#20 hoop hall class

[basketball-lifer]

The 80s had Bird & Magic, the 10s had Duncan, Bryant and Garnett

They were the stars of stars. Two of them entered the league at a very young age but they dominated the decade of 2010. While all started their careers in Western Conference, one of them would end up leading a team in the East to championship glory

Each one of them won championship (at least once) and while doing so, they made sure that they would be remembered for years to come

Out of the three:

Tim Duncan aka Big Fundamental was the first to win a championship with David Robinson in 1999 but his last championship would prove to be the sweetest as he led his team to victory over a much younger and last season’s championship team; the Miami Heat led by Lebron James. He was at the twilight of his career along with Tony Parker and Manu Ginobli in 2014 and yet they defeated the Heat 4-1

Kobe won his first championship with Shaq in 2000 which turned into a 3-peat in 2002 but what made him The Greatest Laker of All-Time was when he led his team to two championships with no All-Star support similar to Shaq, Magic and West before him. The last one put his team up against KG’s Celtics (2008 NBA Champions) in what would be the dream matchup for the ages

KG aka Big Ticket will always be remembered for bringing back championship glory to Boston after a hiatus of almost 23 years

Among many accolades, all three were named NBA All-Star MVPs but these three gave basketball fans the excitement similar to what Bird-Magic era was known for in the 80s

[kohanayaki]

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had  a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.  

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1977  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1978   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius @pan-pride-12​

[ericvick]

Wu, Campbell guide revenue drive, but the other individuals are catching up

City Councillors Michelle Wu and Andrea Campbell are foremost the fundraising race in their bids to grow to be Boston’s up coming mayor, in accordance to the most current campaign finance reviews filed with the point out. But other candidates are attaining floor.

Wu and Campbell, who ended up the to start with to jump into the mayor’s race, have more than a million dollars each in their campaign accounts, which provides them an significant edge in a crowded field.

“I assume Michelle and Andrea…are genuinely demonstrating the benefit of obtaining began early,” mentioned political strategist Wilnelia Rivera stated.

In a race wherever nearly 50 % of registered voters have been undecided just a month back, according to a poll sponsored by WBUR, The Boston Foundation and the Dorchester Reporter, money is crucial. It allows candidates construct name recognition and existing their visions for the potential of the metropolis.

The discipline also consists of Acting Mayor Kim Janey, Metropolis Councillor Annissa Essaibi George, the city’s former economic development main, John Barros, and point out Rep. Jon Santiago.

Wu suggests her lived expertise is the heart of her campaign: She’s the daughter of Taiwanese immigrants who, in her early 20s, became the key caregiver for her two young sisters just after her mom was identified with schizophrenia.

“Knowing what it’s like to be up all night time in the emergency space waiting for the psychological health and fitness bed to open up for my mother, or opening a smaller small business with so many hoops and limitations to jump via — and so quite a few other men and women in comparable circumstances have been struggling with that,” Wu explained.

Campbell, who joined the race about a 7 days immediately after Wu, also has a tale to explain to about her everyday living that is central to her campaign: She had a twin brother, who, like her, was the item of Boston Community faculties. But she went on to Princeton College and UCLA Regulation Faculty, although her brother was accused of terrible crimes, cycled in an out of the criminal justice technique, and died when in custody.

“Sadly, it’s not a tale that is [just] familiar to me,” Campbell instructed WBUR. “It is acquainted to quite a few hundreds of inhabitants in the town. And so my get the job done…is about eradicating people inequities and breaking cycles of poverty, trauma, criminalization. And so, I’m energized to operate for mayor.”

Although Wu and Campbell benefitted from getting first to be part of the race, others are catching up. That contains Town Councillor Annissa Essaibi George, who has about 50 percent as significantly money on hand as Wu and Campbell. But given that the begin of this year, Essaibi George has elevated a lot more raised much more than everybody else, except for Wu.

“I’m enthusiastic about that due to the fact that helps me distribute the phrase and achieve extra voters,” said Essibi George, a compact enterprise owner and a former significant school trainer. She’s managing as an ally of Marty Walsh, representing a type of continuity at Town Hall.

“I am very very pleased of my relationship with previous Mayor Walsh and what I was ready to do in partnership with him,” she said. “[That includes] my commitment to training, our motivation to our most vulnerable residents, specifically when we feel of homelessness, when we believe of people dealing with compound abuse ailment which is significant to me, and I want to carry on that get the job done.”

In the meantime, Santiago has about a half million pounds of income on hand — about the identical as Essaibi. Barros has about $300,000.

Performing Mayor Kim Janey has considerably less funds than all of her rivals. That›s partly since she only declared her candidacy past thirty day period, not prolonged immediately after she succeeded Walsh. But in April, she lifted more than $200,000 — more than any person else in the race. And, of class, Janey has an advantage beyond cash.

“You refer to her as ‘Mayor Janey,’” said Tito Jackson, who ran for mayor unsuccessfully in 2017. Jackson pointed out that, as mayor, Janey can roll out initiatives as performing mayor and talk about them at day-to-day press conferences — providing her entrance-runner position.

But Jackson is heartened that all six significant candidates are men and women of color — focusing one way or a different on racial inequalities in the town. The candidates have 4 months to make their pitch to voters just before the preliminary election in September.

This posting was posted by WBUR90.9FM on May well 6. The Reporter and WBUR share content material by means of a media partnership.

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[cipher-fresh]

Today in my math class we used a scheduling conflict and a soccer ball as a part of word problems, and then like 10 minutes before class ended, people in basketball outfits came in and started playing a 2v2 basketball game with a person holding up a mini basketball hoop and throwing around mini-basketballs. My teacher was flabbergasted, confused, then got angry, and started yelling at the group. The guy said he had reserved the time for the lecture hall, and my teacher ran the kids out. He chased after the referee who was the ringleader, and then a kid who was sitting in the back stood up, holding a video camera, and he ran out as well. I went to my next class and started telling someone in my class, and a person sitting in the back said he was the guy who held the basketball hoop and he explained it was set up for a Youtube prank, and he got paid $20 for it. 

