came from behind them as Amelie stepped into the room. “I…” tears began to fall down her face. “I never wanted you to find out like this.”

“I’ll excuse you for a moment.” the doctor turned to leave before Adrien grabbed his wrist.

“My mother.” He said sharply. “Emelie, are we a match?” the doctor nodded. “Then get everything ready.” The doctor left the room. Amelie took a seat on the couch as both boys took seats in front of her. Felix weaved his fingers together as he sat upright and stiff. Adrien slouched forward his face dropping to his hands before looking up at her again.

“You see Adrien, my husband was never home.” Her voice trembled in her throat. “Emelie wanted a child and so did I.” Tears began to well up in her as she dabbed a hanky to her eyes. “I didn’t want to do it but because Emelie was the face of the Agreste brand he would never allow her to carry a child.” Adrien nodded as he recalled how his father controlled everything about Adrien’s life ensuring he was the picture of perfection. “So she came up with a plan because we were so good at switching places.” Adrien felt his jaw tighten. He sensed the unease in Felix as well.

“Enough mother, we don’t need the details.” Felix snapped. He sounded more and more like Gabriel and now they both knew why. “You are telling me that my father is that man who terrorized the world for his own selfish maniacal means?” Felix’s words slapped like a cold wet hand on his face. His eyes shot up to his cousin. Felix bore a look of utter horror as he realized what he had said. Adrien pursed his lips and nodded, they both shared the emotion.

“We agreed that if it was twins, we would each take one. Or try again for another one. But we were sure, we would have twins.” right the Graham De Vanily twin curse. Every generation bore twins. Adrien hung his head. Felix froze in disbelief.

“Why did you wait until now to tell us mother!” Felix snapped. “Were you ever planning on telling us?”

“Yes, until…”

“Until father was arrested?” Adrien snapped up. His words stolen from Felix’s own mouth. They both huffed.

“You two have always been so much alike even now, I see so much of myself and Gabriel in you…

“ENOUGH!” Felix stood up. “I don’t want to hear another word about that monster.” He stormed to the door. He caught himself at the doorway and cast a look back to Adrien, who looked up at him. “I’m sorry, you knew him better than I did, I am sure this hurts you just as much as it does me.” then he left.

“Adrien,” she reached a hand out placing it on his knee. He pulled away from her. “I never wanted you two to find out like this.”

“As soon as they perform the procedure, I will return to Shanhai.” Adrien said coldly. “Don’t concern yourself with me anymore.” He stood and left the room hoping to catch up with the doctor to rush this plan of his.

The good news was, since both the boys were a match for Emelie, the doctor could take equal amounts from each boy rather than draggin the process out over time. Taking more than a quart of blood from one patient wasn’t done. Plus, he could return and Felix could offer more in a month or so.

“I’ll be returning to Paris in the morning.” Felix said after he once again had to remove his shirt. They sat side by side in the lab as two technicians worked on them.

“I’ll be heading back to Shanghai tonight.”

“So soon?” Felix sounded surprised. “I figured we could use a night out.” weird it wasn’t like Felix to consider a night out.

“A night out?” Adrien asked curious about his thought process.

“We’ve never gotten drinks together and well.” Adrien could hear him inhale air sharply as the needle penetrated his arm. “Frankly after today, I feel like getting messed up.”

“So you’ll need someone to carry you home.” Adrien teased.

“That’s just it, I don’t want to go home.” Adrien couldn’t blame him, he didn’t want to go there either. “It wouldn’t be wise to get a flight while drunk Adrien, so join me.” Adrien smiled at him and nodded.

They found a small pub and slipped inside. It wasn’t a high ranking spot, but it had beer on tap and annoying music playing off key. Adrien noticed why immediately, it was a karaoke bar. A group of girls were on stage singing an old Spice Girls song. The 5 girls sung and danced to a song about lovers and friends. Something about it reminded him of Marinette and their mutual friends from class.

They took a table where they could see the singers and the bar, but was in the darkest corner they could find. A barmaid came around and took their orders. They had never gone into a bar like this before and had no idea what to order, so they asked for the most popular drink the house sold.

“And some fish and chips.” Adrien called after. He felt a sudden jab in his side as he stood up. He was still wearing his Yi-fu. He went into the bathroom and locked the door.

“You can’t drink.” Plagg said, “If you don’ you won’t be able to transform”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Adrien said.

“Drink? Or Transform?” Plagg floated in the air near him with his hands on his hips.

“Either.” He said. “Come on, we can’t leave him out there by himself in his condition.” they were brought a pitcher of beer and two drinks. Great. Felix finished off his first drink as Adrien pretended to sip on his. He waited for his cousin to not be looking then switched cups with him and poured more in.

The waitress caught him one time while Felix was in the bathroom.

“Should I be concerned for your brother?” she said wryly.

“He needs to drink, I don’t, but he doesn’t want to drink alone.” Adrien smiled. “I’ll cut him off before I have to carry him.”

“What’s with the outfit.”

“It’s a long story.” He smiled again as Felix returned to his seat. The waitress took the pictures and left to refill it. By the time the bartender made the last call of the night, it was two in the morning. Felix had drunk, danced and even attempted to sing an Elton John song. Adrien had to get up and help him with it lest he fall off the stage. He even turned Felix’s mic off so no one would hear him burping. To his surprised he must have sung circle of life rather nicely as the whole bar cheered when they were done. It was a weird choice of song but Felix was in a weird mood.

Adrien nearly carried his brother up the stairs of the hotel to the room he rented for them. He tried to keep as low of a profile as possible. Imagine the scandal of carrying an incapacited CEO into a shady motel. He dropped him onto one bed then set his carry bag on the other bed. He pulled out a pair of shorts and went into the bedroom to change.

The next morning Felix was already awake when Adrien scrambled out of bed.

“What did you do?” Felix scowled before Adrien could even through back the blankets. He looked up at him confused. “We are in a shady motel. I hope to tell no one saw us come in here.” Felix was livid, but Adrien laughed.

“I was careful, remember I don’t want to be seen in public either.”

“That’s right, Adrien Agreste doesn’t exist, so he can’t be seen dragging a man into a motel. Never mind the scandal.”

“Would you ratherr I had taken you home?” Adrien asked standing up. Felix’s eyes froze on him.

“Damn put a shirt on. What are you trying to do give me a complex?” Felix darted his eyes way suddening aware of the toned ab muscles Adrien had mastered in his time with Chao Sifu.

“Come to Shanghai, I’ll whip you into shape in no time.” He laughed.

“I have far to much to do,” Felix snapped. “Remember who does all the work in this family?”

“I work too.” Adrien pouted.

“Occasionally participating in fashion competitions doesn’t count.”

“Hey you still need to get Marinette to make me a costume.”

“She’d need your measurements.” Felix’s mouth contorted into a hethanous smile. “And an address where to send it.” This gave Adrien an idea. He picked up his phone and dialed up Cheng Sifu.

“Mr. Graham,” Cheng only called him that when Marinette was nearby.

“Can you ask Marinette for a favor,” he stalled a minute, “Say a secret admirer of her work wants to commission something for her.” He filled Cheng in on the details. He agreed to ask her and let him know.

“Really are you going to start sending her flowers too.”

“Not a bad idea cousin.” He smirked.

“Funny I thought we were brothers.” Felix tossed the cold hard truth at him. It was the first time either one had acknowledged it. Adrien’s eyebrows narrowed as he thought.

“We’re still cousins too.” He snorted.

“Considering we shared the same womb, I think that trumps cousin any day.”

“You do have a point. Brother.” Adrien dropped a hand on his brothers shoulder, “Should we schedule a press conference?” Felix stiffened with anxiety at the idea of yet another Agreste based scandal. “That’s what I thought. Let’s stick to cousin unless these thin walls have ears.” he left Felix to dress in the bathroom. He put on a plain pair of blue jeans and black t-shirt with a Red short sleeve button down that he left open in the front. It was one of his favorite shirts as he had Chao order it for him from Marinette’s online store.

He couldnt’ use Chao Sifu anymore, so Cheng was his only other friend in China. He brushed his teeth as he heard the front door open and close. Fine, it was best they not be seen leaving the hotel just incase people get the wrong idea. He checked his phone for the return flight time. He had missed the earlier flight but he could get on the next one. He quickly booked and grabbed his bags.

“Forgetting something?” Plagg groaned. It must have been a long night for him. Despite Adien smuggling fries for him off the table. It still wasn’t cheese.

“We’ll check the market at the airport for snacks.” Adrien hurried out the door leaving the hotel key on the table and secured the door behind him. The housekeepers were already making their rounds as he rushed down the stairs to the street to catch a cab.

“Hey, isn’t that Adrien Agreste.” Someone called down the street. He quickly pulled the hoodie from the short sleeve button down over his face in case they were inclined to snap a picture. He slid into the cab closing the door just in time for the fan girls to catch up demanding a photo and answers.

“Where have you been.”

“Why are you here.”

“What happened with your father.”

“The air port please.” He said but the cab didn’t move. The driver got out of the car and Adrien tried to look without lifting his head as he locked his door.

“Get off my car, I don’t know who you think is in my car, but get off.” The cabby was yelling at fan girls who, in an attempt to keep him from leaving had actually climbed on the hood trying to get a view of his face.

“It’s Adrien Agreste.”

“No, it’s not, I gave Adrien Agreste a ride earlier and he was no where near this dump.” the man yelled. He got back in and put the car into drive.

“Thank you.” Adrien whispered.

“Your brother asked me to come get you, told me to lie if anyone saw you.” the man offered back. “He also told me you’d be going to the air port and prepaid your fair.”

“Thanks again.”

“If’ it’s not too bold, can I ask why you two lied about Adrien Agreste being nothing but an alias for Felix Graham De Vanily?”

“You heard about that?”

“Of course, Paris’ Sunshine boy disappears after his fathers arrest. Only for some identical slick haired pretty boy to take his place.” He scoffed. “My teenagers were mad with rage when they watched the press release.” Adrien felt a little bad for his fans who couldn’t understand.

“I had to do it.” Adrien sulked

“I know, it must have been hard for you in those earlier days after the incident.” If only he knew. They pulled up to the air port and Adrien got out, giving the man a smile and bid him farewell.

The flight back to Shanghai felt like going home. It wasn’t his permanent home, but it felt right, for now.

#miraculous fandom #ladynoir #miraculous chat noir #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #marichat #miraculous world #felix graham de vanily #Adrien Graham De Vanily #miraculous fanfic

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ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

Exciting Planeswalker Visitors

(Caution: Before we begin, this post is going to be much more opinion-based than previous ones. These are my own homebrew ideas, use them as/if you wish, discard/dismiss them if you prefer.)

Planeswalkers are an integral part of MTG Lore, as well as several of its most iconic characters. Put simply, a Planeswalker is an individual with an inherent gift for traveling between planes, or worlds. The gift does not appear at birth, but is usually triggered by some manner of incredibly emotional (usually traumatizing) event. In addition, each Planeswalker displays a unique aptitude for a particular style of magic; be it plant growth, transformation, becoming transparent, illusions, invulnerability, summoning beasts, structural analysis, setting things on fire, etc. Whatever their specific brand of magic is, it’s usually on a higher level than an ordinary person can hope to achieve.

Planeswalkers, as a general rule, are wanderers by nature. They may have a home plane, or even an adopted home plane, but being able to traverse the multiverse leads many towards lives of constant adventuring/shenanigans. Add in the fact that Planeswalkers cannot bring anyone else with them on these travels (except in very rare cases), and you end up with a special breed of super-powerful magical loner. They show up, make a name for themselves with their big magic, and depart when they feel like it. Did you say, “Instant Adventure”?

Ravnica has a few native Planeswalkers among its citizens; Ral Zarek, Vraska, and Domri Rade. In addition, it has several Planeswalkers who have at some point or another (depending on your timeline) devoted enough time & energy to be effectively considered citizens; Azor, Tezzeret, Kaya, Dack Fayden, Dovin Baan, Gideon Jura, and Jace Beleren. Some of these are currently dead, missing, or magically barred from ever returning. At one point, Ravnica had more Planeswalkers on it at one time than any plane in the multiverse has ever or will ever see. If you are going the War of the Spark direction, good luck. You'll need it and so will your players. For everyone else, which Planeswalkers you choose to include in your campaign (if any), should be based on who will work the best for the story you’re trying to tell. A recommendation; if you find their lore too distracting and complicated, stick to the main beats. A lot of these figures can be boiled down to simple ideas, and you don’t want to bore your party with the entire novel of these usually dramatic/tragic lives. Trust me, the base concepts are enough.

With that in mind, here are four Planeswalkers that I, a random person on the internet, believe would work great for a Ravnica campaign. My choices are not based on who has canonically already spent time in Ravnica, or who would be the most powerful/dangerous to suddenly appear in the city. Several Planeswalkers have their own prior commitments on other planes that are pretty central to their character, and BAMFing them to Ravnica for a quick Bad Guy to take down wouldn’t do them justice. These four characters would slide into various aspects of Ravnica beautifully. These four would be the most exciting visitors to Ravnica.

Ashiok, Dream Render

I don’t think any MTG character could be as good a fit for a Ravnican Guild as Ashiok is for House Dimir. Ashiok is almost literally a walking shadow of secrets and intrigue. Their origins, their age, their motives, their face; hell, their gender is a secret yet unrevealed. Ashiok’s power is creating living beings born of the greatest fears stolen from people’s nightmares. Literally.

It’s like if the Dimir stopped half-assing the art of stealing thoughts and turned it into a weapon of mass destruction. Because even the mightiest of Ravnicans are afraid of things. Ask Niv-Mizzet about the Nephilim sometime, see how quickly he changes the subject. What’s better, for a Guild that prides itself on always having the up & up on everyone, Ashiok is inscrutable. They have no past that can be divined, no secrets that can be stolen, no previous encounters to prepare any for their arrival. Neither Lazav nor Etrata can claim such anonymity, despite their best efforts. Ashiok is a true enigma and a dangerous new weapon for House Dimir.

Ashiok also comes with the ability to create minions and NPCs from out of any PC’s worst nightmares, making encounters a great combination of roleplaying & combat. Fighting them is specifically facing one’s deepest & darkest fears made real. Can you say, “character development”?

Ashiok’s arrival could spread this new magical art to other Dimir Agents for a longer campaign, but it might be best to confine it to Ashiok in order to allow for a cleaner victory. Ashiok is not a fighter, cornering them into a direct confrontation should be enough to make the Nightmare Sculptor run for the hills. The mind is powerful, but also very squishy.

Tibalt, the Fiend-Blooded

You know how the Cult of Rakdos are technically Chaotic Evil but generally just a bunch of artsy hedonistic nuisances? Tibalt is to them what a gallon of gasoline would be to a lit stove. Good for fire, bad for everything else. Tibalt is an empath specializing in Pain Magic. Quite literally, he loves hurting people for fun. Drawn to pain like a magnet; physical, emotional, spiritual, psychological, etc, he is sadism personified.

His brief time on Ravnica during War of the Spark was enough to make a strong impression on the Rakdos.

“I like this one’s energy.”

This is because they do not realize how bad Tibalt would be for the Cult. There is a fundamental difference between the Chaotic Evil the Cult practices and the Chaotic Evil Tibalt delights in. The Rakdos have survived 10,000 years by taking in the freaks, the rejects, and the crazies, and giving them a place where they can live out their most depraved hedonistic fantasies. They are the voice of the outsiders bringing all figures of power & authority down a peg. They always punch up, never down. Tibalt is a young man with no home, no friends, no job, and no interests or hobbies beyond inflicting pain in as many people as possible. Tibalt punches everyone. The most important distinction between the two is that the Cult of Rakdos is a culture, a way of life for people to embrace; it might be crazy, but it welcomes & accepts people no matter how insane the world says they are. Tibalt does not care about anyone but himself. Following his example would see the city turned into the largest, bloodiest, and most destructive riot in its history; with Tibalt inciting and sicking every monstrosity he can find onto the city at once. He will burn the Rakdos candle at both ends and leave them to suffer the consequences of his fun. The aftermath being the city in ruins, the Cult wiped from the face of existence, and him moving on to his next project. In short, Tibalt will hurt the Cult of Rakdos as much, if not more, than the rest of Ravnica. Because that’s how he gets his kicks.

The one thing standing in his way will be Rakdos himself. As the single largest diva on the entire plane, Rakdos does not tolerate anyone who tries to steal his spotlight. As a 10,000+ year-old Demon Lord, Rakdos is in a league of his own, and Tibalt is just a hotshit little pain mage with a few tricks. It’s not a fight, it’s either an exit or a curtain call for the Planeswalker. If Rakdos is around, Tibalt’s spree will be very short-lived. If, however, Rakdos is doing his usual thing of hibernating for weeks, months, or years at a time, that’s a different story. Tibalt is good for if your campaign wants to bypass politics & intrigue and go straight to killing Cultists & Demons. He’s bad for anyone he comes in contact with.

Garruk Wildspeaker

In case I haven’t made my contempt for Domri Rade clear, I hold Domri Rade in utter contempt. As a character, as a Planeswalker, and most of all as a Gruul, he’s a failure. Scrawny, weak, gullible, and stupid. My chief grievance with Domri is that he fell short in all the areas the Gruul Clans idolize. He couldn’t survive in the wilderness on his own without his Planeswalker abilities, he couldn’t fight for himself except against weaker opponents or with herds of animals as backup, and he acted on orders from someone else who wasn’t Gruul. For a Guild built on independence and survival of the fittest, he failed both completely.

Garruk is the real deal. Gigantic, strong, savage, and cunning. Here is a man who, on a fundamental level, has embraced animal savagery as a way of life. He lives like a predator on the hunt, an alpha of any pack, and a fierce threat to all who intrude upon his territory. On a plane like Ravnica, where civilization has encroached on the untamed wilds almost completely, Garruk would be a gamechanger. Not only could he feasibly fight Borborygmos for leadership of the Gruul, he could win, and he could unite the Gruul under his howl of reclaiming the wilds from so-called “civilization”. Garruk would bring animal strength to the Gruul in ways they’ve only begun to tap into, and he’d do it in their language. Because Garruk understands the Gruul, and they understand him. They have so much in common with each other that it’s hard to think of any Planeswalker who could be welcomed so readily into a Guild. They would become so much more than rock-smashers and anarchists, they would become Ravnica’s reminder that nature will survive when all traces of society have crumbled away.

As if taking on the city itself wasn’t big enough already, Garruk has also taken to hunting other Planeswalkers, and can actually track them across the Multiverse. Meaning a few high-ranking members of Guilds and even the Living Guildpact have to take his threat seriously. He’s got a particular grudge against necromancers, dislikes talking, and has a special gift with animals of all varieties. All of which provides plenty of ideas to build from. He’s an 8ft tall Human Druid/Barbarian who willingly chooses animal savagery over intellectual reasoning, can there be anyone more perfect for the Gruul?

Did I say Ashiok was the most perfect fit for an MTG character in a Ravnican Guild? Yeah, scratch that. Garruk is.

Sarkhan Vol

Most Planeswalkers have a theme to their abilities. For some, that theme extends to their personalities as well. And then there are Planeswalkers who can be adequately summed up in a single word. For Sarkhan, that word would be “dragons”. Sarkhan sees dragons as nature’s purest & most destructive form, and carries a fascination with them that is perfectly healthy for anything with wings and scales that breathes fire, but generally less healthy for everything & everyone else.

One of the things that makes Ravnica unique is the distinct lack of dragons (emphasis on the plural). Ravnica has a dragon, Niv-Mizzet the Firemind, who made the executive decision thousands of years ago that he alone was sufficient to represent his entire species. Ravnican dragons are considered more intelligent than dragons on other planes, Niv himself being a prime example of this. Around the original signing of the Guildpact, Ravnica’s Godlike dragons were hunted to extinction, with Niv leading the hunt against his own kind. They were not entirely successful in this endeavor, but what few dragons do remain in the present day survive by staying as far off Niv’s radar as possible. Some dragons live by carrying out Niv’s will under constant supervision, or by hunting in the untamed wilds outside the city, or as sideshow attractions for the Rakdos (usually with their wings cut off to prevent escape). They are effectively stripped of anything that would identify them as “dragons” for the sake of their own existence. Since dragons are such a notoriously touchy subject for the Firemind, few have the nerve or fire immunity necessary to speak out against it.

Sarkhan would be horrified. If he thought the extinction of dragons on his home plane of Tarkir was bad, seeing them living like this would infuriate him beyond words. What would Sarkhan do once the initial shock of seeing his spirit animal (in more ways than one) reduced to pitiful scraps of life as lab rats, scared prey, and freak shows wears off? Let’s make it a game! Do you think Sarkhan will:

A. Cry.

B. Throw up.

C. Embrace this as a plane’s reality that he has no right to get involved with.

D. Scream.

E. Set something on fire.

F. Set everything on fire.

G. Bring back the dragons.

H. Burn the city to the ground with dragons.

I. Kill Niv-Mizzet.

J. All the above except “C”.

If you selected Answer “J”, then congratulations! You’ve just won a free trip to a BURNING METROPOLIS! Sarkhan will absolutely make it his life’s goal to bring dragons back to Ravnica and destroy the whole wretched city down to the last brick. How he would do it is up to you, but it’s a solid bet that even if every other Guild treats him like an apocalyptic madman, the Gruul might side with him over some shared beliefs in smashing the city apart with ferocious animal savagery. They tend to lean towards such ideas with uncharacteristic willful compliance. Ravnican dragons are primarily red, with the most prominent breed still remaining being the Utvara Hellkites beyond the city limits.

Oh, and Sarkhan can turn into a dragon, too. Have fun with that.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #goblins #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dragons #planeswalkers #mtg #campaign #roleplaying #tibalt #sarkhan #ashiok #garruk #fun ideas #guilds

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dibberdipper · 4 years

Text

Where to go next (Part 2 of cheap frat party beer)

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Comfort, implied past sex, language

Word count: 2,000

Summary: When kickoff day is over and everyone’s going home, two girls walk around in the street enjoying each other’s company until they have to fight at school again tomorrow.

Authors note at the end

Bea watched the blonde-haired girl angrily stomp away. She’s recognized the kind of person she is-

She’s a spoiled rich brat who just minutes prior threw a tantrum just because Belvoire’s newest farm girl won over the student body. Bea was undeniably attracted to Poppy, it’s been known at this point. But she wanted nothing more than to take her down. What goes without saying, she wanted the top spot. What made things complicated was she also wanted the girl in the top spot.

They never talked about that shared night in the dorm room, how even after they did the deed they stayed to cuddle. The school’s top rivals were cuddling. Poppy got back with Carter, and Bea felt like there was nothing she could say or do about it. So maybe there was just a little hint of spite involved.

She was on her way back to her and Zoey’s shared place but hesitated to keep going. A certain moment in the day kept plaguing her mind. Poppy just broke up with Carter today. For her reputation, this was the perfect chance to date the school’s football team captain. Carter was attractive, he was sweet… but her mind kept lingering to his ex-girlfriend. She knew it was evil, but she hoped she’d actually stay his ex-girlfriend this time.

She already knew she could surpass Poppy in a week tops, why not try to get in deeper with Poppy now? Worst case scenario, Poppy could embarrass and expose her. But even then, Bea just didn’t really care. She could probably get more momentum in some way and try to make the whole ‘Farmgirl simps for the queen of the school”. On the other hand, best-case scenario, Carter may be out of a girlfriend while she just got one.

As she took her phone out of her pocket, she walked away from her dorm. She could already hear Zoey’s lecture later onto why she left alone without any backup. She went to Poppy’s Instagram page and slid right into her DMs.

“wanna meet later”

She didn’t even wait a second for her reply, it was immediate.

“excuse me???? hell no”

“why not :(”

“have u met me? no”

Bea thought about what to say next when her phone came up with another notification.

“ok how do I know you won’t show up without your bootleg media manager”

Bea rolled her eyes as she kept typing. Okay, she’s crossing her fingers that Poppy does have a secret soft spot somewhere under her blunt rudeness. She couldn’t expect Zoey to support her and Poppy if Poppy couldn’t even treat Zoey with bare minimum respect.

But then again, who says there’s even a relationship.

“how do I know you won’t show up without any of your minions? oh wait they left :(“

She could already see Poppy’s fingers angrily tapping her phone.

Bea came up with an idea that’ll hopefully make things more fun for the both of them that won’t lead to screaming over DMs.

“here, i’ll drop my number so we can FaceTime each other on our way to McDonald’s. foolproof”

“🤢🤢🤢 barf, no”

“Who would expect Poppy Min-Sinclair at a McDonald’s?”

She didn’t get anything back until she got an unknown number trying to FaceTime her. She smiled to herself as she took out her earphones and answered.

“Hey gorgeous-“

“Who do you think you are?! Asking me to meet up after humiliating me?!”

She only saw her neck up, a deep red wool scarf covering up the lower side of her face. She was also adorned in an ugly mud brown hat.

“Poppy I-“

“To think I actually slept with yo-“

“Poppy sweetie, you should be a little quieter on the streets in NYC. Just a little tip.” Bea said laughing, as Poppy flushed. Bea obviously had a view of the buildings behind Poppy.

Poppy huffed. “I might as well not even talk to you on the phone, you’re being such a bitc-“

Poppy heard footsteps behind her and slowly turned around her.

“Then you don’t have to!”

Poppy was so startled she almost fell, and her hat fell off. She put a hand over her heart and took a deep breath.

“Bea! You scared me!”

Bea picked the hat up from off the ground and placed it back on her head.

“Whoops. Sorry.”

Bea looked Poppy over, and now she got to see along with the hat and scarf, she was wearing a tan dress coat with dark brown boots. She looked like a stereotypical cartoon character in a disguise minus the glasses with a mustache attached, plus the tacky hat. There was something charming about her attempt to look less suspicious.

Poppy glared at her but slowly her expression softened.

“Here, I brought these.”

She handed her matching sunglasses, they had some sort of brand name that Bea couldn’t recognize on them.

“Awww babe you brought us matching sunglasses?”

“Don’t think you can just call me babe, I’m pissed at you.”

Poppy crossed her arms after slipping her sunglasses, looking away in annoyance. Bea could’ve apologized or whatever, but the way she said it as if she did nothing riled her up.

“You shouldn’t have tried to sabotage me, sweetie.” Bea said as she slipped her matching pair of sunglasses on.

Poppy wrinkled her nose in anger.

“Then you shouldn’t have tried to upstage me.”

“Here how about this Poppy, we’ll say sorry on three?”

“Okay.” Poppy said uncrossing her arms. Bea felt her eyes on her through the sunglasses.

“One…two…three…”

They waited for one of them to say sorry, but none of them did. They left each other hanging.

They kept eye contact and started laughing. Almost as if they were moving on their own, still laughing, they interlocked fingers and started walking. Poppy laid her head on Bea’s shoulder.

“Ugh, do we still have to go to McDonald's? “

“I guess not. Where do you want to go then?

“I don’t mind just walking.”

They walked, enjoying their shared silence as if they were just two girls holding hands because they liked each other. They both individually loved their reputations, socializing, but at the end of the day, it’s probably the only thing keeping them apart. The school is watching for a catfight, not a love story.

“Bea, why did you really call me here?”

“I just wanted to talk.” Bea replied.

Poppy lifted her head away.

“Ask me ten questions, and I’ll ask you ten questions after.” She remarked.

“Poppy, are you really trying to get to know me through a trivial game?” Bea said.

“You do know that’s one question down, right?” Poppy smirked.

“Oh come one, you’re not going to seriously count that as a question.” Bea said in annoyance.

“Ah, that’s two.” Bea scoffed at her statement, but Poppy giggled in reply. Time seemed to stop every time Poppy genuinely laughed, almost as if the world knew that was the only time she looked truly innocent.

“Okay I’ll stop teasing you, you can ask. But you only have eight questions left.”

Bea squeezed her hand, as she looked around trying to think of one.

“Cats or dogs?”

“That’s seriously what you’re asking?”

“Sue me, but you can tell a lot about a person by which one they prefer.”

Poppy was silent for a moment.

“I wanted a cat when I was younger, but my mom’s allergic.”

“Ah okay. Next question I guess. Look I know we’ve done things, and you dated Carter, but I don’t want to assume anything. Are you bi?”

Poppy winked at her. “Let’s just say I listen to girl in red.”

Bea rolled her eyes but laughed.

“Okay, five more questions I guess. Coke or Pepsi.”

Poppy didn’t miss a beat. “White wine. Why drink those when you have a wine cooler?”

Bea punched her arm playfully. “Hey, your ‘too cool for soda’ rich kid is showing.”

They both laughed among each other.

“I mean I don’t have any more questions except one I guess.”

“Please do ask.” Poppy said, moving her hands upwards to clutch onto her arm.

“Have you even tried McDonald’s?”

“I’ve dated Carter, I went with him and I’ve come to the conclusion that almost none of their food looks like their advertising.” Poppy said.

“Well do you have a favorite fast food place? Or are you simply too fancy?”

Poppy looked around for a moment.

“You tell anyone and I swear to whatever God is out there Bea Hughes, I’ll make you pay.”

Bea started laughing, covering her hand over her mouth this time trying not to annoy other passers among them, previous people shooting them glares for being so damn loud.

“Okay, you have to tell me now.” Bea said finally calming her giggles.

She noticed Poppy’s face glow with a red tint as she buried herself in her scarf.

“After my first break up in high school, I ate at Wendy’s. It’s now my guilty pleasure.”

“I’ve actually never had Wendy’s.” Poppy gaped at Bea in surprise.

“Why? How could you not!”

“In my hometown, I mainly had food from mom and pop type diners and restaurants, you know?”

Poppy felt herself burn inside. On her first day of school, she relentlessly went at her for where she came from. Poppy let go of her arm and took a deep breath. As much as she could’ve never said this, the over-attachment she’s already grown so much to this girl couldn’t let her brush it off.

“Poppy are you oka-“ Before Bea could finish, Poppy interrupted her.

“I’m sorry for being such a piece of shit to you. Hell, I’m kind of a piece of shit to everyone.” Poppy tried to hold it in, but a tear or two slipped past and left streaks on her cheeks.

“Poppy…” Bea sighed.

“I’m not going to pretend and tell you you’re forgiven or that you haven’t been a real bitch to everyone. But I mean, who am I to judge? I’m not any better than you.”

Poppy looked up at her through her glasses, she didn’t even feel like being defensive. She knew she was right.

“One part of me wants to believe you have some sort of secret soft side, but I know that’d be me making up some other version of you. I want to get to know you, know every deep secret you have, I want to know all the little quirks that make you…you. But another part of me wants to be that power couple I’ve always selfishly wanted.”

Poppy felt the tears being unleashed. Carter was always sweet to her, pampered her even, he’s an amazing guy. But for some reason, this very moment meant so much to her than anything else.

“Would you… want to date me one day?” Poppy slipped the words out as she wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve.

Bea thought to herself for a few minutes, making Poppy shrink in paranoia as to what her response might be.

“We both need to grow first. I want to get better for you, and I want you to be satisfied enough in your life to not seek validation within some college ranking system.” As much as the words stung, Poppy nodded.

Bea looked down at Poppy and she stopped in her steps. She pulled her away from the sidewalk and closer to the wall of whatever building was next to them. She held her hands in hers.

“Instead of asking me ten questions, you know what you could do for me?”

Poppy looked at her puzzlingly.

“You know… you could kiss me.” Poppy giggles uncharacteristically in reply.

“Close your eyes.” Bea’s eyelids fluttered down. Poppy stood on her tippy toes and placed her lips on hers. It was different from that first night. Instead of sexual tension and passion, it was soft. As fun as that night was, she could say she preferred this one in a heartbeat. She pulled away as she something vibrate in her back pocket.

“Bea where are you??? Not to be a mom, but weren’t you supposed to get here a while ago?”

“Oh shit.” Bea accidentally said aloud”

“What is it?” Poppy said suddenly looking at her phone to see what she was looking at.

“I forgot to tell Zoey I was going out.”

“You forgot?!” Bea felt so stupid, as she went on her Uber app.

“I’ll get us both an Uber and I’ll walk you to your floor so you’ll be safe okay?”

Poppy sighed dejectedly. “Okay.”

“You do know you could keep your lips on mine in the Uber, right?”

Poppy smiled at her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

________________________________________________________

okay I just wanted to say 😳😳

i have another Poppy x MC WIP but as soon as i read chapter 4 of Queen B I just h a d to write this

because first of all, it was intended to be a one-shot but a couple of people asked and I had no idea how to start it but chapter 4 gave me life so here we are

thanks for reading 🥰

Tagging (Message if you want to be added or removed please!!)

Thank you for reading! Tagging: @lolimugly @origmansello @everythingchoices @lonewolf751 @lavenderrtown @save-me-the-last-dance @priestess-of-light @otakufangirl-12 @vampiregirlsblog @princessstellaris @somewillwin @grapecaseschoices @mvalentine @greatestflirt-hero @sugarplumpnhoneybun @ognenniyvolk @coldbatfriendroad @that-one-choices-person @drethanramslay @queensayeed @kawaiibanditmoneytaco @rotten-teddy-bear @aguywiththreepairsofglasses @elijahmessenger @ritafarrr @erza-elcy-crimson @poshbiscuit @generaldameronss @adrianadmirer @everythingchoices @imturasgirl @noesapphic

(psa if you weren’t tagged but you wanted to be please message, i have bad WiFi so I might not see some people asking until later on)

#playchoices #Queen B #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

You’ll Look At Me With Eyes That See

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: M (Mature) Notes: This little brain child came after a few too many Netflix Christmas movies and a few motivating conversations with my best pal, S. I love dogs and awkward dog owner Tony just wouldn’t go away! Word Count: ~5.2K Summary:

When Happy first mentioned getting a dog, Tony balked at the idea. After taking a look around his empty home, however, he started to warm up to the idea. With Happy's overly excited advice in hand, Tony takes a chance & peruses the local border collie rescue. When he brought the shy dog home, Tony never would've imagined the bond he would create - or the human connection that would follow.

Read on AO3 here.

Looking down Bo’s snoot, Tony sent out a good vibe towards Happy for the millionth time that day.

When Happy initially mentioned the addition of a dog to the Stark household, Tony couldn’t say no fast enough. Despite being so his entire life, Tony liked being alone. The comfort of the normalcy of his everyday life revolved around the isolation and freedom the little cabin in upstate New York afforded him. He picked his current location specifically for that particular characteristic. Why ruin the carefully cultivated environment by adding another living, breathing thing to the mix?

It didn’t dawn on him until a couple of weeks later that maybe, just maybe, Happy might’ve been right. Though there wasn’t any excess noise, or people taking up more space than necessary, Tony felt like something was missing. Well, he felt that way throughout his entire life, but it ached a little harder the longer he looked around the room and found empty spaces. Making it alone and enjoying it were too things Tony didn’t have much experience distinguishing. His entire life was about making it – a part of him wondered if he even knew what it was to enjoy anything.

The next time Tony caught Happy on the phone, he brought the topic up himself, the entire thing grating on his nerves as he spoke – anxiety and the slightest bit of hope weighing him down ever so slightly.

“So – about that dog,” Tony started with a slight hitch in his voice.

Though, he didn’t make it very far before Happy pipped up, a loud shriek of excitement radiating down the phone line between them. “I knew I could break you down! Tony, you don’t know how great of an idea this is. I told you about the border collie I rescued a few months ago, Rango – I’ve been so much happier since he came barreling into my life.”

At that point, Tony could do nothing but listen to Happy’s exuberant rambling about the foundation and how much he was going to enjoy every second of the whole experience. Before getting off the phone, Tony finally got to sneak a word in, the slightest hint of affection in his voice.

“Thanks, Hap – this was a great idea.”

Of course, when Tony felt that bubble of scorching apprehension sitting in the bottom of his stomach, the thought of telling Happy how good of an idea it was the previous night felt like a distant memory now that he was sitting in the waiting room – twenty minutes and a few pieces of paper between him and a brand new addition to the meticulousness of his life.

Despite the anxiety about the whole process, finding the dog for him was surprisingly easy. After wringing his hands for what felt like an eternity, Tony was led back to the kennels by a smiling tech, the girl’s hair swinging from one side of her head to the other as she walked. Deciding that the tranquility of the motion was much more soothing, Tony watched the pendulum of it the entire way, his heart slowing down to a manageable level by the time he could hear yips and barks.

“Alright, Mr. Stark – this is the crew. Our vet and dog trainer, Peter, does a good job with their training, but they get a little excitable when they meet someone new – don’t let it overwhelm you.” The tech said all of this with a smile, her eyes flashing with a certain affection that all dog people shared – there really wasn’t anything like wet doggy kisses and fluff under the palm of his hand.