[theleftovertaco]

The Boys in Heels

I decided to go ahead with this hc. I have so many opinions about the boys in heels. 

in our lineup today is Fred, George, Draco, Neville, Ron, Harry, and Cedric and Oliver have been added!

Fred

Fred saw you walking around in heels during a school ball and he loved them

Like loved them

Baby boy was simping over you in these pretty sandal shoes, he liked how your legs looked in them

Fred is already a very tall boi, but he still wanted to wear heels

So you dug out that same pair of blue heels and enlarged them slightly to fit his feet

Boy also wanted to paint his toenails to match so why not

He stood up and immediately fell over and then you nearly did laughing

“HELP ME UP!” “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

He grabbed onto your arm and slowly stood up and then taught himself to walk in heels 

He looked at himself in your mirror and just started beaming

Spent about ten minutes just looking at his legs

He started strutting around the common room in the heels 

After this you got him his own pair in red

George

Georgie was going on a date with you

You walked down from the girls dorms in a pair of pastel yellow heels 

George is a softie by nature so he swooned

And he was way into it

“Love you’re so much taller! How do you walk in them?”

He asks if he can wear a pair of yours a couple weeks later.

So you find an older pair of pink heels and enlarge them

He tries them on and immediately does that dinosaur walk that people do when they first wear heels 

His legs are all bent and he looks like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time so you narrate it like the old BBC documentary you and him watched together

“The baby giraffe stumbles and falters before-” “SHUT UP YOU”RE MEAN- OH SHIT I THINK IT GOT IT!” “The baby giraffe is successful.” “Must you taunt me?”

You two start dancing around the common room to old music and after he decides he wants to start wearing them often

Eventually when he and his brother open WWW he wears heels on the first day to boost his confidence

The first pair you get him is a set of pastel pink heels and he wears them so much the heel just snaps off at some point

Draco

He saw you in heels before he even really knew you

You had that whole badass aesthetic and wore those high knee style heels

He admired how badass you looked

So he actually went and just bought a similar pair himself a few months after you were together

He surprised you a couple weeks later

“What do you think, love?” “You look fantastic!”

Maybe it’s the whole rich pureblood thing, where they teach him to act and talk but he actually already knows how to walk and act in heels

It was actually Narcissa, he observed how his mother walked and started to model it

Draco doesn’t wear them super often, he just pulls them out when he doesn’t feel as confident

Probably pulls out a skirt as well

But not too often since he finds heels to painful

“Wimp.” “Hey, I’m delicate.”

Over time, he buys other heels, mostly in black and green

But he always comes back to those first ones

Neville

Neville was always a little intimidated by you 

You wore these dark combat boot style heels 

And you were always so confident

You just put out that vibe of “Do not fuck with me”

Whereas his vibe was like “Hey, you could probably pour soup in my lap and I’d apologize to you” 

So even after he’d gotten to know you it took a long time

You brought it up because he was always staring at yours

He was very sheepish, but eventually agreed

Now, contrary to popular belief, Neville is actually pretty tall, so he didn’t want anything that would make him stand out too much

So you found a tiny little kitten heel style thing

He was insecure about the noise the heels made, so you placed a spell so that the heels wouldn’t make the little click clacking sound when he walked

First day he wore them, he looked insecure, so you convinced a couple other girls to walk around with the two of you and all of you shower him with compliments

He’s bright red the whole day but the smile never leaves his face

After, he gets more confident and starts buying more heels

Harry

Harry saw a pair of red pumps in Hogsmeade by himself and bought a pair saying they were for his girlfriend

“You’re girlfriend has big feet” “You’ve got something to say about my girlfriend?” “No, mate, sorry.”

He kept them at the bottom of his trunk, he never thought you would find it 

You were helping him reorganize his trunk and he completely forgot it was there

You pulled them out and he snatched them back almost immediately

“What are these?” “NOTHING! They’re nothing!” “They look like a pair of heels.”

He just stuttered for about a minute before confessing

“I thought you would have a problem.” “Why the hell would I have a problem?”

By the time you found out he’d learned to walk in them and eventually you convinced him to wear them in front of you

So far it’s more of a you and him thing but he’ll get out there eventually

Ron

Ron’s height is similar to the twins so he already towered over most people

But he was just slightly shorter than his brothers

And it bothered him

They always poked fun at him for it “how’s the weather down there” “I’m only a little shorter than you two!” “Couldn’t hear you from up here, sorry Ronniekins!”

So you offered the idea that he should wear heels

Initially he does it as a joke

Staggers into the Great Hall wearing six inch black heels and makes a comment about the twins height

But soon he finds that he kind of likes the heels, likes how confident they make him feel

“I see why women wear them. They’re painful as hell but I feel powerful.”

Over time he starts wearing them more

He rolled his ankle once though in an incident and stayed away from them for about a month

But when he got back into them he was as active as ever

But he’s never running in them again

Never. Again.