Taking a couple of steps into the pin, Tony was immediately swarmed. Though the dogs didn’t try and take him off his feet, each one nudged and pushed in an attempt to get closer to him – all, of course, except one. With his hands down, Tony let his fingers brush against soft fur, the mere contact enough to calm down all of the raging anxiety within him. Using the newfound confidence, Tony pushed through the group until he was standing in front of the one dog that hung back.

“That’s Bo – he’s our resident shy guy.”

Tony crouched down then, a soft smile on his face. “Hi, Bo,” he muttered softly, his hand extending so that the back of it was on offer for sniffs and introductions. A soft nose touched his skin a moment later, Bo’s head ducking to take him in. As if something clicked in that small moment of contact, Bo took a few steps forward until his body pressed against Tony, the pressure something collies were known for. Sucking in a breath, Tony let the grin on his face grow – it seemed as if he found his dog.

The process of getting Bo home wasn’t all that complicated. Since he was a trained service dog, Tony decided to sign up for the training course the foundation’s vet put on – if the dog was trained, the least Tony could do was get on board and train himself, too. The tech shot him a coy smile as she continued to talk up the vet – Tony knew he was missing something but went along with it all the same. Having Bo’s lead pressed into his hands made it all worth it.

That happened two weeks ago – two weeks in which Tony took a break from his editing duties in a desperate attempt to find a rhythm with his new pal, to fall in line with the demands of not only caring for himself efficiently, but the newest addition, too. It started off a little slow, both Tony and Bo trying to figure out where they fit with each other. Yet, as the days past, Tony felt a sort of comfortability settle between them. Tony liked the warmth pressed against his leg at night and Bo seemed to enjoy the hour long walks they took to taking later in the evening when the sky burst with color and painted the most serene of pictures.

In fact, things were starting to go so well that Tony completely forgot the dog training courses he signed himself up for. The text message reminder he asked for during the paperwork process reminded him the night before and then again, a few hours before the class was set to take place. At the time, signing up for the training seemed like a good idea. He wanted to know everything he could about Bo’s care, but he didn’t factor in the need to actually get out of his house and make the journey back into the public domain. He already made the monthly pilgrimage to get the dog.

Still unsure, Tony clicked Bo into his lead and left the house, anyway. He paid the fee to get the information, the least he could do was make an attempt to actually go (even if leaving the comfort of his house physically felt like the most impossible challenge to date). Getting out the door with Bo by his side made it all a little easier, though he hated to admit it. Giving in to the idea would mean that Happy was right; and he hated giving his old friend any sort of kudos, even if he deserved them.

Grinning with that thought in mind, Tony climbed into the car and let Bo get settled before backing out and making the ten-minute drive into the little town that surrounded his mecca of isolation. In the wintertime, when the roads were covered with snow and ice, the trek was almost impossible (and that was how Tony liked it). With a couple of minutes to spare, Tony relaxed back into the driver’s seat, his head turning to catch Bo’s glance.

“We can do this, right bud? It’ll be okay. We can survive the masses for a little while.” Tony ran his fingers through soft hair as he spoke. The dog pressed into his hand then, Tony understanding that was as much of an answer as he was going to get. Sucking in a deep breath, Tony nodded, let his fingers pass through Bo’s fur a couple more times, and turned off the car. By the time they got out of the vehicle, Tony was right on time.

Things were fine until Tony actually walked into the door. Instead of the big group he expected, there were two other dog owners and their pups idling around. There was the smallest bit of chatter happening, but no overwhelming noise like he initially thought there’d be. The front area of the waiting room was transformed into a large empty space, the coffee table and chairs obviously moved elsewhere. The sudden anxiety of being in a crowd dissipated easily; Bo nudged his hand, looking towards the other dogs in the room.

Before he could get his lead off and release him into the company of the other pups, a door opened, and all of the oxygen was pulled out of the room. When Cindy, the tech he worked with when he first got Bo, mentioned the vet, Tony immediately thought of someone older with graying hair and a soft smile. Instead, he was met with a young man with shoulder length hair, well-kept facial hair, and the brownest eyes Tony could remember ever seeing. They were deep and open, smooth in a way that Tony wanted to dive in and learn all of the secrets kept within them.

Bo gave a little huff then, Tony’s hand still gripping the dog’s collar (probably very tightly now that the entire world moved the second he saw the most handsome man to ever exist). Loosening his grip, Tony tried to swallow the lump that quickly grew in his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt such an instant connection and immediately cursed Happy for this amazing burst of good fortune. A dog and a handsome man all within the same month – how could he ever handle the load of anxiety and excitement that threatened to overwhelm him?

Things got started not long after that, the abrupt nature of it allowing Tony to forget about his little dilemma for the entirety of the hour – an hour in which Tony watched Doctor Peter Parker talk about the facets of dog training, the man every so often running a hand through his hair as he spoke about the ins and outs of companion dogs and their mannerisms. By the time the training came to an end, Tony couldn’t decide if he liked Peter’s beauty or the brain that held so much knowledge more.

After finishing up and getting Bo clipped back into his lead, Tony stood idly around, wondering what the protocol for chatting up the teacher was. Like he understood Tony’s apprehension, Bo pulled him forward, the length of the leash allowing him to get a few steps ahead without Tony noticing. Looking up when he felt the tug, Tony rolled his eyes, a small smirk overtaking his lips. It was like Bo and Happy were conspiring against him – both pushing him in the direction he knew he needed to take.

Walking after Bo, Tony tried to play it cool when the sexy vet, Dr. Peter Parker, turned and dropped his hand for the dog to smell, a smile slipping across his gorgeous cheeks.

“Hi, buddy. I heard that you got adopted,” Peter said softly, his words for the dog and dog alone. When he looked up, Tony felt his heart stutter – they’d been within the same proximity all night, this feeling overtaking him each time they so much as caught eyes. With him so close, Tony could see the slightest upturn of his nose and the long lashes that enhanced the deep chocolate of his dreamy eyes.

“You must be the new owner – I’m happy to see you’re going to keep up his training. Bo’s been one of my best students since he came to stay with us.” Peter paused then, a hand slipping out between them. “I’m Peter – Peter Parker.”

Without hesitation, Tony gripped Peter’s hand, a shy smile dimpling his cheek, the red of his patented blush filling in the dip of his cheek. “Tony Stark,” he replied softly, his fingers squeezing Peter’s in a snug embrace. “I’m always behind continuing education.”

The answering grin just about knocked Tony on his ass, Peter’s cheeks crinkling at the corners with the quirk of his lips. “I like the sound of that. Does that mean I’ll see you next week?” He bent down then, running a hand through Bo’s hair – “and this little guy, too.”

“You bet – I signed up for the weekly course. I’m new to the whole dog owner thing, I thought I should get a little training for myself, too.” Tony felt his blush creep further down his face, his neck now in flames with the moving heat. “I kind of don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Looked okay to me,” Peter said quickly, his eyes flashing with something Tony couldn’t quite pinpoint. “But – I’m committed to making the best out of our dogs and their owners as I can. Take this.” He dug in his pocket for a second before producing a business card, the blocky Doctor Peter Parker across the front apparent and confident, much like the man handing it to him. “Give me a call if you find yourself not knowing what to do. I can make a house call.”

Unable to keep the dopey grin from overtaking his face, Tony pocketed the card and made up as good of an excuse to leave as he could. Aside from Happy and now Bo, Tony didn’t have many beings he felt comfortable with. Yet, standing in front of Peter those short few minutes, Tony felt good – strong and confident in a way that didn’t happen often – hadn’t happened in such a long time.

In a desperate attempt to save himself from further embarrassment (and a probable cardiac episode with all of the blood rushing straight to his face), Tony made a hasty exit, Bo’s leash clasped tightly in his hands.

“I’d say that went pretty well, huh boy?” Tony mumbled in Bo’s direction, his hand burying itself in soft fur as he spoke.

In his signature style, Bo pressed his body back into Tony’s hand, the movement answer enough.

----

Over the next couple of weeks, Tony went out of his way to ignore the card sitting on his workshop desk – the shiny block letters of Peter’s name almost taunting him every time they caught his eye. He went to their weekly training sessions, blushed his way through them, and attempted to not make a total fool of himself whenever he got the chance to speak to Peter. With each new time Tony saw the man, his crush got a little more serious – so serious in fact, Tony found himself doodling Peter’s initials all over the draft he needed to edit before the end of the week.

The childish nature of the feeling inside of him was new – throughout his young life, Tony didn’t have much time to let butterflies settle in his stomach, or impossible feelings overtake him. He was too busy surviving. Now, as a grown ass adult, Tony found himself grinning every time his heart raced, and his palm started to sweat when Peter came to mind. It should’ve rocked him to his core, the idea of wasting brain bytes on anything but the normal – but it didn’t; instead, Tony found himself with more energy and the companionship of a smile he didn’t really know existed.

By the fourth week of classes, Tony was feeling kind of desperate. He knew walking into the office later that night, Bo would get the best training and in between the commands and tricks, Tony got to have his fill, too. Yet, as the days past and the thoughts of Peter multiplied themselves in his brain, Tony wanted more. Of course he did – Peter’s smile lit up the room and the mere presence of the man, whether in his thoughts or in person, could make all the bad thoughts go away. No one, not even Happy, gave him such a feeling of comfortability.

Sighing, Tony forced down the thoughts, his brain mentally preparing to pine from a far, instead. With a rare free moment from his editing work, Tony decided to head to the workshop and work on his latest piece of woodwork. Though he kept his name from the business and picked drop-off places far from his home, Tony enjoyed his carpentry immensely – it didn’t hurt that the extra source of income brought him a lucrative cushion in which to fall onto when the book work got a little slow. The habit started as stress relief and managed to stay that way, despite the demand his work continued to foster.

Since bringing Bo home, the dog would follow Tony down the steep hill into the workshop, his tail wagging furiously the entire time they spent down there. Tony didn’t know what he did to have access to such a level-headed pet, but he was thankful for it – Bo didn’t have many demands and those that did exist were easy to carry out and minimally demanding. Nothing beat the companionship, though – Bo’s presence brought a new element to his life – no matter how reluctant he was to admit it to himself or Happy when he asked for the fiftieth time during their next phone call.

It took a few minutes for the two of them to get settled in, Tony adjusted the temperature and placed Bo’s bed a little closer to the source of heat. It didn’t hurt that the pup would be within reaching distance if Tony suddenly found the need for comfort, either. When he felt ready, Tony started the soothing rhythm of sanding his latest project – the edges of the table would come together nicely once he finished the little detail work.

He looked up every so often to make sure Bo wasn’t getting into anything, his eyes moving from one side of the workshop to the other at least a couple times every few minutes. Catching some movement out of the corner of his eye, Tony put down the sander, dusted himself off, and pulled the goggles from his face, a small grin slipping up his cheeks. “What are you up to, Bo?” Tony asked, a curiousness in his voice as he watched the dog walk to the front of the workshop and then back, his snoot down towards the floor until he was suddenly pressed up against Tony.

Leaning down, Tony ran his hands through the soft fluff on the top of Bo’s head, taking the moment to simply enjoy the feeling of the hair in his hands. As his head was pet, Bo looked up at him, the dog’s purpose of the walk to the front of the room now obvious – Peter Parker’s card was between Bo’s teeth, his slobber making the corners turn in on themselves.

“Hey, how’d you get that?” Tony gave Bo a cursory pat before taking the card from his mouth, his index finger tracing the raised edges of Peter’s name despite the sticky spit coating the entire thing. Shaking his head, Tony couldn’t help but laugh – in all his years, he never saw such an act of unsubtlety, and he was best friends with the biggest oaf of them all. He flicked the back of the card for a moment, then made a decision – if the dog, who only knew him for a few weeks, thought he needed to do this, the least Tony could do was try.

“Alright, I get it. I should’ve done this a couple of weeks ago, I know.”

The answering huff from Bo stole a laugh from his chest, his eyes glowing with affection, despite the apprehension that tried to pull him under as the seconds past.

Card in hand, Tony pulled out his phone and went about plugging in the number – he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to give Peter a call or simply send him a text message, so he allowed himself to dawdle while he made the final decision. After thumbing out a couple of messages that sounded ridiculous, Tony said fuck it and hastily pressed the audio button. By the time Tony felt the need to back out, the call was three rings in – the sound of Peter’s voice answering on the fourth ring really driving the finality of the situation home.

“Hi! I hope Siri got it right and this is Tony Stark,” Peter answered cheerily, the few short words already working to drive Tony crazy.

Sucking in a barely audible breath, Tony forced himself to speak, his words coming out rushed for just a moment. “Hi – yeah, it’s me. I mean, Tony Stark. Hi.”

He slapped himself for the awkwardness, Tony’s heart pounding so damn hard against his chest. “You said I could give you a call if I ever needed any help. Well, I need some help.” The whole thing was lame, and he needed to come up with a problem with the perfect Bo in the mater of moments, but it seemed worth it – Peter’s voice was so warm coming down the line.

“I did say that and would love to help. Can it wait until I see you this evening? Or should I get in the truck now and head your way?”

Tony drew his lip between his teeth, hazel eyes looking around the workshop and then down at Bo – his voice stuck in his throat. Coming to his rescue for the hundredth time, Bo leaned his body weight against him, the dog’s cold nose pressing against the back of his hand. Whatever it meant, Tony felt the instant bit of comfort radiating from the collie. “Bo’s been getting into some of the stuff around my workshop. I hoped you could come and decide how to best doggy proof everything.”

Bo looked up at him then, his body weight still pressing against Tony, his eyes glaring back at him as if he actually understood the words coming out of his mouth. Grinning, Tony gave his pup a soft pat against his head, fingers lingering in the soft fur. Despite the small white lie, Tony felt pretty good about his invitation – in the weeks since getting Bo, he did mean to accident proof a few things in his workshop. Bo didn’t get into things or hadn’t up until that point; but he wanted to feel good about it, anyway. It didn’t hurt that it gave a perfectly good excuse to have Peter come out his way.

The rhythmic voice of Peter brought him out of his thoughts, Tony catching the tail end of “give me your address and I’ll be right out.”

Shaking himself, Tony managed to babble out his address and the needed directions to get to his driveway after turning off the main road. He hoped, probably for the first time in his life, that this certain someone would find him, despite the self-brought upon isolation. Not everyone could handle his way of living, his need for space, hell – the amount of space he surrounded himself with was an obstacle in and of itself.

Bo, having sensed the shift in his thoughts, pressed his wet nose against the inside of Tony’s wrist, the sensory shift bringing him back to his workshop, the smell of shaved wood sitting in his nostrils an instant comfort. Looking around, Tony moved a couple of paces to his right, his hands running over the surface of his workspace to brush the sawdust off – the rest of the place was relatively well put together; Tony’s OCD didn’t allow him to keep much clutter when he was working.

Unable to remain idle while he waited for Peter to arrive, Tony picked up one of his tools and got to work on some of the small detail work at the edge of his almost put together table. The person commissioning the piece liked Celtic knots, so he distracted his nervous belly with the soothing movement of the design flowing from his fingertips.

It wasn’t until the crunch of tires on the road outside could be heard that Tony came out of his zone – his mind actually feeling clear after his little departure from the there and now. Sucking in a cleansing breath, Tony brushed himself and the table off once more before grabbing Bo’s lead and clipping him in. They stepped out of the workshop right as Peter got down from the cab of his truck, the door closing behind him.

“This is a gorgeous place,” Peter said, an open and honest smile slipping across his cheeks. His gorgeous eyes roamed over the land he could see, a look of wonder overtaking them. “I’ve never seen such a thickness of trees before.”

Letting his own smile slip, Tony let Bo pull him forward, the dog leading their way over to where Peter was standing a few feet away. “I had to chop a lot of them down when I first bought the land. Most of what used to stand makes up my house,” Tony replied softly, one of his hands moving to point to the log cabin he built from the ground up.

“That’s even more impressive. Did you construct everything out here?” By then, his eyes were on his workshop, the size of the building almost the same as the main house.

“The workshop was the first thing I got up and running. I moved out here about ten years ago – the hustle and bustle of the city was just too much. It’s quiet out here; lots of room to open up and breathe, y’know?” Tony narrowed the distance between them then, their shoulders knocking as the space was filled. “Come on – I’ll give you a tour.”

As they walked around, Tony told Peter about the process of getting the buildings together and all of the man-hours it took to make everything just right. They looked around the workshop and came up with simple solutions to the doggy-proofing problem, both men more than aware of the rouse Tony used to get Peter there. By the time they made it back to Peter’s truck, several hours were behind them. Tony’s face hurt from the permanent smile that wouldn’t disappear, despite his internal pleading; the last thing he wanted to do was look even more overeager than he already did. Their chemistry was amazing, he wasn’t going to deny that after multiple hours of seamless conversation.

Without the lead clipped to his collar, Bo walked around them as they milled around Peter’s open truck door, his tail occasionally brushing against Tony’s arm. The small comfort of the contact kept Tony in the moment, his eyes watching Peter’s every move – despite not getting along with most humans, Tony could read them impeccably well; facial expressions and body movements said so many things the individual didn’t.

Like, for instance, the shuffling of keys from hand to hand, or soulful brown eyes glancing down at Tony’s lips every couple of seconds. From the moment Peter gave him his card and mentioned house calls, Tony understood that there was interest there. Over the last few weeks of attending classes and catching a little bit of conversation before running for dear life, Tony could feel Peter’s attraction growing; the feeling so much like his own that it took until that very moment to separate his want from what he could feel rolling off of Peter.

In that moment, Tony felt a firmer grasp on what he wanted – what he’d been craving since the very first time he saw the vision that was Peter. Narrowing the space down between them, Tony caught Peter’s eye, his hand reaching to grasp the narrow hip in front of him. Peter nodded at him, the slightest blush rushing to the apple of his cheeks. Tony let his fingers grip the dark blue jeans sitting enticingly on Peter’s hips, the tips of them digging in ever so slightly.

“Is this okay?” Tony mumbled, the rest of his body already following his hand’s path, all of him so excited to finally feel the press of Peter against him.

Instead of answering, long fingers made their way into the hair on the back of Tony’s neck, Peter’s nails scraping his scalp slightly – the feeling of it all almost overwhelming.

Peter closed the space between them, his nose brushing against Tony’s. “I’ve wanted this since the second I saw you – you were so shy, but so gorgeous. Your salt and pepper hair and notice-me-not smile; I’m surprised we made it this long.” Without another word, both men shifted, their lips meeting for what felt like the only kiss that would ever matter to Tony ever again. A soft noise slipped from his chest, the feeling of total contentment too much to keep bottled deep within. Unlike the rest of his feelings, Tony wanted to revel in this one; he wanted to keep it at the forefront and hang on to it for as long and as tightly as he could.

The way Peter tilted his head to deepen the kiss had Tony moving into his space even more, the needed to have every piece of their bodies pressed together almost too much. Tony let another noise spill from him, the press of chest to chest something he didn’t remember missing. Peter was obviously fit, his jeans hugged his ass and thighs in the best of ways, and the solid color button downs he wore highlighted the narrowness of his hips and the tight chisel of his chest. Yet, Tony hadn’t imagined how right that firmness would feel – how, now pressed together from head to toe, Tony could picture everything between them with clarity. His brain felt fuzzy with the thought (and probably the lack of oxygen, too). Pulling back, he let his lips linger against Peter’s, their breaths harsh and ragged between them.

The next moment, a shrill bark had them jumping apart, both Peter and Tony looking exasperatedly at the dog currently wagging his tail, looking slightly like the true victor. Tony rolled his eyes, an affectionate huffing breath falling from his lips.

“You’re right, Bo – it is about time.”

Tony turned back to Peter then, his hands clenching against the rough jean fabric. “He is right, right?” Tony questioned, the barest look of hope taking up residence in his eyes.

Grinning, Peter pulled him back into a chaste kiss, their lips barely touching before he pulled away. A soft thumb swept along Tony’s cheek then, the skin barely tickling the edge of day-old stubble. His smile grew when Tony met his eyes, the touch just reassuring enough.

“He hasn’t been wrong yet.”

#starker #you'll look at me with eyes that see #and i'll be your lover too #bobbie writes #Peter Parker/Tony Stark

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pellucidity-is-me · 3 years

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Peter Pettigrew and Latin

Summary: Final installment in my Marauders and Latin series. Part 4, but works as a one-shot. I’m working through each Marauders’ relationship with Latin, and this is Peter Pettigrew. I’m also writing a very long story about the Marauders’ years at Hogwarts—you can find the link on my blog description!

Wordcount: 2111

Peter Pettigrew doesn't really ever find out what Latin is.

And he doesn't really care, to be honest.

The first time he has an actual conversation about the language is in the dormitory with Remus Lupin, who is Peter's best friend. They both adore James and Sirius, of course, but they can recognize that they're the underdogs. They aren't as loud and brash and bold as their dark-haired counterparts. It's always been James-and-Sirius, and then Remus-and-Peter. Remus and Peter are the afterthoughts, but that's okay.

Well, that's what Remus says, anyhow, but Peter knows the truth.

It's actually closer to James-and-Sirius and Remus, and also Peter. Remus and James are close because James loves having someone ill to take care of (and Remus is always poorly, for reasons unknown). Remus and Sirius are close because Sirius loves to vent about his parents, and Remus is a very good listener. Peter and Remus are close because they're similar (again: Remus says so, but Peter thinks he's just being kind). Remus has special and separate bonds with each of the other Marauders, but Peter is only close to Remus.

And it's so annoying. Peter spends more time around Sirius and James than Remus ever will. Remus is either ill or visiting his ill mother all the time. Remus doesn't join in on some of their more boisterous pranks. Remus sometimes prefers to spend time in the library rather than with his friends. It's Peter who gets into trouble for the sake of James and Sirius. It's Peter who claps for James when he does a fancy trick on his broom—Remus either reads a book or teases him. It's Peter who spends as much time as he can with James and Sirius, and Remus who is only their friend when he feels like it. So why is Peter still treated as an add-on? It's not fair.

Peter doesn't resent Remus, though. How could he? Remus is kind to Peter when nobody else is. Remus talks to Peter when nobody else will. Peter is always Remus' first choice, and that means the world.

James and Sirius are in a detention today, and Peter is doing schoolwork with Remus. They're talking about spells, and Remus says something about Latin roots. "What are Latin roots?" says Peter. "Are they like tree roots?"

Remus doesn't laugh, even though James and Sirius might've. He leans forward slightly and his eyes light up, just as they always do when Remus gets excited about something (they didn't used to, but now they do. Peter wonders what's changed). "It's a language," says Remus, "a very, very old language." He presses his lips together, and Peter knows that he's about to make a joke. "Older than Professor Dumbledore, even."

Peter laughs, but Remus isn't done yet. "Older than Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall combined. And older than Sirius, even though he thinks he's so old and wise just because his birthday is before ours." Remus smiles at Peter's laughter before continuing. "It's nothing like English. In English, we change the endings of verbs when the subject changes. In Latin, you change the ending of nouns, too—and adjectives have to agree with gender, and there's a whole separate tense just for when you aren't sure about something..." Remus rambles for a bit about the wonders of Latin, but Peter zones out for a bit. He doesn't really understand. "...But even though it's so different from English, a lot of the words we get—and a lot of the magic spells, especially—come from Latin," continues Remus. "Especially the big words. So when you know some Latin vocabulary, then you can guess what a word means based on the parts of Latin in it. That's a Latin root—it's part of the word that stems from Latin."

Root. Stem. What's up with all the plant terms? "Sounds complicated," says Peter.

"Oh, it is. Terribly complicated. I learned a bit of it before I went to Hogwarts, but I was never particularly good at it. I worked hard, though."

"Why'd you learn it, then?" asks Peter. He can't fathom the way that Remus' mind works sometimes. Who would learn for fun?

"Well..." Remus seems to be thinking very hard. "Sometimes languages are difficult to learn because they're always changing. Like French and English and Spanish and things. The vocabulary and slang changes all the time. But Latin isn't changing at all—it's been the same for years, and it'll never change again." He pauses. "And then there's the rules themselves. Latin has a lot of rules, but that means that it's predictable. It has relatively few exceptions to the words. And... I always found it fun to memorize things." Remus shrugs. "My life before Hogwarts was always very predictable, so Latin was comforting, in a way. Things that are constantly changing are a bit like moving targets, aren't they? My life's not predictable anymore, of course," Remus finishes with a laugh.

"It's not?"

"Are James and Sirius ever predictable?"

"Well... no." Peter smiles, but he's a bit concerned. "Does that mean you don't like us?" He dares to use the pronoun us, even though he knew that Remus was chiefly talking about James and Sirius. Peter likes being lumped together with his friends.

"That's not it at all," says Remus, waving his hands. "I think you're great. It's not what I'm used to, but maybe... it's better than what I'm used to. Moving targets are a little more fun, I think."

Peter disagrees, but he'll never say so. He thinks that his own relationship with the Marauders is a bit like a moving target—and, unlike Remus, Peter isn't quick enough to hit it. In fact, he's not even quick enough to see it until it's far too late. The expectations are always changing. The Marauders are too quick for Peter, too fast for him, too bright. Every time Peter feels like he's caught up, his friends have already moved on.

But Remus can keep up. Whenever Sirius makes a snide comment towards Remus, Remus can fire back with one equally snide. Whenever James starts babbling about things that Peter doesn't understand, Remus can keep up and ask questions without seeming stupid. Remus is a lot like Peter, but there's just something there—and Peter doesn't think it's intelligence, but it's something akin to it—that makes him a good, exciting friend.

And whatever it is, Peter doesn't have it.

At first, Peter tries to be just like James. He copies James' excitement and nonchalant attitude. He runs his hand through his thin, blond hair (it doesn't have the same effect, but he does it anyway). He thinks that perhaps he'll play Quidditch someday. He could be on the same team as James. Wouldn't that be grand?

Then Peter realizes that he's started too high. James is perfect, so Peter needs to aim a bit lower. So he makes jokes that he isn't entirely sure are kind, just like Sirius. In second year (after they'd already found out about Remus), Peter makes a rather unsavory joke about werewolves to Remus' face. Remus jokes about werewolves all the time, but there's something about Peter's joke that makes him go pale and shaky. He laughs it off, but Peter feels awful. He stops trying to be like Sirius. Sirius sometimes makes Peter feel bad about himself, and he doesn't want to do that to anyone else.

Peter decides to aim even lower. He's going to be like Remus, who seems to fit in without even trying. Peter tries for Remus' brand of deadpan humor. He sits with his hands folded, just like Remus. He lets his mouth twist upwards when he's happy instead of breaking into a huge grin. He tries to be kind to everyone, even when it isn't true. He starts lying a little bit more, just like Remus—about tiny things, just like Remus. Peter even begins to do schoolwork more, like Remus.

James and Sirius seem playfully exasperated about Remus' desire to do well in school. "That's our Moony," they say, shaking their heads and going outside to play Quidditch. But when Peter stays in to study, they look at him and scoff. "It's not that hard, Peter. You don't really need to revise for the Potions exam. It's the first one of the year. It's gonna be easy. How thick can you get?"

So Peter stops trying to be like Remus. He isn't sure what secret ingredient Remus has that makes James and Sirius love him unconditionally, but Peter has no good relationship with his friends. Even Remus seems to prefer James' company to Peter's on occasion, even though Remus and Peter are supposed to be best mates.

After a while, Peter starts to notice flaws in his friends. They are no longer the paragons of light that he once thought they were. Peter, ironically, notices flaws in Remus first.

Remus is self-pitying and self-centered. Everything always has to be about him. Whenever Peter tells him something even remotely sensitive, he can tell that Remus is pitying himself in his head, even though he doesn't say it aloud. Remus' life is worse; Remus' life is always worse. Peter doesn't mind at first, because Remus is right. But... after a while, it gets tiring.

And Remus pretends that he thinks something of Peter, but Peter knows that too much of it is a farce. Remus is better than Peter. He has suffered more, and he has still come out better. He is a harder worker, a better listener, and better with people. Peter's too slow, too hesitant, and not funny enough for Remus' tastes. And Remus knows it—he's just too polite to say so.

That hurts more than Sirius and James' disparaging comments, actually. With James and Sirius, it's obvious that the three of them are not on equal footing. But Remus seems to offer Peter crumbs of friendship that taste sweet in Peter's mouth and turn to plastic as they go down. Does Remus even like Peter? Peter isn't sure.

Oh, perhaps he's overthinking things. Perhaps Remus is a much better person than Peter thinks he is. Perhaps they all are. After all, Sirius makes exactly the same belittling comments towards Remus as he does Peter—the difference is, Remus can laugh them off, and Sirius respects him for that. And James may be conceited, but there's something much brighter underneath. James is so empathetic that it almost hurts.

Peter almost wishes that he were a werewolf.

Forget almost. Peter wishes that he were a werewolf. Maybe that's the certain something that Remus has and Peter doesn't.

James and Sirius may be the mascots of the Marauders in public, but Remus is the mascot in private. He's the glue that holds their little group together. James and Sirius would never get rid of him: no, it's too much fun to be friends with a werewolf. They love it.

James bends over backwards to take care of Remus when he's poorly. Sirius relishes the danger of having a werewolf friend. Everything is always about Remus, and Peter wants everything to be about Peter. He doesn't even need all that much; he only wants people that genuinely like him. Peter is only a Marauder because of a mixture of chance and Remus. Chance gave him position: it was the reason that he was placed into the same dormitory as the rest of them in the first place. Remus gave him means: he was the one that convinced the other Marauders to treat Peter nicely, even though Peter is now trapped in a group that isn't anything like him.

Well, he's not trapped. But he wants to be.

Peter wants to be equal with his friends more than anything. He wants it so much that his heart aches. He's happy to have friends, of course, but sometimes he feels as if he is merely witnessing a friendship instead of participating.

Peter doesn't know much about the Latin language, but he does know that a moving target is much harder to hit than a stationary one. "I think I'd like Latin," says Peter.

Remus smiles—closed-mouth, as he always does—and folds his hands on his lap. "So did I," he says, "but there are better things, aren't there? And much more useful things. Like this charm, for instance—I think you're waving your wand a bit too much. Try a smaller movement. There, that's it..."

Peter resolves to enjoy his friendship, as strange as it might be. He will not be self-pitying like Remus. It doesn't matter in the long run, does it?

#peter pettigrew #young peter pettigrew #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #latin #extremely nerdy #im sorry #i don't actually know latin #i have learned what i know through the Power of the Internet

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

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Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 18 - Year 2: February

(ao3 link)

In lieu of the incident with the sleeping draught, all prefects were mandated to enroll in Professor Palpatine’s brand new weekly Potions seminars. As the misstep with the Vitamix potion along with Maul’s nearing presence showed, it was ideal that all prefects be properly trained in the event that professors were once again subdued. This, they felt, combined with Professor Fisto’s ongoing dueling club, would prepare them.

Obi-Wan’s doubts of how prepared they could possibly be for something so unpredictable grew stronger with each day. Although he was already enrolled in the advanced potions class, he would never deny the opportunity to learn more. If anything, it would at least offer more practice.

“Given that it’s February, I figured it best we start with a common favorite amongst the masses of troublemakers,” Palpatine’s shoes clicked on the ground as he paced at the front of the room.

From what Obi-Wan understood, Palpatine didn’t receive any punishment for the accidental sleeping potion brew. Yoda had, of course, received a rather scathing howler from the Ministry at his supposed flightiness, of which he took the blame for. It seemed Anakin had stepped up and claimed it was he who accidentally knocked the draught in the already brewing potion.

That all certainly added up and did not help Anakin’s reputation amongst his peers.

“Any guesses to what that would be?” Palpatine asked, eagerly taking in the small crowd of Hogwarts’ best with expectant eyes.

Because this was a class full of prefects, each were considerably decent students and wanted to learn. There were exceptions, Obi-Wan realized as he looked over to a nearly snoozing Zeb, but they were outliers.

“Love potions?” Breha Organa said rather dreamily. Obi-Wan didn’t need to turn around to know she’d been looking at Bail as she said it.

“Right you are, Breha!” Palpatine smiled, “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world, at that. Many of you and your students are for the first time diving into the wondrous and mysterious landscape that is romance. Some of you aren’t even aware that you are.”

Did he look at Obi-Wan on purpose? No, that would be silly. Palpatine always took care to rove eye contact throughout the classroom. It was a sufficient method of maintaining focus and Obi-Wan knew this, but he still shifted his gaze immediately elsewhere like he’d been caught copying homework.

“Love and potions aren’t all that different, really.” He continued, “The right and organic combination makes a fruitful and prosperous brew. The wrong and inauthentic combination is bitter and not made to last.”

“And if you’re not careful, you could end up with a wrinkly, scrawny little creature.” Zeb added knowingly, earning a few chuckles throughout the group.

“As if you’ve got anything to worry about there.” Caleb muttered, and much to Zeb’s dismay, acquired a more popular response.

“Boys, please.” Palpatine chastised, “I don’t want word to travel that Gryffindor’s prefects lost them points.”

“Cody would have an aneurysm,” Satine whispered and Obi-Wan only nodded in response. It was no secret to either of them that their friend was less than pleased with how bleak Gryffindor’s odds of obtaining either the House or Quidditch cup were becoming. If he heard that Caleb and Zeb worsened those odds, neither would be awaiting a very pretty conversation.

The troublesome two seemed to recognize this and justly shut their traps.

The class turned back to Palpatine, who seemed rather satisfied with the change in their mood and circled around the cauldron at the center of his desk. From it, emerged a pink fog that resembled a cloud at sunset and judging by the smile its scent drew from Palpatine, it smelled as pleasant as it looked.

“A love potion manufactures the deepest desires from the person who ingests it, manifesting them all at once in an intoxicating fashion that causes them to see the intended target in a different light.” He said almost reverently, “Ironically, it’s called a love potion, when it should really be called an infatuation potion.”

“That’s because you can’t build love from a substance.” Satine muttered from beside him. “Try as some might.”

Obi-Wan stared at the cauldron. He’d heard of amortentia. Evidently, a cheap ineffective version was sold at Zonko’s in Hogsmeade, though he never took much care to notice. He didn’t know much about love, save for the fact that it seemed highly unlikely for anything to recreate something as complicated as attraction.

She raised her hand, “Professor? Aren’t love potions banned at Hogwarts?”

“That they are,” Palpatine said with crossed hands, “Though that’s not to say they haven’t been smuggled in before.”

“Why would they do that?” A familiar high pitched voice from the back called.

Despite his interest in the subject, Obi-Wan couldn’t resist snapping his neck in turning to see none other than Anakin Skywalker sitting at the back desk, looking incredibly small in stature next to Onaconda Farr. Farr, in his defense, looked just as confused by Anakin’s presence as Obi-Wan felt.

“What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan asked him, “This is supposed to be for prefects only.”

“Not to worry, Mr. Kenobi, I did grant Anakin permission to attend.” Palpatine answered before Anakin could muster up a smart response, “Anakin shows a real knack for potions and given the circumstances, I would say it’s best that he be included whenever he could be protected.”

Obi-Wan slumped back in his chair, feeling properly admonished. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Anakin was capable. It was quite the opposite, actually, but there was an order to these things and learning advanced spells before one was ready did not seem indicative of a sound idea. Anakin needed to learn the building blocks still, whether he believed it or not. Despite his talent, he knew there was an absence of maturity to handle heavy source material. Dueling was one thing, as there was an obvious precedence for it right now and it was typically taught to some degree during second year anyway. Teaching Anakin about love potions felt more like giving a dog a steak and telling him not to eat it. He could try to convince everyone that he was over his crush on Padmé all he wanted, but it simply wasn’t true.

“To answer your question, Anakin,” Palpatine continued, “When someone is too blind with desperation to see reason, they will do just about anything to acquire what they want. A love potion, while sounding frilly and fun, occludes all rational thinking from the person it's given to.”

“And typically, it’s not ingested voluntarily.” Satine added.

Obi-Wan frowned, thinking of the potentially dastardly effects such a tool could provide for a desperately lovesick person. It was no different than being under a curse, in a sense, because the poor sap trapped in such a state had no agency whatsoever.

“How does one tell if someone is suffering from the effects of a love potion?” Fenn Rau asked.

“Why, you see them every day in young and happy couples as you walk through these halls. They’re starry-eyed, flushed, unspeakably happy, practically in a trance.”

“How are we to tell the difference then?” Obi-Wan asked.

“These features tend to be a good deal more exemplified and elongated.” Palpatine said, “For instance, while the honeymoon phase is technically normal, it’s really not meant to last. There’s also known to be loss of memory in the person as the potion begins to fade. We advise that you all keep an eye and see if you notice any excessively clingy and almost controlling couples.”

Obi-Wan thought about his parents, finding it very hard to believe they ever had any semblance of a honeymoon phase. They were so professional all the time that he’d rarely seen them even smile in the other’s presence. Of course, he was always splitting up sneaky couples that tried to sneak off to snog, so he supposed he did have some experience witnessing what Palpatine was referring to. Part of him was having a difficult time reconciling with the fact that it was their ancient potions professor who was explaining to them the complexities of romance.