Cedric

Cedrics a pretty boy

We been knew

But he initially did it on a dare, you and your housemates dared him to wear them for a day since he had never known the pain of walking around for 8+ hours in heels

So he shows up to the first school dance of the year in 5 inch black stilettos and a suit

Big mistake on his part

He twisted an ankle 5 seconds in

You had to half carry him to Madame Pomphrey and you both spent the first 20 minutes of the dance in the hospital wing while his ankle healed

But after that he started wearing them a little more often

He was always getting dared to do stuff so he started trying stunts in his heels

It began with just running but he tried to jump and that was successful and now he cartwheels around the castle in heels sometimes and you are very worried he’ll end up with broken legs

You find him a pair of comfortable heels (those two words are antonyms) and he now prefers those

You still worry he will hurt himself

“Are you about to jump off that tree and land in heels again?” “No?” And then the fucker jumps

But sometimes he just wears them for fun because he likes them

Oliver

Oliver is a very athletic boy

He never really things about the idea of feeling pretty

But he saw you wearing those like sneaker heels that don’t really look like sneakers

Or rather he just noticed that you were taller

So he asked if he could wear a similar pair cause he’s always been a little insecure about his height

He’s not even short (not that it matters) but still

So you let him borrow them

And we walks into the common room with so much goddamn confidence

After that he wears a pair of heeled boots and feels 10 times better

He wears them to a quidditch game once and when he kicks a quaffle away from the highest hoop he punches a hole it the ball

So because of him heels are now banned during quidditch

But other than that he’s doing great with the heels

Wears them around an to class, the noise the louder ones make draws attention to him that he really likes

You can hear him coming before you see him

Although Madame Pince did not seem to appreciate that

Oh well, you win some you lose some

Besides, Ollies happy, and he looks beautiful, so what else could you ask for?

I’m gonna try to get the makeup one done during the weekend, let me know what else you want me to do! Send me an ask, I fully accept requests!

[bloodypapercut]

despise (f.w. x reader)

this is my first fic! yayy! i hope all you angels enjoy. have a wonderful day or night and take care of your beautiful selves! :)

word count: 4.5k 

I despised Fred Weasley. Upon this discovery, I always questioned the veracity of my feelings towards him. It was never in my nature to be hateful, if anything I was known for being kind, caring, and helpful. Perhaps at times, I could be a little aloof, but that was simply due to the fact that my mind was always elsewhere. Never in my life had I felt so strongly about someone, better yet hate someone so fervently. Oftentimes I would feel guilty for scoffing at every remark he made, or rolling my eyes when he would flash his infamous coquettish smile. I abhorred him, it’s not like I made the decision to by my own volition, I couldn’t help it. I’m aware of how this sounds, a typical loathsome teenager who hated the boy who has attention, the boy who has people falling at his feet, the boy with a lot of friends and a close family. It wasn’t that, no not at all. I had my reasons.

--------

   I had never been more excited. I could barely keep the grin off my face as my legs swung back and forth, my heels hitting the seat. It was my first time being away from home, my desire to practice my independence as an 11-year-old was being fulfilled by the second. Looking out the window as the trees grew thicker and predictions of what the year could hold running through my mind a repulsive scent filled my cabin, thick smoke cloaked my vision and settled on my skin and robes. My violent coughs and labored breathing created a cacophony as the sound of hushed giggling and footsteps sounded from outside the door. My shaking hands made haste to dust off the soot, horrified of what others would think of me when I arrived at Hogwarts. A dirty and poor mudblood. I had expected the worst after hearing the stories my mother told me from working at the ministry, how could anyone disrespect someone I loved so dearly? The fear of being called out in such a hostile way and being looked down upon by potential friends caused my chest to tighten and sobs to violently rack my body. Not to mention the guilt I felt for getting my brand new robes dirty, especially knowing my mother worked extra shifts to get them.

   Stepping out of the Hogwarts express I was met with a tall man, guiding me along with other students to the boats. The soot hadn’t disappeared completely but I had gotten as much as I could off. The boat ride was pleasant. I had acquainted with a girl named Luna along the way, she was an idiosyncratic girl but I appreciated her kindness and her curious comments about sea creatures. I felt relieved that someone was talking to me without judging me based on my appearance, but the sadness I felt about my dirty robes still lingered over me.

   Looking up at the enchanted sky of the great hall I’ve never felt so enthralled by something. It was just as wonderful as my mom had described, I couldn’t wait to write to her all about it. But as I approached the front of the hall I felt dread put a weight around my ankles, I would have to stand up in front of everyone with my soiled robes. My uneasiness produced a scowl on my face and I could have sworn the familiar giggling was right behind me, but as I whipped my head around there was no one that seemed to be responsible for it.

“Now, when I call your names I will ask you to come forward, be seated on the stool, be sorted by the sorting hat, and after you will continue to your house table.”

I felt guilty that I wasn’t paying attention to my peers being sorted but my unease wracked at me, the ends of my sweater tangling between my fingers and the heel of my shoe being ground against the tiled floor.

“Y/N L/N”

Sighing I stepped forward, the giggles resonating once again making me stumble slightly. The lady at the front, whose name I had failed to remember, gave me a tight smile and waited for me to be seated. As the weight of the sorting hat pressed against my head I saw it. A trio of boys, 2 identical and one with dreads giggling, their soot covered hands coming up to their faces as they analyzed my robes. They must’ve felt my gaze because one of the twins and the boy with dreads stopped, but one continued, only laughing harder and looking right back at me. There, that was the moment I knew I would end up hating this ginger boy.

I had been so preoccupied with burning holes into his eyes that I had failed to recognize the incessant tapping on my shoulder and the dying cheers of the students sitting on a table at the far right of the room. Snapping my head towards the stern lady behind me. I hopped off the seat and rushed to the table that I assumed belonged to my house, which I didn’t know since I wasn’t listening. My face grew warm and my hands became sweaty with how tight my fists were clenched. I sat down quietly, never taking my eyes off that git.

That’s how he ruined my first highlight at Hogwarts.

--------

My second year was going just as I had planned. I had been practicing for Quidditch during the summer with my best mates Cho, Graham, and Julian (as Luna tried to befriend the gnomes, which didn’t end so pleasantly). I was convinced that I had improved greatly since my first chaotic flying lesson at Hogwarts. I was so sure of my skills, that I was unperturbed about trying out for my house team. That was a big mistake.

Going into compromising situations with nonchalance, knowing that the Weasley twins are in the same vicinity as you is a foolish, doltish mistake that anyone can be a victim to. I had been a victim to many of the playful endeavours during my first year and I thought that it was all over. Maybe they were mature now and knew when to stop. Thinking about it now makes me laugh, what a pretty lie I told myself.