“Because of the dangers that this possesses,” He waved a little pink vial around for all to show, allowing the light to catch it in a way that made it sparkle, “I believe it’s important that you understand these properties quite well and that you take care not to share this information outside of this room.”

There was a warning tone to his voice that was rarely used and Obi-Wan swore everyone sat up even straighter, though he doubted that was possible for Satine, who already appeared quite alert.

“It’s okay to take notes, of course, right?” Hondo asked from the other back corner of the room opposite to Anakin.

“Yes, but-” The older man did a double take as he whipped back around, “Hondo, what are you doing here?”

Obi-Wan thought it was fairly obvious what Hondo was doing and why he was suddenly so apt to take notes. He hadn’t thought to say anything when he originally saw him, seeing as if Anakin was invited, maybe he’d thought to include another unexpected guest. Hondo was possessed for a significant amount of time, after all.”

“Just trying to perfect my recipe is all.” Hondo had the gall to shrug, “What’s so wrong about that?”

“You mean besides intruding upon a meeting where you are not welcome and admitting in advance that you intend to sell an illegal substance throughout the school?” Palpatine asked, “I suppose we could discuss your time management skills, seeing as you have plenty of potion’s homework that you could be catching up on.”

Reading the room for a change, Hondo sighed like a great disservice had just been done to him, “You can’t fault a guy for trying.”

“Actually, I can. 15 points from Slytherin.” Palpatine crossed his arms, “And I expect your essay on Felix Felicis on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“My tutor isn’t going to like that.” Hondo grumbled as he walked by Obi-Wan, “He’s not even finished my Charms presentation.”

“Why would you say that to us?” Satine hissed, knowing full well that they were now going to have to look up the legitimacy of Hondo’s new “tutor” in their dwindling free time.

“I’m honest to a fault!” He shrugged as he fully exited the room and was promptly locked out by Palpatine. He even took the effort of using two padlocks to secure the job. To be fair, Hondo was quite slippery.

“Now,” He said as he clapped his hands together once, “Why don’t we get to the important part? Brewing!”

***

This was a colossal waste of his time, skills, and resources.

While Sidious normally enjoyed when the school devolved into chaos, he did not appreciate when it stood in the way of his plans. Right now, his former apprentice was the obstacle that could feasibly destroy everything he’d worked tirelessly to achieve, all before it could truly start.

He knew he should have killed him when he had the chance, but Azkaban just seemed all the more fitting for the murder machine to waste his days away at the hand of his own failure. He would not make that mistake ever again.

So, it seemed Sidious’ own interests aligned with the rest of his colleagues: get rid of Maul. It felt peculiar- to be on the same side as the enemy, but if he wanted to defeat them, he needed this loose cannon of a pawn to be decimated before it was too late.

And through it all, the putrid “open-minded” community only served to remind him why they needed to be brought to an end. In what world would enlisting the Potions professor to teach love potions be useful? How he managed to seem convincing, he was unsure, because there was no greater waste of time than the frivolous pursuit of love. Well, unless it was being manipulated as a fulcrum for change.

Even with as little soul as he had remaining, if any, he still found the smell of amortentia to be utterly arousing. They certainly wouldn’t enjoy to know what he smelled when he breathed in amortentia: fire, ash, rubble, stained blood.

They should be barricading, sending students out in troves to hunt the demon down, and utilize the muggle-borns as bait in a trap to be sprung. Maul couldn’t resist the hunt. He knew such instincts never changed, not even from the waning sense of purpose that Azkaban reduced men to.

Instead, here he was, giving a pointless lecture on the dangers of love potions. After which, they’ll have another practice dueling session with snowballs. It was pitiful. At the very least, they should be using stones. Children needed to learn pain at an early age. They needed to become so familiar with the sensation that they found home in it. In the hearth of that home, is the power that exists from within. Only then, can they prevail.

He glanced to the back corner of the room and felt his lips twitch. Between this year and the last, Skywalker was becoming quite acquainted with pain. He grimaced as he took in the rest of the lot, noting how soft they all were as they nervously discovered what attracted them when they leaned over their brewing cauldrons. At least he’d been able to kick that waste of blood Ohnaka out. He was spared of that particular headache, especially when just looking at the boy angered him to no end when he considered how deeply that botched experiment failed. Truly, that family couldn’t do anything right- not even when under hypnosis.

He had no doubts that Maul was scoping out the land, realizing just how weak these wizards had gotten since he was in school- that his lessons from Sidious had always reigned supreme and that no one stood in his way, save for Yoda and Sidious, himself. That would be disastrous if anyone witnessed a reunion between the two. They would know instantly.

Then again, if Sidious were to capture and kill Maul, he would only further his popularity amongst the simpletons that allegedly “ran” their community. Perhaps, there could be salvaging of this wreck. Tyranus need not be the only one to pull strings in the wake of Maul’s drama. It was only fitting, since Sidious was the marionettist and this was to be his show.

Not only that, but such a feat would certainly impress the boy, who clearly had a sound reason for disliking Maul. While Sidious loathed the concept of needing to work towards the trust and approval of a child, understood that in due time, it would be worth it.

Even if such a boy nearly killed them all with his own klutziness.

Sidious breathed a steadying breath, just barely turned away from any possible lingering gazes.

He moved over to his desk and opened the top drawer. He needed a drink.

***

Satine, like many of the curious girls in her year, had done fair research on the subject of amortentia. Apparently, it had ruined its fair share of marriages as well as mental health states, making it completely illegal to produce for private or public subsidization. It seemed, curiously, only the aurors could do so with Ministry approval. That, much to Satine’s confusion, was the case for many subjects.

“Because I would hate to have a bunch of little zombies in my class, we’ll just be smelling the potions today.” Palpatine announced.

Despite her knowledge that amortentia affected everyone differently, she still wasn’t quite expecting the drunk-like sensation that filled her up from head to toe as she took a deep breath in from the fumes that emanated off the surface. Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion and her chest rose and fell with the relaxed notion of falling asleep, except she simultaneously never felt more stimulated in her life.

She’d never known that you could smell so many wonderful things at once yet still differentiate them for what they were and more importantly, how it got her flushed in a way that made her shift in her seat.

New books, homemade apple pie, crisp fall air, the lingering remnants of a minty aftershave wrapping around her like a scarf…

She started out of her reverie, blushing too mad to even consider looking to her left no matter how curious she suddenly was. Her heart was beating out of her chest and if she wasn’t absolutely certain of the potency of amortentia, she’d have the decency to be more embarrassed. Instead, she willed herself to calm down and refused to breathe through her nose any further, no matter how warm she felt when she had.

While none of what she witnessed was news to her per say, it wasn’t like she made a habit of lollygagging and daydreaming in the middle of a classroom setting. It was quite disarming to be so vulnerable yet also so close to what (or who, for that matter) was driving her crazy to begin with.

“Problem, Mr. Kenobi?” Palpatine was suddenly standing in front of them, which was at least a little bit of a distraction.

A ringing in her brain wanted desperately to ask him what he smelled, but she felt herself frown deeply when she noticed Obi-Wan was leaning with his entire face in his little cauldron, trying desperately to catch a whiff. Surely, if he got any closer, he was going to accidentally inhale the potion through his nose.

“I might have brewed it incorrectly.” He muttered, echoing a bit from still having his head in the cauldron.

“Let me see,” Palpatine urged him to lift his head and under normal circumstances, Satine might tease him for the little creases that the rim brought to his face.

The professor raised his nose to the fumes that still wafted through the air and smiled dreamily. She wondered if they would ever know what he was seeing when he inhaled the scent. It was none of their business to ask, but she really couldn’t picture Palpatine being in love with anyone.

“No, no, it’s perfectly correct,” He said with the airs of residual glee, “Why?”

Instead of giving him a straight answer, Obi-Wan turned to Satine, “I think I need you to move.”

Any previous concern, as per usual with Obi-Wan, was replaced with a scalding sort of annoyance only reserved for him, “What? Why?”

As she held her own special adverse reaction to him, he had one for her that matched. His eyebrows furrowed as he gestured to his cauldron. Sometimes, he was far too serious for his own good, “As lovely as your perfume is, you don’t need to go so heavy-handed with it! I can’t smell the potion.”

Satine, who initially believed they were going to get into an argument, found that she had no points to be made, because all that came out of her mouth was a little puff of air. Palpatine, if she had the eyes to spare him a look, was equally as surprised, even if not nearly as emotionally invested in such a rebuff.

“What?” Obi-Wan finally asked, growing more annoyed at not being in on the punchline.

Everyone else was suspiciously quiet too, much to Satine’s growing unease, but she could hardly spare a thought other than to say, “I’m out of perfume, actually. I sent Copikla home yesterday so my mum could send me a new bottle.”

Instead of being annoyed, the clouds seemed to clear, if only a little bit, and he flickered back to the potion, “But how-”

“-It smells different to everyone.” Palpatine, who looked between the two of them with his face stretched in discomfort and eyebrows raised beyond physics, clarified with a tone that was clearly meant for only them, “Based on what the individual finds attractive.”

All of the color seemed to wash out of Obi-Wan’s charmingly embarrassed face as his mind worked rapidly to wrap his head around that answer. Even though she hadn’t breathed in her potion again, Satine still swore she was suddenly feeling the effects of it.

“I- Well,” He tried to formulate a response, but to his credit, he had just admitted that he was at the very least attracted to her perfume (which she made the mental note to stock up on more frequently), in front of the entire class of prefects and Anakin.

“Oooooooh Obi-Wan likes perfume.” Anakin, while completely missing the point and a big teasing opportunity, shattered the tension that previously froze the entire room and everyone burst out into a fit of needed laughter. Even Obi-Wan laughed, though nervously, as he flashed Satine the occasional glance here and there through lowered lashes, as if trying to gage her reaction to this accidental admission.

She smiled. Clearly, it was to her benefit to read ahead of him.

“For what it’s worth,” She said in the midst of the uncontrollable chatter that erupted thanks to Anakin’s offhand comment, “You smell nice too.”

He blushed, which she found she quite liked the shade of pink on his face, “Thanks.”

It didn’t address the underlying implications, just as neither of them seized the moment to do so on Christmas Eve. She found it was just as frustrating trying to guess what was going on inside of his head as it was waiting for him to do something about the things she did know.

As much as she wanted the cat to be fully out of the bag, she knew the middle of Palpatine’s potions class wasn’t the time or place.

***

“I believe it’s a mistake to have any more Hogsmeade trips this year,” Qui-Gon said to his other heads of house and to Yoda, who was staring quite pensively out the window, “Not when we know what we know. It’s quite possible that Maul has an entrance to the school if he truly is behind what happened to Bultar Swan.”

“We have no real proof that he is, though.” Shaak Ti said, “It certainly doesn’t seem like his style.”

“While I know the usual term “innocent until proven guilty” is our mantra, I think we should consider being more hesitant with Maul.” Qui-Gon said.

“I agree,” Windu nodded, standing firmly next to him, “Though having more students out of the school would allow us a proper amount of time to sweep the school and see if he had any secret entrances.”

“We have that same opportunity at night.” Qui-Gon said.

“You know this school shifts and changes between night and day,” Palpatine said warily, “It is ever-moving and Bultar Swan was attacked in broad daylight in a common room.”

“Why are we not interviewing more Ravenclaws then?” Windu asked, “We’ve got to do something! Skywalker’s mother is missing and we all know that boy isn’t going to lay down and allow for speculation to simply rise without doing something foolish.”

“I don’t appreciate your assumptions of Anakin.” Qui-Gon said, “He’s a bright, even if impulsive boy, who is going through an unspeakable grief.”

“No one twice his age should have to endure what he’s going through,” Shaak Ti said kindly, “Let alone as young as he.”

“I’m not saying he has no reason to act out.” Windu raised his hands, “I’m merely stating that it is only a matter of time before he takes matters into his own hands.”

“That would make it easier for Maul, unfortunately,” Palpatine agreed, “Perhaps we should motion to shut off the Floo network?”

“Done that, I have.” Yoda spoke up, “Because used it, he did.”

“For what?” Qui-Gon asked eagerly.

“Unknown location, he accessed.” Yoda mused, “Unregistered through the network, it is. Talk to Dooku, I suspect.”

Palpatine frowned, “That can’t be good.”

“No, it can’t.” Windu agreed, “Can you extend your protective charms to Hogsmeade, Yoda?”

“Do that, I did, after we woke up from the sleeping incident.”

“Oh, so it’s safe then.” Shaak Ti shrugged, “The dementors haven’t detected Maul on the inside and he was last seen on Diagon Alley.”

“I’m sure this is quite exhausting for you, Headmaster.” Windu acknowledged.

It was true. Extending his powers over an entire settlement as well as the castle at all times would have drained any normal wizard to death. Yoda, as it were, was not a normal wizard. Even still, it was visible on his worn features that he was exhausted.

“Safe, the students should be,” He said instead, “But careful we will still be. Search the school we will for secret entrances while they are gone, we will.”

***

“Are they gone yet?” Anakin asked, ducking up from where he’d been digging furiously through his trunk. Rex who was sitting on the window sill keeping watch over the massive gates of Hogwarts nodded slowly.

“Yeah I think so,” He confirmed, stretching his arms above his head and yawning, “I dunno mate, don’t you think a nice Saturday in might be nicer than trying this again. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Psh!” Anakin waved a hand, “Well we’re certainly not trying anything like that again. Although I would like to get another look at that sword.”

“I figured you’d seen enough swords in your short life,” Rex rolled his eyes, “Didn’t Dooku intend to sacrifice you with one?”

“It was still cool, but I’m not really trying to go to Hogsmeade, just give off a good impression.” Anakin shrugged before he pulled out his nicest T-Shirt, swiftly pulling the one he had been wearing off and switching them out, “Well how do I look?”

“The same but in green,” Rex deadpanned leaning his head on his hand, “If all we’re doing up here is playing dress up then I’d much rather get this show on the road.”

“Oh come on,” Anakin checked himself out in the dingy mirror on the back of the door. He was really hoping he’d run into Padmé; he thought she’d like it. He’d already seen her leave, but overheard her talking to her friends about Rabé meeting them later and taking the tunnels. His mum had bought it for him over the summer and he tried to push past the rising feeling of sadness, “We had to wait until all the prefects left anyways, I’m not really looking to be caught and dragged back here by any of them and especially not Zeb, who was eyeing us up pretty hard at breakfast.”

Rex shuddered, “Definitely don’t need him tossing us through the portrait hole again. It’s not our fault that the rest of the second years left without us!”

“I’d hate to see what happens if we’re caught alone of our own accord,” Anakin grinned, despite the true statement, such a thing wouldn’t stop them, “Well, let’s go before Windu gets here to babysit.”

“Right,” Rex grimaced, standing up and grabbing his wand. Anakin grabbed his as well, throwing it into his robe, it was much too cold to go around without it, and they headed down and out of the common room. He really hoped no one would snitch on them.

The two traversed the halls carefully. Keeping quiet for once to listen for approaching footsteps and ducking into a few empty classrooms to avoid the ghosts lurking around the otherwise empty halls. It took much longer than they’d have liked to make it down to where the tunnel’s entrance would begin. Luckily, the map showed Rabé’s little figure moving in that direction too, marking a bit of a clear path. She would lead them straight to Padmé.

Anakin’s heart rate increased for more reasons than being caught.

He thought better of it. Obi-Wan would probably kill him on the spot if he slithered out of the tunnel and into Hogsmeade. Not to mention, Maul was lurking around in the area looking for him. Maybe, if they caught up with Rabé in the tunnel, he could simply give her the necklace to give to Padmé.

It didn’t sound incredibly indicative of his house in terms of bravery, but he knew at least Obi-Wan would approve of his method.

“Almost there!” Anakin grinned at Rex, but almost had his head knocked clean from his body when Rex grabbed his robe and yanked him hard into an empty classroom, “Wha-?”

“Shh!!” Rex was very much alert and his eyes narrowed as they both heard footsteps echoing off the walls. The footsteps paused just outside of the door and Rex cursed under his breath as a shadow moved towards the entrance. Rex glared at Anakin for a few minutes before mouthing, ‘You owe me!’ and straightening.

“Mr. Fett?” Palpatine’s confused voice echoed off the stone walls, “What are you doing here? And all alone?”

“Sorry Professor,” Rex gave Palpatine a rather over the top concerned look, “It’s just, I haven’t seen Anakin since breakfast and he did mention he was thinking about coming to see you.”

“To see me?” The professor sounded a little more surprised than Anakin thought he should, but perhaps he was trying to avoid looking like he picked favorites, “Well I certainly haven’t seen him. I’ll keep an eye out, but I’m going to need to escort you outside with the other second years.”

Anakin winced, of course even Palpatine wouldn’t be willing to overlook a student wandering the halls without an escort. He’d have to bring Rex back something good from Hogsmeade.

“Alright, thank you Professor,” Rex nodded, although he didn’t look very thankful in Anakin’s opinion.

Their footsteps faded away, but still Anakin waited a minute longer before darting from the classroom himself.

He wandered the empty halls, being extra careful to listen and flicker his eyes to the map. Rex was a little more perceptive than he tended to be. Anakin certainly didn’t want to get caught, but at least he knew what story to go with if he did.

Finally, he reached the entrance of the tunnel, looking around carefully, he quickly slipped inside and hurried to close the entrance, plunging him into complete darkness.

Anakin pulled his wand out, lighting it with a, “Lumos Maxima,” They’d been working to improve their maximizing skills in charms recently and Anakin felt it was paying off. The tunnels were rather boring and unremarkable. He remembered them being pretty long, though he’d never made it all the way to the end the last time.

He took his time, kicking away rocks and humming softly. He still didn’t want to give his position away if there was someone scouting the tunnel for mischievous students, but boredom without Rex crept in fast.

He paused a moment at an odd noise and listened hard. It was a soft shuffling noise and despite the echo, it sounded like it was coming from behind him. Could it be another student trying the same thing he was? Unlikely, most of the houses were pretty locked down outside. He wasn’t sure why the professors had been so insistent on a supervised snow day, but most students went for it.

That left the possibility that he was about to be caught.

Letting the fear of boring evenings in detention spur him on, he picked up the pace until he was running rather swiftly. With the way his wand was swinging, the light bounced around enough to make him motion sick so he gave it a quiet, “Nox,” not letting up on the speed of which his shoes pounded the ground.

He slowed when he nearly tripped over something lying on the ground, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid running right into someone.

Anakin fell backwards with an, “oof,” He tried to catch his breath for a moment, “Sorry, Rabé,” He said softly standing up, “While I’ve got you, I’ve got a question for you. Lumos.”

His wand tip glowed again, revealing him face to face with a student’s face frozen in a scream. This was not Rabé. Anakin stumbled back, tripping on what felt like the fabric of a scarf, before he saw the glint of eyes reflecting the light off his wand.

Yellow. Bright yellow eyes narrowing as they realized they’d been caught. Anakin felt his heart leap in his chest. Fear filling his lungs, causing him to nearly choke on a scream. He heard the eyes take a step forward and he scrambled to his feet and fell into a sprint. His wand light faded as his concentration waned and he shoved it into his robes.

He shouldn’t be running from Maul, because that’s who it was, of course. He’d vowed revenge even if Qui-Gon always gave him that sad sort of look when he said it. He should be back there giving that kidnapper a piece of his mind. He was the Chosen One, it was his job to save everyone and take down the bad guys.

Even as these thoughts played in his mind, he continued to sprint, fear pushing him into overdrive. He nearly screeched again when he ran full tilt into something human knocking them both to the ground.

“Bloody hell!”

“Rex!” Anakin was relieved to find someone he knew, but it wasn’t enough to stop the adrenaline that had him back on his feet and pulling desperately on Rex’s arm to get him to move, “We have to go now!”

“Great, I just escape Palpatine only to get caught again. Who is it? Windu?” Anakin nearly growled at the slow pace Rex was moving at.

“It’s Maul! We have to go!” That was enough to get him moving.

They didn’t stop to even breathe again until they burst from the wall and right into Professors Palpatine and Qui-Gon who nearly got bowled over.

“What-” Qui-Gon looked ready to start a lecture and Palpatine even looked like he was ready to dole out a few point reductions, but Rex cut them off quickly.

“Anakin saw him!” Rex was pointing his wand at the entrance to the tunnel like Maul was about to come out right then and there for a fight.

“Saw who?” Palpatine asked head tilting to the side in curiosity and Anakin nearly spat the name out as he joined Rex in his battle stance.

“Maul.”

***

The deafening screech that stretched from Hogwarts through Hogsmeade with painful clarity was one that very few students attributed meaning to. It wasn’t unreasonable that students, particularly younger ones, immediately leapt into disorder, running hither and yon, terrified they were about to be dive-bombed. It was a horrible sight to see, even if it didn’t make his job all the more difficult.

Designed with the vocal cords of mandrakes, the emergency siren was only used in times of utter duress and was a means of warning students and faculty to return to Hogwarts at once. Historically, it hadn’t been officially sounded since the early twentieth century. Even still, prefects were always trained on what to do in the event of hearing the siren.

All the training in the world still didn’t fully prepare Obi-Wan for the very real visceral reaction that the ear-splitting sound brought. Of course, he could not spare a single moment to think, a tough reality for a Ravenclaw, and immediately moved forward with what he’d been taught: gather his house, ensure they were all in company, and get them back to the school.

While not given a direct message with it, everyone seemed to share the same thought as he did. There was only one true reason that the archaic alarm would be used right now accompanied by the dementors that jetted across the sky: Maul was close.

Not only close, but likely in their midst.

Shop owners wasted little time in evacuating their premises and battening down the hatches, effectively snuffing the warm glow of Hogsmeade in a singular swoop. His brain was busy scanning the hysterical crowd that was amid constant motion, searching for every and any blue-robed student that he might come across. It occurred to him now that there was perhaps more meaning to the explicitly placed Hogsmeade dress code than the professors led on to. It certainly made rounding up students a lot easier when they were color-coded.

Moving around on the ice-laden stone walkways? Less easy. He’d not only had to catch his own balance in his haste, but many other wobbly students. Even Satine’s elbow was caught by him a time or two, of which she spared no time to thank him, though he knew otherwise she would. She was just as stern as him in their mission, practically grabbing students and sliding them across the way to the huddle of other students, hardly blinking in the process.

It was with this goal in mind that he was able to develop a razor focus that practically tuned out the alarm. That, or the pounding in his ears did a decent job of it. Silently, he found the space to be relieved that Anakin was safe back at the castle with the other younger students.

It couldn’t have taken more than a couple of minutes to successfully corral all of the students that lingered about. It wasn’t as though any of them truly wanted to sneak off, after all. The horror on everyone’s faces spoke volumes of their concern.

Each of the prefects did their headcounts rapidly, trying not to dawdle for a moment longer than necessary, all praying they reached the same number they started with. He felt capable of breathing again when Ravenclaw reached that quota. Gryffindor prefects, it seemed, had forgotten to include themselves for a moment, which briefly induced a panic that was quickly assuaged by an irritated Mace Windu.

Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous to be relieved that Mace Windu and Kit Fisto were the supervising professors that day, but it certainly helped their odds to have experienced fighters of dark magic alongside them. The sky grew dark above them, not from the descending sun, but from the mere presence of the dementors swarming together like an ominous storm cloud.

No one looked back as they were ushered down through the storm cellar beneath Honeydukes, which remained open only at Windu’s order.

“Move quickly, don’t linger, don’t stop, don’t pause!” He ordered in a booming voice that didn’t even need to be amplified with a charm.

While Gryffindor’s prefects had nobly volunteered to lead the charge of students down and through the tunnel, the others remained on the side, performing last-minute counts to ensure all made it safely while urging them to hurry it up. No one seemed to have a problem with performing the latter, but some were getting a little rowdy in the process.

“Hey, hey, this is not an excuse to push or shove!” Satine chastised a few overeager Slytherins, “The only way this works is if you work together!”

She was right, of course, but Obi-Wan believed it was falling on deaf ears. They were terrified and rightfully so. Perhaps they shouldn’t have allowed the Hogsmeade trip to occur in the first place with everything going on. It was almost like they were trying to lure Maul in. If that was the case, it was a very sadistic choice.

Padmé Amidala as well as her friends had been some of the last people to filter in, surprisingly, and tears stained their cheeks.

“Keep it moving, ladies!” Kit Fisto ordered.

“We can’t find Rabé!” Sabé, the girl who looked most like Padmé, cried.

“I’m sure she’s here somewhere.” Windu said, “Slytherin house reported no missing students based on their earlier count. Now GO!”

“She came later!” Padmé insisted, pushing back against the hands of Fenn Rau, who was trying to make them descend down the ladder. “We never saw her!”

“Then maybe she never came at all?” Satine tried.

“She came.” Padmé looked between both of them, “I know she did! She wouldn’t flake out on us like that. What if something horrible happened to her? What if-”

“-We can explore these possibilities back at Hogwarts.” Windu said, “If she is indeed missing, I will waste no time in coming back for her. I promise you.”

“That is already a waste of time!” Sabé protested, “What if she’s hurt?”

“I cannot risk all of you, including these prefects, for one possibly lingering student. I need to get you back to safety. The tunnels will be locked behind us.” Windu said and waved his wand to provide a gust of air, sending all of the girls down the tunnel against their own will. Satine looked horrified at the choice and frankly, so did Windu for a moment, before he began insisting the prefects follow.

For Obi-Wan, time began to slow down as his brain methodically and almost mechanically traced back through that day, desperately trying to recall if he’d seen Rabé. She stood out among Padmé’s friends in that she was the only Slytherin and yet it was still odd to see them apart. Before the alarm had turned the world on its head, it had been a rather mundane and peaceful day at Hogsmeade. The weather had been nice, if not quite nippy. He’d popped into Tomes & Scrolls with Satine while Cody lingered around Spintwitches, but none of them bought anything. If they had, surely, it would have been lost in the chaos with many other student’s purchases.

He’d debated getting a box of every flavor beans, since Hondo said he had a game of Russian Roulette, but with the beans, brewing. Cody seemed interested and it sounded like less of a consequential gaming experience than Hondo’s usual ventures. He wasn’t afforded the opportunity to go into Honeydukes, but…

Obi-Wan felt his heart stop altogether in his chest. He hadn’t gone into Honeydukes, but he almost did. And who was lingering by the butterbeer stand when he was busy deliberating with Cody?

Rabé.

He’d only caught a glimpse of her for a fraction of a second before he turned around. Clear as daylight and standing at the far end of Hogsmeade. There were other Slytherins around her, but like Padmé, her hair was always intricately woven and this made her stand out.

Where did she go so that none of her friends saw her?

“She was here today,” Obi-Wan lurched forward, grabbing Satine by the arm on instinct.

“How do you know?” She began to ask, eyes searching his own with growing concern.

“I saw her.” He said and then shoved against the stream of students that were still pouring down the tunnel.

“Ben,” It was her turn to grab him, “Wait!”

He didn’t wait, though. Instead, he slipped out of her grasp, which had been firm enough to take his robe with it, and pushed through the crowd. Windu, never the slouch, noticed him instantly and his eyes widened as he realized what Obi-Wan was trying to do. Unlike Padmé and the girls, he didn’t give him the opportunity to stop him, instead lunging forward and falling into an immediate sprint out the door- the cold wind whipping his face so hard that it caused tears to freeze in their wake.

He vaguely heard his name shouted from behind him, but he could only think of finding Rabé before it was too late. It might have been impulsive and it was definitely foolish, but he wouldn’t be able to leave with a clear conscience unless he did everything in his power to bring every student back safely. He understood that the professors needed to do their duty, but Obi-Wan was to be an auror someday. Running into the line of fire was surely a requirement of such a field.

All he could think of was how he knew what it was like to be forgotten. If there was even a small chance of preventing someone else from befalling that fate, he had to try.

Running across the slick stone walkway proved itself to be even more difficult than walking had, but Obi-Wan was utilizing the forward motion that the ice provided him for acceleration. The sky above him was almost completely black- as though Hogsmeade was at risk for being sucked into outer space. Suddenly, the cold that Obi-Wan felt no longer seemed to be as a result from the climate.

He’d studied dementors a good deal over the years and objectively understood how they drained a person from their hopes and dreams, removing the parts of them that basically made them human, but he realized then that he never really knew. He wasn’t even the target for these dementors and just being in their presence made him feel like all color was depleting from the landscape.

He forced himself through it, focusing on the task at hand and what purpose that gave him. He decided to slide by the (now closed) butterbeer stand at the end, where he’d last seen Rabé. After all, it was entirely possible that he was the last person to see her alive. That certainly didn’t give him much comfort.

He turned his head from side to side, trying with a last stitch effort to see if she’d taken refuge in one of the closed shops. The keepers were kind and would more than likely house a lost student during a crisis such as this.

As dread pooled deeper in the pit of his stomach and his body struggled to fight off the shaky chill that climbed its way up his spine, he dared to look up, noticing that the dementors were no longer searching, but swarming. The snowfall only seemed to thicken, which was rather unfortunate as Obi-Wan had to swipe his arm over his eyes several times to continue seeing.

They congregated at the Three Broomsticks- in front of which, Obi-Wan did not stop, but in his haste, did meet the bloodshot amber eyes of none other than the Dathomirian known as Maul. In their midst, Obi-Wan found he would rather embark on a lengthy stay with a dementor than look another second into the killer’s eyes. He was leaning back in his seat with casual aplomb and raised his stein of butterbeer as though in cheers or celebration, selling the chilling lack of regard for life with a cruel smile curling his black and red lips.

It was if he was saying, “I’ve won.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and averted his gaze immediately, understanding that this might be his final moment. If that were so, he would use it wisely.

“No, you won’t.”

Maul’s smile broadened, resembling the actual devil as he did so.

Yes, Obi-Wan was definitely about to die.

However, the moment ended as quick as it started, for once the dementors dive bombed past Obi-Wan and straight for Maul, he flipped a galleon into the air and caught it, allowing himself to disappear to whatever rock he dragged himself from before.

Obi-Wan only thundered forward until he arrived at the end of the limits of the town, sighing deeply and wincing at the wreath of frost that circled his head as he caught his breath. He was immensely cold and with nothing to do about it and worse, began to feel quite defeated. Part of him wanted to rationalize that Rabé did likely go back to the castle. However, whether it was intuition or simply an unknown magic in the air, he could practically feel the presence of another.

Then, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed something poking out of the snow- just next to an old townhome, and drew closer. His steps were heavy and without hopeful anticipation as he regarded the gray fingers breaking through the massive snowdrift.

He knelt down slowly, and raised his wand to blow away the piles of snow and ice and used his hands to remove the last remnants on his own. Attached to the outstretched hand, which served as much as a warning as it did a signal of distress, was the petrified gray face of Rabé.

***

“You have to go back for him!” Satine demanded as she was practically carried by Fisto all the way back to Hogwarts. It had been the only way they were able to prevent her from slipping after Obi-Wan in a panic-induced gut-reaction. She believed he was an idiot for running off the way he did, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t understand the feeling.

“The dementors are mobilizing, Satine!” Windu turned on her with fire in his eyes, “Had Mr. Kenobi not been so uncharacteristically impetuous, we wouldn’t be here.”

“And there would still be a lost child out there!” She growled, not usually one to ever speak to a professor so brazenly, but this was Obi-Wan they were talking about, and she would always be a bit irrational when it came to him. “It doesn’t seem like anyone really cares about that though!”

“Not care? I would lay down my life for every single one of you. Do you think it pleases me to know that not one, but two students could be suffering at the hands of that animal on my watch?” Windu said hotly, “But I cannot jeopardize the dementors potentially catching a murderous sociopath. Obi-Wan would not want me to do that!”

She knew deep in her bones that he was right, but she didn’t take to it any better, instead feeling bile rise up her throat- only subdued by the way it seemed to constrict at the wretched thought of losing her best friend. The cold weight of pure dread settled on her chest, evaporating her fury and nearly suffocating all logical thought.

Nearly.

She turned on her heels back to Ravenclaw house, who were staring at her with a mixture of sympathy and shock. Satine knew she had the capacity to lose her patience, but she tried to always do so with some semblance of professionalism.

“We’ll go find him ourselves then!” Cody, equally as heated as she had been, raged alongside Echo and Fives. All were still dressed for the winter and had their wands at the ready.

“You will do no such thing.” Professor Fisto pulled Cody back by the arm, “Headmaster Yoda is the only one who can save your friend now.”

“What was the point of teaching us all that stuff if we aren’t going to use it?” Cody fired.

“In the event that there is an inescapable situation, Cody.” Fisto said, “I commend your bravery, but there is a line between courage and stupidity.”

“So, that’s it?” Echo chimed in, “We’re just going to run and hide every time a bad guy comes knocking on our door?”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to teach us defense against the dark arts!” Fives added, “I’d say Maul qualifies.”

“Maul is much more than any of you can understand or handle.” Windu’s voice no longer spoke with anger, but from a deep place that teetered on remorse and pity. There was a defeated look in his eyes that Satine would never forget, as though Maul had already won.

“Glad you’ve all been effectively wasting our time then.” Cody snarled, “Propping us up and making us feel as though we’re really doing something all year. What has all of this been? Some show for the Ministry?”

A few other Gryffindors pooled around him and it occurred to Satine just then that if Cody hadn’t been so set on pursuing Quidditch as a career, that he’d make a mighty fine commanding officer. People rallied behind him. They believed in him.

She just wished that call to order wasn’t coming from a place of wishing to fight a dark lord.

“Cody, I highly recommend that you stand down.” Fisto said, “I get that you’re upset, but we need to remain calm. Take your brothers back to the Great Hall and wait for further instructions.”

Cody was teeming with anger- she could tell just looking at him and for a moment, she feared he was going to act brashly. Windu seemed to think the same thing judging by the appraising look he gave him.

He didn’t move, but he did send Echo and Fives back with the Gryffindor prefects and the rest of the house. The other houses and their respective prefects trickled afterwards, each going to the Great Hall for what was surely to be another lockdown.

“Great, another sleepover.” Fives huffed as he went.

“Yeah, telling ghost stories by candlelight altogether will surely keep us safe.” Echo complained under his breath.

“I thought I said-” Fisto began.

“-I’m not leaving until Kenobi is found.” Cody said, “Dead or alive.”

“Don’t you dare talk like that.” She seethed, grabbing his attention instantly and Cody, to his credit, did appear riddled with guilt at her reaction.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“I expect this level of irrationality from Cody.” Windu said and eyed Satine, “But not you.”

“I’m not leaving either.” She said, clutching Obi-Wan’s robe tightly between clenched fists, “Consequences be damned.”

Where she thought there would be retribution or even more yelling, there was not. Fisto, of the two of them, actually appeared more upset. Windu, instead, nodded slightly. It seemed he understood that this was a battle he would not be winning today.

Satine scanned the area, remembering someone very curious to be missing from the pack. As if it were possible, more horror gnawed at her nerves, “Where’s Anakin?”

That was Maul’s whole purpose for scouting out the school, right?

Windu grimaced, “He did try to sneak out to Hogsmeade earlier.”

Her eyes widened, “But he’s alright?”

“It is to my understanding that young Skywalker is with Professor Jinn.” Palpatine swerved around the corner, dark cloaks flowing behind him dramatically as he reconvened with the professors, “Any update on Maul?”

“No,” Windu said tartly, “But seeing as our students have been debating on staging a coup, it might have been useful to have your presence, Professor.”

The tension, as it was, seemed unbreakable.

“My apologies, Professor Windu, but I will say these students have the right to be upset. All of our efforts to protect the school have thus far failed.” Palpatine said.

Satine also couldn’t blame everyone for being upset. In their effort to make everyone feel safe, they only propped them up with delusions of grandeur. There was a fine line to walk between keeping the student body informed and propagating debilitating fear- at least in this predicament.

“You’re here now.” Fisto said, “That’s what counts.”

Satine wasn’t so sure, but then again, Maul hadn’t broken in yet.

“Surely, it’s not wise to have students so close to the entrance.” Palpatine said.

“Yes, well, it also wasn’t wise to allow Anakin so close to your Vitamix potion.” Windu countered, “I guess we’re all doing things a bit differently right now.”

Palpatine seemed properly slapped by that, because there was little argument that could be brought up to counter the comment. That was, indeed, what happened and it left the school wide open for possible attack.

“Yoda should be back any minute.” Fisto paced the floor, his wet boots making a squeaking noise as he did so, “And hopefully, he has good news.”

“If not?” Cody asked.

“If not, we might have to help him and if that’s the case, you two will stay back.” Windu ordered.

Even Cody didn’t argue with that logic.