It was the final cut for the team and I smiled as I gripped my broom, ignoring the splinter that found a place to reside in my thumb. The captain walked around smiling softly at all of us as she explained what the final tryout would entail. I clung to every word and as soon as she asked for a volunteer, my hand soared.

Tendrils of hair whipped around my face as I bolted to get the quaffle and shoot it into a hoop. I could hear words of praise from my friends on the ground and it only made me go a little faster, smiling as the quaffle passed by me. In an instant I spun my broom around, sending the ball flying to a hoop as the end struck it. I continued playing, doing tricks to show the captain I belonged on the team, I was so captured and focused that I didn’t notice the ball of fire that was in front of me, I also didn’t notice the screaming and shouts of warning from the ground but even when I did it was too late. Being faced with the fire ball it took me by surprise causing me to slip off my broom and fall a rough 20 feet from the sky.

The sound of a crack should have been the main sound that plagued my ears but it wasn’t, the pain radiating in my arm should have been enough for me to realize my arm could have been broken but it also wasn’t. At that moment I was verklempt because all I could hear was that notorious giggle and all I felt was a ferocious vindictive ball of anger swelling inside of me. In that moment I was certain that I deplored that Weasley boy.  

“L/N are you okay??”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine let me just get back on my broom and finish my try out. Please, I really wanna make the team.”

“No! Are you mental? You can't! You have to go to Madam Pomfrey now.”

“No please let me finish, I have to make the team.”

“You’re on the team kid, you’re talented but for the love of Merlin please go your arm looks horrible.”

--------

The stems of the flowers felt smooth in my hand and the soft petals grazed my nose as I inhaled its scent. I had never been given this much attention by someone and I had to admit it felt good. Getting mysterious notes everyday, serendipitous boxes of sweets on my bed and something to giggle about with my friends. The only thing that was covert was who it was coming from. I knew how they felt about me, I knew they were in all my classes and I knew that he was a Hufflepuff. I felt excited coming to my dorm, anticipating a note on my bedside table or a flower on my pillow. It all seemed a little too good to be true, and a part of me nagged, telling me it was just another Weasley prank.

After reading copious articles about wolfsbane, due to Snape’s unreasonable wrath, my head felt numb. I dragged my feet to reach my common room and after answering the riddle I stepped through the entrance ready to fling myself onto the couch.

“Hey.” It was James Abernathy, my seat partner in potions and herbology, and he was in all my other classes. His presence confused me, he wasn’t permitted into this common room, he was a Hufflepuff. Upon this realization, a ball of excitement spun in my body. Could it possibly be him? He was the epitome of my dream guy, but with my history in Hogwarts my gut told me that this was too good to be true.

“...hi? What would you need?”

“Actually can I speak to you outside?”

“Uh..yeah? Sure I guess.” He nodded curtly and walked towards to exit, letting me trail behind him. Thoughts flooded quickly, leaving me in anticipation for what he would possibly have to say to me. The idea of it being him excited me, but he had a bit of a reputation. Not that I thought he was incapable of holding interest in someone for longer than a week, it just seemed unlikely that it would be me of all people.

“It’s me.”He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, the veins being accentuated as he tugged at the ends lightly.

I remained silent, awfully confused and in disbelief.

“You?” He nods quickly. My head was spinning and I couldn’t pinpoint how I felt or how to react. How could it be collected, witty, dallying and charming James Abertnathy, has taken an interest in me? It was hard to believe, it was so unlikely that I just knew it was too good to be true. Someone like me never goes with someone like James, that’s just how it is. Despite that my judgement was clouded by excitement, never had anything so romantic occurred in my life, the thought of having someone like James as a partner was a dream I thought I deserved to live out.

“Wow, that’s lovely um..”

“So what do you say to a day at Hogsmeade?” The echo of his footsteps sounded as he drew nearer to hold my limp hands in his, running his thumb over my knuckles.

“She says no, more into redheads you see.” My neck could have snapped with the velocity at which my head turned. Of course, of course he had to be just around the corner. Of course he had to be hiding behind a pillar, probably running away from Filch after terrorizing an innocent student or professor. How could I be so blind, so naive? I couldn’t have anything good, because he existed. Looking up I was met with the smile that seemed to frequent his face, he waved comically as James huffed and walked away. I couldn’t help the quiver of my lip as I watched him revel in the joy he got from terrorizing me.

“W-why would you do that?” I couldn’t meet his eyes, but I could feel them on me. I couldn’t stand to look at him because I knew if I did I'd slap him so hard that even the lines on my hands would be imprinted on his face for weeks.  

“Because he wanted 15 galleons and you wanted him, it would have never worked darling.” Fred was lying, I knew it. James was popular but not an absolute prick. He lost interest in people, he didn’t place bets on them. 

“What are you on about? He..he wouldn’t.”

“Oh but he would, 15 galleons is one hell of a price.” He chortled, patting my head. I had gotten used to his belittling comments and I usually remained stoic, but it hurt hearing I was worth nothing more than 15 galleons, and hearing him confirm that just hurt even more.

“What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much? Ever since I got here you’ve been nothing but hellish to me. I’ve done nothing to you, I’ve never even had a full conversation with you! Merlin, this is the most we’ve ever spoken so please, Fred,  just tell me what it is I’ve done so I can apologize and you can bloody stay away from me.” My breath hitched, my hands shook and I felt disappointed in myself for losing my composure.

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing at all it’s just-” His continuous patting on my head had stopped and his hand rested on my shoulder, which I shrugged off immediately upon realizing its presence.

“What? Just what, what could I have possibly done for me to deserve this. Do you know that I have never written to my mother about a single good thing that has happened to me here, and you know why? It’s because of you! You selfish git!”

“Listen the only reason I did those things was because I wanted your attention.”

“And why on earth would you want that?”

“Isn’t it obvious I fancy you, like a lot?” He threw his head back lightly as he crossed his arms. His nonchalance was palpable, and I just knew that he thought he had won, he thought that I would suddenly change my demeanor and drop to my knees thanking Merlin he liked me. Unfortunately for him, he was dead wrong, sure he was attractive, very in fact but his personality made him the most repulsive and hideous human I could ever be faced with.

“Oh? Really? You’re going to pull that card? So you’re telling me the reason you were an insufferable twat for 3 years, was because you were too much of a coward to divulge your feelings? I find that very hard to believe, you’re practically known to be brazen without fail so why?”

“Because you’re you! You’re known to be indifferent, how would I ever get you to feel strongly about me in any way when you disregard everyone who tries to get close to you?”

“Well uh I don't know?! Maybe have a conversation with me? Ask me about my day? You could have done literally anything other than cause affliction on me for years. You ruined some of the best possible moments of my life, and I’m not going to let some sodding excuse of you liking me disregard that!”

“Love, please just lis-”

“I am not your love and I will not listen! What on earth did I expect from you? How could I be so stupid?! You’re right, you’re you and I’m me. And I know that I would never do anything to merit the havoc I’ve had to endure and I know that you’re only treating me like rubbish because you’re a bored little boy, who doesn’t ever get enough attention so you have to terrorize innocent people to fulfill some fantasy of achievement and success. A fantasy I know you will never achieve because you care about nothing but ruining the lives of others.”

He looked back at me vacantly, and for the first time, I knew that I had gotten the upper hand. In a way it felt good, it was like the revenge I’d been craving for years. Yet the other half of me knew it was wrong, to berate someone so zealously without listening to their side. I knew I had gone overboard and I knew the guilt would consume me later, but the memories of reading the first letter my mom had owled me fled in. The overwhelming guilt I had felt for asking her for new robes after the soot wouldn’t get out, the embarrassment of nearly missing the team from falling off my broom due to a fireball, and the insecurity I currently felt, after hearing that I’m worth only 15 galleons prevented me from holding back. I felt too much and had too little time to process it.

“Please just-”

“Fred, do you not understand what I’m saying? You’ve never failed to humiliate me and you’ve regarded me with nothing but disdain and contempt, I never said anything because I wanted to be polite but you know what? You don't deserve my patience or manners. You’ve never listened to anyone but your thick obdurate skull, but you know what you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen well. I HATE YOU! Now leave me alone.” I stormed off muttering the answer to the riddle once more and rushed to my dorm shutting the door and curling under my blanket. I could hear the footsteps of my roommate apprehensively approaching me. Her hand resting on my arm.

“Fred?”

“Fred.”

“Git.”

I felt nothing but guilt as I fell asleep that night. Fred was still human and though he was horrible to me, I could understand why he did those things, though they weren’t justified and I would personally never do it. Ron had told me before about how his brother was, how he really was a good person. Someone driven, thoughtful, kind, and creative. How he was a great older brother, especially to Ginny. I realized how hurtful my words were, and I regretted them immensely. 

--------

Hermione and Ron never failed to put on a spectacle for everyone around them. Whether it be arguing about the definition of a word or how barbaric wizards chess is, they always disagreed. So it wasn’t a real surprise when I walked in the great hall for breakfast when I heard their strident bickering from halfway across the room. Walking closer to them, the words they threw at each other became distinguishable.

“‘Mione- no! Listen, you’re not listening I’m telling you he does he really does!!”

“You never fail to prove your fatuous way of thinking Ronald. I mean I would understand literally anyone else, I mean she’s all angel but not him. He’s absolutely horrible to her. Why would you think such a thing?” Deciding to be nosy and sit here instead of my house table I sat next to Harry, nudging his shoulder as he snickered.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He nodded, handed me a roll and pushed his cup of pumpkin juice towards me.

“Any idea what they’re on about?”

“An inkling.” He smirked.

“Not talking huh?”

“Mhmm. Just listen I’m sure you’ll find out.”

“He’s my brother, I know how he is around people he likes- loves. He’s an arse to us, yeah, it’s in his nature, but behind our backs he would do anything for us. He just doesn’t want us knowing.”

“Oh wow Ronald, you’re gonna compare his love for you to his ‘love’ for her? How ridiculous.”

“No-bloody hell no! Don’t twist my words, what I’m saying is I know what he’s trying to do. The amount of times he’s stood up for her behind her back, you’d think he’s her puppy. Do you know how many people he’s hexed and pranked for her. Remember he gave Flint boils for a month after he called her a mudblood after a match? Or when he beat up Mullard...and Nilesmith and- Merlin I could go on and on. C’mon, he’d never do that for someone he hated.”

“Okay fine maybe...since when did you care so much about the relationships of others?”

“She’s our best friend! And he’s a git that needs to be calmed down, but you know he never does so if we end this now it’ll be better for all of us.”

“Wow Ron, you’ve unlocked the capacity to sympathize with other humans.”

I knew it was about Fred, and I knew it was about me.

Swallowing the unchewed bite of bread in my mouth and gulping down the rest of Harry’s juice I rushed out of the great hall, not in the mood to be reminded of Fred. Not in the mood to process what I had just heard. 

--------

The Triwizard Tournament. A time for friendship, unity and excitement. Ever since the Beauxbaton girls and Durmstrang boys came to Hogwarts the energy had been different. Something promising lingered in the air. Things truly felt different this year, and I’m sure they would be. There was so much to look forward to. New friends, the tournament itself and the Yule Ball. My excitement and joy for the new school year couldn’t be smothered, even by the fact that I had detention every evening for 2 weeks. I suppose reading in the restricted section after hours wasn’t the wisest thing, especially considering it wasn’t my first time getting caught. So here I was, using a brush no bigger than my pinky to polish cauldrons, the bristles getting thick and grimy from the remaining ingredients left in the dents of the cast iron. Humming to myself I let my thoughts wander to how exhilarating the ball will be, how fun it will be to dance with all of my friends, how pleasant it will be dressed up. Nothing could possibly spoil that not even Fred Weasley, I wouldn’t allow it.