Not but a moment later, erratic banging came from the metal door, growing more desperate as the seconds went on. Palpatine leaned forward as if to open it and Fisto grabbed his wrist before he could perform the charm.

“There’s a password.” Fisto said.

“And why would Maul just come knocking on the front door?” Palpatine scoffed.

“Maul is anything but conventional.” Windu reasoned.

Cody and Satine looked between each other as the three professors deliberated. They were beginning to understand why it sometimes felt like it took forever for anything to get done. No one could agree on the simplest things.

“What if it’s Ben?” Satine stepped forward, “You’ve said it yourself that the tunnels are blocked off now.”

“Yoda would have found him and brought him back by apparition.” Fisto said.

“And if he didn’t?”

Windu opened his mouth to respond, but then from a familiar voice, “HELLO THERE? IS ANYONE THERE?”

She glared between the three professors, who were all a bit dumbstruck as they hastily moved to open the door. As it swung open unceremoniously, her heart resumed beating as Obi-Wan Kenobi, pale, drenched and speckled with snowflakes, practically fell through the entryway.

She moved on instinct rather than thought and caught him in a tight hug, combatting the sharp chill that traveled up her spine at his frigid body with the warm relief that he was alive. She only removed herself enough to tightly wrap his robe around his shoulders before pulling him closer.

“Get him some blankets!” Windu ordered while Palpatine was simultaneously brewing a warm beverage from thin air. Satine, for her part, could not let go.

“N-nice t-to see you t-too.” He shivered and did not reject the warm contact.

“You’re an idiot, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” She muttered into his shoulder, but it really didn’t have as much fire as she would have liked it to- not when he looked so pitiful with wet hair in his face, teeth chattering, and a nose and cheeks red from the cold.

“I’m aware.” He said.

“You could have been killed!”

“I know.”

“And you really couldn’t have at least brought your robe with you if you were going to go running off on a deadly mission?”

“You’re right.”

“Stop agreeing with me!” She leaned back and glared at him.

“My apologies,” He smiled ruefully, but it faded almost instantly, “All the trouble I’ve caused, I’m afraid it was for nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Fisto cut in.

“I saw him.” Obi-Wan’s voice was hollow when he said it. His eyes became downcast as he reminisced, “And Rabé. I couldn’t move her on my own… She was frozen in carbonite.”

Windu cursed, scrubbing a hand over his bald head, “And Maul?”

“Gone.” Obi-Wan said, “He used a portkey before the dementors could get to him.”

***

The dementors separated like parting clouds, allowing for remnants of dwindling sunlight to cast a yellow beam onto Hogsmeade. Even with the sunset behind it, the usually buzzing and quaint town looked barren without the lively folk that inhabited it. It was to their best interest to hide, of course, and he knew that once this awful storm passed, they would return again. Yoda moved slowly through the snow, feet unbothered by the crunch of the ice beneath him.

He had no doubt that Maul was here, but held equal assurance that he no longer was. His protective charms were supposed to stop people from getting in, not out.

He grimaced as he knelt to the Slytherin girl’s motionless body- frozen in time with a horrific expression painting her features. She would need to join the growing group that took up beds in Madame Nema’s hospital wing. He just hoped with everything in him that they could make this right.

It tugged at his heart that children always seemed to be the ones to suffer for the choices of adults. This one was not excluded as Yoda and the other professors deemed that it would be safe.

It should have been safe.

He cursed as he thought back to the extensive lengths he’d gone to in protecting the school. He was exhausted, constantly firing off on all cylinders to keep this place safe. Even Hogsmeade hadn’t been exempt from his reach.

Well it had, but it seemed the small window of Maul’s murder in Diagon Alley to Yoda waking up from the botched Vitamix potion was the hole he’d crawled through. The dementors hadn’t detected him, which was a whole other concern that he would need to investigate at a later time.

There were so many ways that they failed.

Yes, well, this girl’s parents will not enjoy a meager response like that, so he ought to think of something better. Either way, he would not be sleeping well for his hubris. Maul might not storm the castle with his being there, but he was not above dancing around it. He was boxed out for now, but there was only so much that could be done. He had managed to convince them to disallow apparition for the time being without Ministry approval. This combined with the monitorization of the Floo network, limited Maul significantly.

However, there were always portkeys, which was the most secure way for a person in hiding to quickly transport. You didn’t need a license for it and you didn’t even leave a trace on your wand in the process.

It seemed Maul was getting significant joy from toying with them by instilling fear. It was just like a dark wizard to play on people’s emotions as such.

And yet…

He looked back down at the girl with a different sort of befuddlement. Not that he was complaining, but why hadn’t he killed her? Was it because it would have drawn too much attention for his liking? That didn’t seem right, though, because he had no problem murdering the guards at Azkaban or that store owner on Diagon Alley. Why utilize this mysterious alternative method now?

It hadn’t been the first time, obviously. There was the first official occurrence in December, not to mention the carbon remnants found in Shmi Skywalker’s flat, and Obi-Wan and Satine’s discovery at the Shrieking Shack.

Maul had certainly developed a predilection for the long con in his time locked away in Azkaban. Yoda would say it was out of character if he didn’t understand how much a man could change from trauma. He’d seen it in his own face and he’d seen it in many other’s. Maul didn’t want to mess up this time. He wanted his target and he wanted it done right.

But why Anakin Skywalker? Surely, Maul didn’t buy into the Chosen One prophecy. And if he did, why the sudden malevolence towards the boy? Nothing from the ancient texts seemed to make any reference to Maul in the slightest. It wouldn’t have affected him in Azkaban.

Would it?

As Yoda waved his wand once to lift the casket of carbon from the ground to float aimlessly behind him, he turned back towards the castle, realizing not for the first time that the more he learned, the more he had to ask.

***

“We were worried you became a popsicle out there,” Cody said as he took off his own robe and coat to also wrap around Obi-Wan. They all sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the student body, each positioned on their own sleeping bag as they faced each other. Despite having been inside for over an hour, Obi-Wan still clutched the blankets that were given to him tightly and didn’t reject Cody’s addition to the pile.

“I’m sure he was more concerned about seeing Maul.” Satine said.

“I’m sure he was.” Ventress sauntered by with her trademark smirk painted on her black-stained lips.

“Come off it, Ventress,” Cody scowled, “Kenobi wouldn’t lie about such a thing. Dementors were there too.”

“They’ve been here the entire time, Fett.” Ventress said, “How many false scares have there been? I’m beginning to believe it’s all conspiracy, myself.”

“It’s that level of thinking that’s going to get someone seriously injured.” Satine said, “Or worse.”

“Maybe then someone will start to take legitimate action,” She sighed almost dreamily, like she was fantasizing about the possibility.

“And I suppose Rabé basically turning to stone was just nothing.” Cody barked.

“A pity, truly.” She inspected her fingernails, which were actually quite noticeably jagged and cracked with chipped black polish, “Have we not noticed that every victim has been pureblood? You don’t hear the Ministry talking about that, of course.”

“What are you getting at?” Satine growled.

“I’m just saying, Duchess,” Ventress displayed her best pout, which coming from her, still had all the appearances of a cat ready to pounce, “I would hate to see a group marginalized by their blood type.”

“Listen here, Ventress-” She clutched his sleeping bag tightly and was surely ready to fire off on a meaningful tangent of her own, but was interrupted by the sound of barreling footsteps coming their way.

Anakin and Rex came sprinting down the aisle and slid onto their knees towards where they sat. Anakin, for his part, skidded right into Obi-Wan and nearly knocked him over by the velocity at which he traveled.

“Where have you two been?” Cody asked.

“We were with Qui-Gon!” Anakin said and looked around to Obi-Wan, “Fives just told us about what happened at Hogsmeade and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Obi-Wan’s heart melted at the thought of Anakin’s concern and ruffled his hair, “Not a scratch on me.”

Anakin nodded in relief, “That’s good. It’s crazy that we both saw Maul today and he didn’t even do anything to either of us!”

Obi-Wan, Satine, Cody, and the briefly forgotten Ventress all snapped their attention towards Anakin in surprise.

“I’m sorry, what?” Satine was the first to speak.

“When and where did you see Maul?” Cody followed shortly behind.

“And you lived?” It was unclear whether Ventress was surprised or disappointed.

Obi-Wan, in all fairness, was still processing the small twelve year old boy, who presumably alone, faced the bloodthirsty killer that had it out for him. He knew he must have looked horrified, because Anakin’s own worry seemed to grow by just looking at Obi-Wan.

“I’m okay!” He said first, knowing that this was the most important thing, “And for the record, it wasn’t my fault.”

“It was a little your fault.” Rex winced.

“Rex! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Anakin whined.

“What did you do?” Obi-Wan pinched his brow.

“I already told Qui-Gon and he promised me immunity and while I don’t know for sure what that means, I’m pretty sure it means you’re not allowed to get mad.”

“That’s not what it means.” He said.

“Well, then, who’s got a decent ghost story to share?” He tried, looking around to each of them, “Ventress? I’m sure you’ve got some just by looking in a mirror every day.”

“Anakin…”

“Fine…” He sighed, “I… Might have sort of tried to go give Padmé her Valentine.”

“Of all the foolish and impulsive things to do!” Obi-Wan roared instantly.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“No I did not!” He snapped, “Do you not realize how incredibly dangerous that was? And the kind of risk you were putting yourself at? What would have happened if he had gotten you? I swear, I know you’re young but you need to think in terms of the long-”

“-Mate, not sure you are in the best position to be giving that lecture today.” Cody said, “Seeing as you also ran right into Maul’s clutches.”

“Yeah, really!” Anakin defended, “I heard all about what you did!”

“To save someone!” Obi-Wan rounded on his friend, “Not to retrieve a pretty trinket for a girl I fancy!”

“Based on your taste that’s a good thing.” Ventress scoffed.

Satine, who was admittedly calmer than Obi-Wan, frowned and looked at Anakin, “What happened?”

“If I’m allowed to continue.” He said pointedly before going on, “I wasn’t actually going to go to Hogsmeade. Believe it or not, I’m not completely stupid.”

“You just said-” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked.

“-Ben, let him finish.” Satine admonished.

“Thank you,” Anakin nodded and the kid really had the nerve to look smug, “I wasn’t going to Hogsmeade, but Rabé was and believe it or not, I get nervous too sometimes. I wasn’t sure I would have the nerve to give it to her in person, so I was going to ask Rabé if she could give it to Padmé for me. So, I used the map to follow her, obviously, and was never going to leave the tunnel system. But then about halfway through, I saw him.”

“Maul?” Cody asked in awe.

“No, the boogeyman. Yes, Maul.” Rex rolled his eyes.

“Seems like the same thing to me,” Ventress yawned, clearly unimpressed, “Seeing as Maul can’t be in two places at once, I would say one of you is lying.”

“I’m not lying!” Anakin asserted and looked to Obi-Wan, “And he’s not either.”

“Rabé didn’t just turn to carbonite on her own.” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin’s eyes widened, “He got Rabé too?”

“What do you mean too?” Satine asked.

“I mean, Tiplee was also frozen in carbonite down in the tunnels. I only managed to get away because I must have caught him off guard. I ran as fast as I could.” He patted his pockets, “Dang! I think I dropped the map in the process. Again.”

“Seriously, no more of those for you.” Satine said.

“Not like it’ll be of much use now that Yoda is closing the tunnels again.” Cody said.

“That’s horrible.” Obi-Wan frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully, “But I wonder why he wouldn’t have come into the school.”

“He’s afraid of Yoda.” Ventress scowled, “Everyone knows that, but clearly, he’s a fool to be leaving all of these little clues around.”

“There’s got to be a bigger plan at play here.” Satine said.

“Like what? Two Maul’s?” Ventress rolled her eyes, “I could see the creep going after Skywalker as that is clearly his primary intent, but Kenobi? Who would bother to go after someone who cowered at his own shadow at one point?”

The particular incident that Ventress was alluding to happened when they were only five years old, he might add, but even in his head it didn’t pack the same impact that she wanted it to. Instead, Obi-Wan flashed her a disapproving look.

“Rabé is a member of your house.” He pointed out, “I didn’t see you running back to save her.”

“Actually, I didn’t see you at all.” Satine added.

Ventress, nonplussed, rolled her eyes dramatically, “Good to know the two of you are still conjuring nonsense that would rival The Quibbler, but if you must know, I was tutoring in the library.”

“Wait a second,” Obi-Wan allowed some of the blanket to slide off of him when he sat up straighter, trying his best to suppress a shiver that immediately followed. He was grateful that Satine set it back into place, “Don’t tell me you’re Hondo’s tutor.”

Ventress furrowed her brow, “Be wary of the tone, Kenobi. My marks often rival your own.”

She wasn’t wrong. Horrible personality aside, Ventress was an exemplary student. Like him, she sort of had to be, given the reputation their respective families upheld.

“I wasn’t underestimating your intelligence,” He said, because he wasn’t a total fool, “But I never took you for a good samaritan.”

“Surely, he’s paying her.” Satine groaned as she leaned back on her hands.

“I don’t need the money, muggle-born.” She hissed.

“Since when has galleons been his only form of currency?” Satine shrugged, “Everyone has a price, is all I’m saying.”

“Fools,” Ventress shook her head as she walked away, “All of you.”

“Yeah, well, when you turn to stone, it’ll match your heart.” Anakin said and stood up, “I’m going to go apologize to Padmé.”

Obi-Wan watched him sadly as he walked over to where the crestfallen group of usually chipper girls huddled together. At least they were able to comfort each other in this trying time. Obi-Wan looked to Cody and Satine, who were both wearing a considerable amount of concern on their features.

He knew their responsibilities as older students and prefects, alike, were only going to rise as the fear and sense of danger increased. Anakin had nearly come to his end if he hadn’t been so quick on his feet. He supposed those dueling classes did have their uses if implemented properly. As it were, Maul would likely not make the same mistake twice.

***

The atmosphere was much more subdued than most Quidditch mornings. Even Cody found himself sitting quietly across from where Obi-Wan was falling asleep over a plate of pancakes. Ventress was the only one not subdued, she was glaring around at her team, snarling at anyone not paying attention to her. He didn’t think she’d get very far with an attitude like that. As captain, sometimes the best thing you could do was read the mood of your teammates.

Obi-Wan’s head dropped forwards almost landing in the syrup before Satine managed to pull him back without even a glance over. He blinked, looking around like he hadn’t even been aware they were in the Great Hall in the first place.

“Might want to eat something, mate,” Cody suggested, gesturing to his plate that he seemed surprised was loaded even if he had done it himself.

“Right,” He did so without another word. Satine looked fairly volatile this morning, having woken up extremely early for a morning patrol so there wasn’t much conversation for them to be had. He was tired too, having been picking up a few patrols of his own. Palpatine’s accidental sleeping potion may have been an unfortunate idea, but a few extra hands that could take on prefect duties were still welcomed. It’s not like Cody could say no after watching his friends be run ragged.

“You sure you’re going to be awake enough to stay on a broom?” Cody asked as they both watched a piece of pancake fall slowly off his fork. Obi-Wan just nodded looking up with a sigh.

“We’re all tired,” He nodded towards where Koth had passed out at the breakfast table. Aayla and Cin were awake enough to doodle on his face so it maybe wasn’t the entire team, “Hopefully this will make for a short game.”

“Hopefully,” He nodded, but he wasn’t sure he was honest in his statement. Ventress was looking especially poisonous this morning and wouldn’t take anything sitting down, “Maybe we shouldn’t be playing anyways.”

Obi-Wan and Satine both looked at him like he’d just grown a second head and he met their looks with a glare.

“Who are you and what have you done with Cody?” Kenobi squinted at him as if checking to make sure he hadn’t been cursed.

“I think hell must have frozen over,” Satine added with a nod, “I never thought I’d hear Cody Fett, not want anything to do with Quidditch.”

“Hey! Woah!” He shook his head quickly, “I never said that.”

They both raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Even I am not enough of a sports fan to look past the elephant in the room,” He jabbed his fork at them, “Maul’s close and we’re just going to take the whole school outside? Again? Plus, morale is down,” Instead of gesturing to the two obvious examples in front of him, he pointed to Koth, who had just woken up and hadn’t figured out why everyone was laughing at him yet.

“When you put it that way...” Obi-Wan flicked his eyes to the professors, who were desperately trying to keep warm inviting facades. He took a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Why go through all this trouble for such a barbaric game anyways,” Satine glowered, “We need a break from potential violence not more.”

Cody knew explaining the dynamics of Quidditch would not change her mind any so he kept his own thoughts to himself on the matter. He thought of Quidditch as a much needed break most of the time. But it was hard to deny the fact that only a few people would be having a good time today and that wasn’t how he felt a healthy Quidditch environment should be.

The screech of an owl alerted everyone to the arrival of the morning mail. It was always a little hectic, but it didn’t stop them from being able to spot one of their three owls if it chose to show up. The only owl Cody could recognize was a large tawny one. Well manicured and, if memory served, sharp talons. Obi-Wan barely avoided getting his letter dropped on his head, his hand flicked up to catch the falling parchment with deft precision. As most letters from his parents, he was careful to shield it so Satine couldn’t see, something that always had her frustrated despite knowing that it was fair given the nature of these letters.

Obi-Wan read the whole thing in lightning speed, eyebrows furrowing the further he got, although he nodded before swiftly depositing it on the table next to his plate. His owl swooped down again landing on his head causing him to wince.

“Alright message received,” He tried to pick up the pesky owl, but it looked rather indignant to be manhandled. Still because he was gentle and fed him a bit of breakfast, the owl allowed itself to be set on his arm, “Tell them they’re early,” He tried saying it quietly enough so neither of them would hear, unfortunately they were both rather intune to his voice. If an owl could show emotions, which Cody had, up until this moment thought untrue, Obi-Wan’s owl would look almost melancholic for a moment. A hard thing to do for a bird that had permanent angry eyebrows colored into its feathers.

It took off in a hurry, nearly taking off a few heads as it went and disappeared back into the flock it had arrived with.

“What did they say?” Satine asked, as she usually did, but he just shrugged.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” He gave her a smile, but she frowned.

“That never makes me feel better,” She told him sternly. He just shrugged.

There was a loud pop and they all looked up to see Palpatine and Qui-Gon standing at the head of the Great Hall, the two of them would be escorting both teams outside and to the pitch. It was best to have an experienced teacher at the helm and who better than those who had earned their titles as Heads of House.

Obi-Wan stood swiftly, accepting their well wishes and good lucks, before falling into line behind Eeth. Satine was watching them leave with narrowed eyes and Cody wasn’t sure what was going on, but she certainly looked much more focused than earlier. She slid her hand across the table, snatching the note from where he’d left it, clearly for the trash pile, and spread it open.