   It had been at least an hour, my hands were cramped and I was anticipating the completion of my 30 minutes left until I could rush to my dorm. I had finished cleaning and now I was left sitting here, vacantly twirling the brush with my fingers. The minutes couldn’t possibly go slower but as I heard the offbeat footsteps that I had grown accustomed to looking out for I knew that my night was going to be much longer than anticipated. Once I heard them I knew to evacuate, but being stuck in the trophy room I had no choice but to stay, Snape’s unreasonable derision wasn’t worth the fuss. The tiny brush I was forced to clean threatened to snap as my grip tightened. When the footsteps came to a halt, the unease in the room multiplied by 5. Without a word, there was the sound of shuffling, a drawer being opened and a brush being grabbed. It took 10 dreadful minutes for him to finally speak. As soon as the first syllable dripped from his mouth I couldn’t hold back a sigh, of relief or apprehension, I’m not sure.

“So what color are you wearing to the ball?”

“Sod off Weasley.” I grumbled, straightening my back. Another 10 minutes of silence followed.

“I’m sorry...I know I’ve been a foul, detestable and painfully foolish ass. I know that whatever I do it will never be enough to prove that I never had any bad intent behind my actions. I know you think I’m a no-good inconsiderate twat who doesn’t care about anyone, that I’m bound to fail and I deserve that. The things I’ve done to you are absolutely horrible. But Y/N please, please believe me, I never did any of that to harm you. Just please give me one chance, just one and I swear if I mess it up I will leave you alone forever.” I barely understood a word he said, it was so rapid but I clung onto everyone as best as I could.

“Why should I?”

“It’s selfish, to ask for so much after all I’ve done but I know that you’re the most intelligent, kind, resilient and beautiful person I’ve ever encountered. And my feelings towards you aren’t enough to ever justify what I’ve done. I know that I have ruined every year of your time here, but please please please give me one chance to make the rest of your years remarkable. To let you live out the highlights you deserve, so you can write to your mother about how much fun you had going to hogsmeade, or how amazing the Yule Ball was, or-”

“You’re asking me to the ball?”

“If you’ll have me.” My breath hitched and I let my brush drop, and for the first time since that night I had divulged my hatred for him, I looked him in the eye as I stepped closer. I remained silent and did nothing but look at him, every twitch of his eye, every rise and fall of his chest, I had to see it, I had to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate game that he wanted me to lose at. It must’ve been at least 5 minutes because  his face dropped and his chest deflated,  he turned to leave but before he could I ran in front of him. Nodding my head yes, I held his face, running my thumb over his freckled cheek.

“This is for Flint.” I whispered as I slowly neared his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead after brushing his hair to the side. His arm wrapped around my waist.

“Mullard.” Another to each of his temples.

“Nilesmith.” The tip of his nose.

“And every other person you stood up against for me, even after everything I said to you and even though I never knew about any of it.” The corner of his mouth. His eyelashes flutter against my cheek.

“And this is for taking me to the ball.” I looked into his eyes, searching for confirmation that it was alright to continue, he squeezed my wrist in confirmation. It was warm and sweet, safe and pure. It was filled with passion, all the things we have yet to admit to the other was translated into this moment. I wanted him to feel the admiration I had for his confidence to stand up for the ones he loved to whoever defied them, every freckle on his face, every laugh that would emerge from the back of his throat, the calluses on his hands, the determination in his heart, the respect and love he had for everyone, hidden behind all of his playful antics. We pulled apart, laughing softly and refusing to let go of each other. Our foreheads pressed together and we hugged tightly, our arms refusing to release the other. I had never felt so warm, so elated, so appreciated. It was odd, especially coming from him, but I accepted it. I had never accepted any feelings towards Fred that were positive, but now I let them in freely without shame or denial.

“I can’t believe I used to despise you.”

[itsmeevie01]

Bio!Dad Bruce Day 14-Gala (Part 1)

ummm hi? i just wanted to give yall a huge heads up that this IS part one of two, and part two will be added when i have time to go back and finish. both my computer and my phone are acting up, and my tablet has a faulty keyboard. that said, im going to work to get things back on track. 

Two days after Christmas, the manor was buzzing with activity. The Kents had arrived the day before, and now everyone was prepping for the annual Winter Gala. Marinette was standing in her room, hands on her hips, glaring at her father as he tried to convince her that no, Marinette, the gala is not that big of a deal. down the hall, Tim and Damien helped Alfred sort through the myriad of suits and other formal wear that the siblings would be wearing the next night. Jason had left on ‘business’, while Dick was watching over the people brought into finish decorating for the occasion. Once the boys’ clothing had been sorted, Alfred moved on to check on Cass who had been studiously avoiding all activity related to the Gala.

In the Crewe Group Chat

Kim: Mari, when do you get back in town??

Chlo: M, there’s damage control to do, do you want me to wait for you?

Max: Marinette, you may want to check your Instagram. I know that you avoid social media in Gotham but…

Chlo: MARINETTE CHENG-WAYNE

Chlo: Pick up your phone

Chlo: MARI

Alix: Chloe, chill.

Alix: there’s only so much we can do if she’s busy today.

Kim: we need to take care of this somehow though.

Alix: do we have ANY OTHER WAY to contact m?

Adrien: why do I feel like I’m missing something very important?

Max: have you checked the news lately?

Adrien: I only really check AkumaWatch, why?

Max: check international news

Adrien: is… is this what I think it is? (Attached is a screenshot of international gossip. At the top of the page is a picture of two teens in hoodies moving away from an airport. They are dragging suitcases and have their heads down to avoid attention. The boy’s hood is thrown back, and his well-known blue eyes are glaring at the photographer. Above it is the title has Timothy Drake-Wayne finally found love? The second screenshot is from farther down the article where there is a picture of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, Damien Wayne and Marinette hurrying along a sidewalk completely bundled up. The caption reads could this be Tim Drake-Wayne’s mystery girl? Who is she?)

Chlo: YES

Chlo: and its gala day so she’s going to be busy af anyways.

Adrien: What do you mean its Gala day? There’s only one Gala today?

Chlo: Duh. Mari is going.

Chlo: Keep up, Adrikins.

Alix: oh god

Alix: does anyone know how her dress turned out? She had been freaking out about it last I heard, and we all know how much M puts by first impressions.

Adrien: Ok, I’m still really confused? There’s only one Gala today? The Wayne Winter Charity Gala, which is really exclusive and a huge to-do? What Gala is Marinette going to???

Nino: dude

Nino: please

Nino: don’t be oblivious.

Mari: what did I miss?

Chlo: DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?????

Mari: um…yes? Jason has been having a ball with all the press. Why?

Chlo: I thought you were trying to be low key?

Mari: tonight

Chlo: IM SORRY??? WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW????

Alix: well, it’s a good thing you have so many influential friends who keep ending up at the same Galas as you, Mari

Adrien: ok, I’m still confused

Chlo: your going to the Winter Gala, right?

Adrien: yeah? We go every year. The only entertaining part is the fact that the Wayne kids always fight. Otherwise it’s all snobby rich people.

Chlo: I’m taking offence to that, since Alix and I have also been going for years.

Alix: seconded

Mari: to be fair, you both tend to hide away and prank people

Adrien: wait. That was you two?

Adrien: And Marinette, how do you know that?

Mari: omg

Mari: I give up sdjkgb

Class Group Chat

Lila: guys! My friend reached out to me…

Alya: wait! Which friend? Is it…?

Lila: yes! Its Maralynn! She’s sooooo excited about her family Gala tonight!

Alix: Maralynn?

Lila: ok, you didn’t hear it from me, but that mystery girl? Seen at the airport with THE Tim Wayne? That’s her! They’re actually twins!

Chloe: oh! That means that Alix, Adrien and I will see her tonight! Its so cool that she trusts you not to reveal who she is…. (:

Marinette: lol isn’t Twitter convinced that she’s dating Tim? AWKWARD

Lila: Maralynn told me that it wasn’t worth it to go after the rumors. I’m trying to respect her decision.

Rose: that’s so sweet, Lila! I didn’t know that you knew the Waynes!

Lila: I don’t know ALL of them, just Maralynn! We were at boarding school together in Italy for a few years.

Marinette: OH WOW

Nino: Chloe, Alix, your going to have to tell us what you think of her?

Lila: oh yes! And if you see my boyfriend, send my love!

Chloe:…BOYFRIEND???

Lila: oh? You didn’t know? Tim and I have had a thing for a while

Marinette: oh really? Chloe, you’ll have to pass on that she’s thinking of him tonight!

Lila: I mean… not if you don’t want to! I wouldn’t want to be a bother on GALA night!

Chloe: if I see him, it won’t be a bother at all Lila!

Marinette shook her head and set her phone down as the class chat continued to blow up. As much as she loved Chloe, she knew that the girl was instigating Lila for fun. When everything blew up, Marinette wanted to be able to stand back and watch the fire burn, but not be close enough to get burned. When she turned in her room, the garment bag in the corner caught her eye. Inside, Marinette knew, was a long black dress. When she had run the design past Alfred, the English man had given her an approving nod. Later, she had heard him mentioning to her father that at least one of his myriad of children would be able to dress themselves. The comment had made the teen giggle and she had made sure to put every effort she could into the gown. More than anything, she wanted to make her family proud. A knock on the door drew her attention and she turned to find Cass standing there, her own gown held in its own garment bag.

“get ready? Together?” the noirette lit up at her older sister’s suggestion and she nodded excitedly. The other girl moved into the room and hung the bag in her arms over the wardrobe next to Marinette’s. after she had deposited her shoes, the older teen turned to her sister and smiled.

By the time that Tim came to check on them, both girls had finished their Makeup and were working on hair. The makeup artist that Bruce had hired was packing up her stuff and the hair stylist was partway through Cass’s hair. Marinette turned towards her brother with a smile from where she was standing in front of the hidden dresses. “lend me a hand?” He smirked at the frustration on her face.

“Gladly, Little Bit. Which one is yours?” when the girl nodded to the larger of the two bags, Tim frowned. “how big exactly is your dress?”

“Big enough for me to need help getting it on. Its not that it’s exactly heavy either! Its just…poofy?” he laughed at Marinette’s rush to explain and helped her pull the bag off of the dress. When the dress was no longer hidden, his breath caught. The black dress was stunning. He could see where it moved from black to grey to blue at the bottom, and the long full sleeves followed the same style. Hanging on the hanger behind the dress was a black hoop, and a pair of low heels (as tall as Bruce would allow, actually. He had to remind her ten times that although this was a high society event, she was still 14, and didn’t need to be dressing like she was 20.) sat under the layers of the dress. Where he had been expecting glitter and sparkles, Tim was surprised to find that the satin was free of almost anything that glittered.

“wow” Marinette laughed at his reaction and reached for the hoop.

“I know, right? It took forever, but its totally worth it! And, it’s the designers first attempt at this kind of formal. I think she did a great job.” Tim paused at that.

“LB, hey,” his sister tensed at the abbreviation for her nickname before she turned to him. “who exactly designed your dress?”

“Oh, just a small up and coming designer. You wouldn’t have heard of her.” Cass sniggered from her spot by the vanity and Marinette shot their sister a smile. “ok! Let me get the slip on, and then after the hoop is on top, ill need your help with making sure the skirt fits right.”