“Should you do that?” He asked even if he was curious himself, he wasn’t about to get accused of reading other people’s mail.

“It’s a suspicious piece of parchment I found unattended,” She lied as she peered down at it. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she read it just loud enough for him to hear.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,

As you are about to turn 17, we remind you once again of your duties and expectations. In one year you will turn 18 and we’ll discuss then your future. Despite your best attempts to undermine our plans we will do what we can to work around your failure.

Don’t expect a gift this year, you received one last year and we’ll be happy to give you one when you turn 20. Consider continuing to go to school despite your constant disappointments gift enough.

-Mother”

Cody felt the grip on his fork tighten as he stared a hole through the paper. A correspondence with Obi-Wan’s family really was never pleasant, but did they have to be so outwardly despicable? What surprised him most was the excitement lighting up Satine’s eyes as she read the letter over again.

“Brilliant!” She grinned and he practically snapped his fork in half.

“What’s so brilliant about those two bastards continuing to tighten the noose around his neck?” Cody growled and Satine looked up, having the decency to look aghast.

“Oh heavens no,” She looked sick at the thought, “That’s not what I was referring to at all. How could you think-?”

“-How could I not? Maybe hell is freezing over,” He ran a hand down his face as she rummaged around in her bag before shoving plates and goblets out of the way, nearly toppling a few over. She set down a massive book-like object with a white exterior and silver rings. It was full to the brim with pages and she opened it up excitedly.

“It’s a binder,” She told him at his look before moving on to what must have been the important thing at hand, “You know how Ben’s rather dodgy about his birthday?” Cody nodded, “Well I’ve been tracking him ever since 2nd year,” She flipped around in the binder and Cody could see so many color-coded graphs it made his head spin.

“You did this? For what?”

“If he won’t tell us, I’ll find out on my own,” She glared sternly at a picture of Ben that blinked up at her from the page, “That’s what I told him,” She flipped through it, pointing at various sections, “I was able to surmise that his parents tend to have a letter pattern. They only send him mail on major holidays or if he’s done something they disapprove of.”

“When is that not the case,” He muttered.

“I was able to narrow it down after a few years to February or March,” She was in the back of the book now where a calendar full of crossed out dates sat, “It was confusing, sometimes they sent him a letter end of February like this one,” She waved the letter at him, “Sometimes it was in March. This is the first time I’ve been able to read one,” She grinned proudly tucking the letter into the back pocket for evidence purposes.

“What good does that do? They didn’t say what day it was,” Cody studied the calendar in interest.

“It does a lot of good!” She pulled a fancy highlighter from her bag, “He said they were early, meaning it can’t be any of these dates,” She ran her finger through most of the month. They only had a few days left until March though, maybe she’d figured out the month, “Most importantly!” She looked at him face as serious as it was when she was taking her OWLs, “They said they got him a gift last year-”

“Yeah a ruddy gift,” Cody frowned, “What good is an antique quill if it doesn’t even work?”

“I agree,” She said impatiently, “That’s not the point. They said they’d get him another one when he turned 20. He turned 16 last year-”

“Your point?” Cody was beginning to get lost and would rather she hurry up her point than leave him thinking.

“He doesn’t have a birthday this year at all!” She announced and Cody straightened, staring at her in shock.

“Well that’s not possible!” He declared, “Everyone has a birthday once a year! Even those who don’t care much like Kenobi.”

“It is possible!” She grinned proudly drawing a line on her calendar right between the 28th of February and the 1st of March, “He was born on February 29th! A leap year!”

Cody blinked. That actually made a lot of sense. Kenobi wasn’t a liar and he was sure he’d asked about specific days and been told he was wrong. He’d only seen Kenobi get a birthday present their first year (a pack of gobstones) and their fifth year (the aforementioned broken antique quill). Cody had just figured they wouldn’t ever figure it out unless he told them himself, so he usually just tried to get him a good Christmas present every year. He had noticed Satine had started to give him a present around this time of year, but now they had the exact day.

“Does this mean his parents use that as an excuse to never get him anything?” He frowned and Satine angered instantly.

“I’m almost shocked they haven’t forgotten the date themselves.”

“So,” Cody looked at the little highlighted line indicating the fruition of 5 years of work, “What are we doing about it?”

***

“I still say we should have gone with March 1st,” Cody said from where he was balanced rather precariously on a ladder taping the end of a streamer, “Then we’d be celebrating him having turned 17.”

Satine, who was holding onto the ladder to make sure she didn’t have to take anyone to the hospital wing today, glared up at him, “Absolutely not! He has a February birthday, we’re celebrating it in February. Otherwise he’s going to assume we’ve forgotten it!”

“He doesn’t even know we know it,” Cody rationalized, but came down from the ladder anyways to admire his work with her.

“Alright,” She looked down reading her list. She’d had years to plan this event, he’d never had a party before that she knew of and she wanted it to be perfect, “We’ve got the streamers and the balloons. The guests have been told what time to arrive...” She checked off the boxes as she went, “Can I trust you to go and get the cake without dropping it?” She looked up at her friend and he grinned giving her a thumbs up.

“Oh yeah definitely,” It didn’t instill in her a lot of hope, but he was at least eager to do it.

“Alright go, but hurry!” She checked the time off the clock in the corner. “They’ll be here soon.”

“On it!” He saluted her and raced out the door.

Satine observed her surroundings once more. They’d chosen an empty classroom rather than something elaborate like the Great Hall or too intimate like Qui-Gon’s office. She’d gotten approval, Qui-Gon was to arrive any minute now to supervise. He’d been the only professor she could think of that would understand how important this was to do. She was sure if she’d talked to Windu or even Headmaster Yoda, she’d have gotten shot down before she even began. Qui-Gon knew about Ben’s family though and like her, seemed to want to give him the best experience he could.

There was a spot for the cake on the teacher’s desk as well as plates, utensils, and napkins. The ceiling was practically drowning in streamers of all different colors and balloons were floating around aimlessly. Her and Cody’s presents to him were sitting in a neat pile on a couple of tables pushed together. She hoped he’d get a few more, but hadn’t explicitly said anything on the invitations. It was rather short notice after all.

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” She turned to see Qui-Gon in the doorway. He was holding a colorfully wrapped package which she gratefully took from him placing it on the table next to the other.

“Do you think it’s too much?” The last thing she wanted to do was overwhelm him, but she’d learned over the years it was hard to figure out what would.

“I’m sure we could all do with a little cheeriness,” He said in lieu of answering. Maybe he didn’t know any better than she did.

It didn’t take much more time before the students she’d invited began to arrive. The entirety of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team poured in along with Stass. They’d been a little downtrodden at being beat so terribly by Slytherin, but seemed happy enough to be there. The clones were the next to arrive with Anakin in tow. Anakin proudly added his gift to the stack before going back over to Rex.

Cody arrived again, loudly kicking in the door gingerly holding the cake. It hadn’t gotten squashed which she was thankful for. Behind him was Breha and Bail, both levitating trays of food and a bowl of punch, letting them settle into place on a row of desks.

More prefects appeared as well as a few other students. Hondo had seemed rather pleased to have been invited, but Satine was a little worried about what he had possibly brought as a present. Soon the room was pretty full and Satine shushed everyone as well as she could without shouting.

“Alright I’m going to get Ben,” She announced, “Be ready.”

“Yes ma’am!” The Fett’s all saluted her and the others in the room nodded keeping their chatter to a minimum.

***

Obi-Wan was growing a little concerned. Satine had been the one to ask him to meet her in the library, but she had yet to appear. He’d kept himself occupied with his textbooks, but he was tempted to go out and look for her. It was no sooner than he closed his textbook and stood that she rounded the corner looking rather flustered.

“Sorry I’m late,” She panted as she flipped her hair back and out of her face. It was down today, which was becoming a bit of a rarity and he smiled.

“It’s no trouble,” He said sitting back down, “Was there something in particular you wanted to work on? I’ve already finished my essays, but I can help you with yours.”

“Actually,” She was fidgeting nervously and he gazed up at her in concern, “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if we went on a walk first.”

“A walk?” That was an unusual request.

“Yes I- I just think it would be nice, don’t you?” Well, he was hard pressed to deny her anything. Especially something as simple as a walk around the castle.

“Alright,” He agreed, sliding his text book back into his bag. She was scrutinizing him and he looked down to make sure his clothes were straightened, because the last time he’d gotten that look his fly had been undone. Rather embarrassing.

He looked up again, starting in surprise, when he felt a hand in his hair. She gave him an apologetic look as she stepped back.

“Sorry, your hair was messed up,” She told him and he felt his face warm slightly, but she just coughed awkwardly and started walking. He ran to catch up.

He couldn’t help, but to run his own hands through his hair, just to ensure that it wasn’t still a mess, “It’s fine Ben,” She told him as she walked just far enough ahead to force him to follow her path.

“I didn’t think you minded much if it was messy,” He said instead of removing his hands.

“I don’t, I just-” Satine cut herself off with a shake of her head. Obi-Wan was confused, but let his hands finally drop to his sides.

“Well alright?” He wasn’t sure what else to say. She was acting off and he couldn’t pinpoint it. Maybe she was upset? But she didn’t look it. Even if she was, the library was perfectly quiet that evening. His heart beat a little faster in his chest as he remembered another time the two of them had been alone, the Christmas party. Did she- were they going to talk about it? He wasn’t sure he knew what to say about such things.

“Ben?” He looked up at his name and she was frowning at him, “Are you alright? You look pale.”

“I’m completely fine,” He confirmed, “Are you?”

“Yes?” Maybe they were both acting a little off this evening.

“Good,” He smiled at her and she returned it easily.

She turned then and walked towards the door of an empty classroom, disappearing inside. What on earth could she want with him in an empty classroom?

He refused to lose her though and quickened his pace until he was pulling the door open only to be assaulted by many loud cheers. It took him a moment to register what they were saying in the first place.

“Happy Birthday!”

His birthday? He blinked, taking in the scene. Many of his close friends were there, his Quidditch team, Anakin, Qui-Gon. All of them were standing there watching him which made him more than a little nervous. The ceiling was decorated in nearly every color of the rainbow and it was complete with balloons. He gripped the strap of his bag, unsure what was expected of him. He certainly had never had a party for himself before.

“Happy Birthday, mate!” Cody appeared in front of him practically dragging him into the room and pushing him towards the professor’s desk. It broke the tension in the room and chatter resumed much to his relief. There were less eyes on him.

“Uhm, thank you,” He managed a smile.

“Look at your cake! We had it made special.”

He looked down in surprise at a white cake decorated with 17 silver candles. Written in delicate blue icing was, “Happy Birthday Obi-Wan!” He’d never had his own birthday cake before, but he’d seen them when Satine or Cody had celebrated theirs. It was kind of them to think of him, he just wished he knew the proper way to respond. The parties he attended usually had scripts to follow and he had never been instructed for one like this.

“It’s chocolate,” Satine’s hand landed right next to his on the desk and he looked up catching her eyes, “I know it’s your favorite.”

“It is,” he agreed almost solemnly.

“Do you like it?” She asked and he nodded quickly, his face heating up, how rude that he hadn’t immediately offered them a thank you.

“Yes of course! I- Thank you,” He told them both seriously, “I’m sorry, I’m just not at all sure how I’m supposed to react.” Satine’s eyes flashed sadly at him for a moment before it was gone and she smiled at him softly, bumping her fingers into his.

“You can react however you’d like,” She assured him, “Yell at me that you hate it for all I care,” He took a step back and nearly tripped over Cody at the insinuation.

“Absolutely not, I’ll treasure it!” He vowed with a stern expression and she laughed a little, it was a sound he quite liked.

“Don’t treasure it too long,” Cody warned him, “Because after we sing to you we’re all going to eat it.”

“Sing?”

Neither of them answered, but he found himself pushed into the professor’s chair and everyone seemed to gather all around him. He felt his face get warm and he hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. Both Cody and Satine were lighting the candles on the cake and right when they were done a rather off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” was sung and shouted at him. There wasn’t much for him to do except sit there and try to look less uncomfortable. When Fives and Echo finally finished drawing out the last “you” Satine told him to make a wish and gestured for him to blow out the candles. It took him two attempts and he wondered if he looked as foolish as he felt.

Soon, however, everyone was preoccupied with their slices of cake and mingling with one another. Obi-Wan had to admit despite his embarrassment of having so many eyes on him, the cake was rather good. It was certainly his favorite kind from the Great Hall and he was quietly delighted when Satine offered him another piece.

“You know today’s not my birthday,” He told Satine as she sat down next to him cutting into her own slice.

“I know,” She smirked, “I know that your birthday isn’t today or tomorrow, but is actually February 29th. Despite what anyone else may say about this though, is that it’s still worth celebrating even if the day won’t appear again for a few more years.”

He blinked at her, shocked. He knew she’d been interested in figuring out his birthday, but he had assumed she’d dropped it by now, “How did you find out?”

“Years of observation,” It wasn’t a helpful answer, but he had to admire her intelligence in getting this far, “So am I right?” She leaned in close to him, her eyes searching his for the answer.

“Yes,” He answered quietly.

“Kenobi!” Hondo nearly knocked him into his cake when he slapped him on the back, “Why have you not shared your birthday with me before! Hondo gives fabulous presents that one would not wish for in their wildest dreams!”

“Ah thank you Hondo,” He peeled Hondo’s arm off his shoulders. He was fairly sure Hondo was correct in his assumption that he definitely wouldn’t have wished for whatever lurked in Hondo’s present in any of his dreams.

“You’re welcome, my friend! Only the best for one of my closest associates,” He winked at him before waltzing away back into the crowd. Obi-Wan watched him go as Satine stifled her laughter.

“I assumed you’d want to open your presents later?” She asked.

“I have presents?” He looked around the room until he spotted them and blanched. There had to be at least 10 sitting there in a pile just for him, “I can’t accept that,” He looked at her with wide eyes and she narrowed her eyes.

“It would be ruder for you to reject them,” He looked between her and the presents. A catch 22.

“I’m not opening Hondo’s in front of anyone,” He decided and she laughed again.

Suddenly there was a loud crash and they both looked up to see Anakin sprawled out on the floor. Obi-Wan’s heart flew into his throat thinking of a similar event at the last party he’d gone to at this school. Before he could run over there though, Anakin was sitting up with a dopey smile on his face. He giggled.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief, but something still didn’t seem right. Anakin had Qui-Gon’s help to stand up, but he wobbled. He looked a little bit like he was drunk, but he doubted Satine or Cody would spike the punch at his birthday party. Cody seemed to have a similar guess because he took a sip of his own punch and frowned.

“Don’t you think,” Anakin giggled so hard he almost fell down again, “Don’t you think that Miraj Scintel is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met?”

The room went silent.

“She’s really beautiful,” He said again giggling wildly. He tripped and Qui-Gon just barely managed to catch him.

Half the room broke out into laughter, it was a ridiculous sight, but Obi-Wan was more worried about what the cause of this was. Qui-Gon was too and immediately slapped a cookie out of Hondo’s hand.

“Someone’s snuck a love potion in,” Satine said standing up, looking particularly mad.

“Miraj Scintel by the sound of it,” Cin Drallig raised an eyebrow as they all quietly set their food down.

“Must have been after you Kenobi,” Fives pointed out, “After all this is technically your party.”

“Me?” He barely talked to the girl and found her quite detestable, they were as different as they came.

“It’s possible any of you were the target,” Qui-Gon frowned as he picked up Anakin to keep him from getting anywhere.

“Hey put me down! I need to go tell Miraj Scintel that I love her!” Anakin cried, “Rex, do you think she’ll like me back.”

Rex was looking at Anakin as if he were contagious, but he just gave him an awkward nod and a, “Sure mate.”

“I’ll take him to Madam Nema,” He told everyone and gave a steady gaze at Obi-Wan, “He’ll be fine. In the meantime I’m sorry, but it looks like we’ll have to cut this party short.”

Before long the room had thinned out leaving just Obi-Wan, Satine, Cody, and a mess to clean up.

“You don’t have to help, Ben,” Satine said with a sigh as she pulled out her wand, “It’s your birthday after all.”

“And leave you to do all the work? I don’t think so,” He stood beside her as they both pulled the streamers off the ceiling with their wands. Cody made short work of sending all their food back down to the kitchens. The three of them moved the desks back to where they were meant to before collapsing together at a section of desks in the center of the room.

“Who knew a party would be so much work?” Cody complained as he picked a bit of streamer out of his hair.

“I did,” Obi-Wan answered quietly, “I really appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure I like having all the attention on me.”

“The point of a birthday party is just to be around those that love you,” She told him, “Yeah it’s a little embarrassing being sung too or opening presents, but there are some things in life you just have to accept.”

“I’m not sure,” He would really rather not make such a big fuss about something as mundane as the day he was born. Satine gave him a rather scathing look for a moment before sighing deeply and reaching into her bag.

“Do you remember when I was late coming back to school?” She asked them.

“Only every day,” He complained and Cody just nodded. She sized them both up before pulling out her wallet and, as if it was physically painful for her she pulled out a thin white card.

“I was late because I was getting my driver’s license,” She set the card down in front of them, revealing Satine in rather bad lighting. On the right was a list of identifying information and quite interested, Obi-Wan picked it up to look at it.

Cody immediately had broken into a fit of laughter, catching the end of Satine’s fiery glare, “It looks like a mug shot!”

“That’s why I wasn’t too interested in telling anyone!” She snatched the card out of his hands and Obi-Wan just blinked looking over at her.

“What’s wrong with it? You look lovely,” That comment just made Cody laugh harder and earned him Satine’s glare as well.

“It’s a bloody terrible photo!” She shouted shoving the thing far back in her wallet and stashing it back where it belonged, “The point is,” She emphasized, “Sometimes you have to suffer through some embarrassment in life, I doubt having a birthday party is as terrible as having that as an identifying picture.”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it,” He looked between Cody and Satine. It showcased her hair and although she wasn’t smiling, in it he could see the softness in her eyes.

“You are unbelievable, Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Satine’s face had gone red, “I show you the worst picture of me forced to exist and you still think being sung too is worse?”

“Let’s open presents!” Cody changed the subject quickly, shoving a shoddily wrapped gift into his hands and trying to whisper, “Come on mate, open it! She already has a mugshot, what’s going to stop her from murdering us.”

“Cody!”

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #anidala #the clone wars #star wars #hpau #magical forces au

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