Marinette would not be over exaggerating if she said that the red carpet was incredibly chaotic. The only thing she could think of that was more chaotic was perhaps the last time Jagged had held a concert in Paris. After she had made it through the gaggle of reporters and the public (was that Mr. Kent, SUPERMAN, she saw standing in the crowd calling out questions? Dam that man was everywhere.) the teen dropped her purse, that held an extra set of shoes, in her seat. The rest of the family wouldn’t be in for a bit. Her father, Dick, and Damien would all be in the receiving line Alfred would be behind the scenes all night, and Tim was already striking up discussions with business partners. Cass was on the other side of the room, looking stunning in her deep blue dress. When her sister had approached her, through her website, about the dress the teen had squealed at the idea of designing the close-fitting dress for her only sister. A Blonde caught her eye and pulled the noirette out of her thoughts. The familiar girl who was making her way over had abandoned her trademarked blues and yellows in favor of a deep red that matched the garnets littering her jewelry. A few steps behind her was another teen close to Marinette’s age with a pink pixie cut slicked down. The other teen was wearing a suit that had perfect tailoring…actually, that was Marinette’s suit. The girl laughed as Chloe and Alix joined her, the shortest of the three standing in the middle to draw attention to her suit.

As the girls caught up, they scanned the ballroom. On the other side, Tim was starting to look frazzled, while Marinette thought she saw Jason slip in past one of the servers. opposite them, Damien and Dick were starting to mingle while Bruce moved to greet the Kents. As she swept her gaze over the room, Marinette blinked. There, looking straight at her was-

“oh no, its Adrien. Chloe I love you and all, but if that boy causes a scene tonight…” Chloe waved away Alix’s worries.

“I already told him to be on his best behavior. I am personally more interested in when Felix will get here. For all his big talk about transferring to a private school in Paris, I won’t believe it until the brat comes to see me.” The group stifled their laughter at Chloe’s put out response.

“as long as he doesn’t come over asking about everything going on, we should be good.” Marinette nodded at Alix’s statement on Adrien.  

Look for Part 2 soon! if yall have any thoughts, i’d LOVE to hear them, since i have the basic plot down and im fleshing it out now...

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part III

That Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any ideas of what I should write next

After the second night of Sander and Robbe’s arrangement, Robbe couldn’t eat dinner in the Great Hall for a week. A whole fucking week. He had Jens and Aaron sneaking sandwiches into the dormitory at dusk using cloaking and levitation spells. Lunch would have been an issue, too, if he hadn’t been spending those with Sander. Unfortunately, one meal a day together was the minimum for a convincing fake relationship.

“I can’t eat alone, can I?” Sander had asked when they met in the Great Hall after classes. “Boyfriends eat together.”

Robbe could do nothing but give in. They tried for dinner at first, and the following dissolved into lunch. Sander sat on the edge of the Hufflepuff bench, as if he were not welcome there, and held Robbe’s hand on top of the table while he ate whatever finger food he could and engaged in pleasant small-talk with Jens. He normally spent his evenings roaming the grounds.

Of course, that left Robbe and his friends at the table come dinnertime, watching Noor stare daggers at them. And that wasn’t cool. Britt’s ice-cold mannerisms at prefect meetings didn’t help, either, and only Senne could balance her out.

This month was going to feel a lot longer than Robbe imagined. If Sander didn’t find someone better.

Robbe was relieved when the weekend rolled around, because it brought with it Hufflepuff’s first game of the Quidditch season, against Ravenclaw. Jens made Robbe and Aaron run drills until one AM the night before. Peak physical condition was more important than sleep anyway.

Now, Robbe flew out over the pitch, one hand poised over his eyes to shade them from the sun. It took only a moment to spot the green and silver scarf in Hufflepuff’s black and yellow section, and Robbe knew that he didn’t really miss getting Great Hall dinners. So what if it was fake? There was Sander, in all his bleach-blond glory, sitting next to Senne in the stands and waving a black and yellow flag.

Sander locked eyes with Robbe and started screaming something incoherent over the wind. It was probably more about what people in the stands heard than what Robbe himself did, so Robbe soaked up the precious minute of Sander’s bright and happy face instead of paying attention to the message.

“Alright,” said Jens, gathering the other players closer for a pep talk. Robbe flew up a little higher to be level with the rest of the team. “Ravenclaw’s good. Great, even. But we’re better. Keep the Quaffle away from Zoë—she’s too fast and we’ll never see it again. Robbe, stop looking at your boyfriend.”

He wasn’t looking at Sander. He just so happened to be gazing the direction of the Hufflepuff stands.

The other team members muffled their laughter.

“Obviously, Yasmina,” Jens continued, unperturbed, “you are smarter and more capable than all of us. Please fix our mistakes.”

Yasmina played keeper. No one could protect a post like her, and the Ravenclaws knew it. There would be some faceoffs today. “Good pep talk,” she said.

“I try. Alright, I think that’s it. Let’s have an amazing match, no life-threatening injuries, no deaths. Go Hufflepuff!”

With that, the team shot apart to their differing positions on the pitch. Jens and the other chasers crowded the half line, Aaron and his fellow beater stayed back a little bit with bats poised, and Yasmina lounged sideways in front of the goal. Robbe decided to circle the game from above for a better perspective. The view reminded him of that from the astronomy tower. As play began, it was difficult to differentiate between teams swarming the pitch—a hurricane of bludgers and broomsticks. Robbe waited for the glare of the sun to highlight the golden snitch.

“Hello up there!” Yasmina called up to him, around five minutes in. Hufflepuff had pretty steady possession of the Quaffle. “See anything?”

“Not yet,” he shouted back. Ravenclaw’s seeker tarried by their set of goalposts. She hadn’t seen anything either.

“Is Sander really your boyfriend?” There was no judgement in her tone, yet somehow, Robbe felt it anyway. He curled into the defensive.

“Yes, and what of it?”

“Nothing. Just, Jana said so.”

“He’s gorgeous,” said Robbe, dropping twenty feet to do so.

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not—”

The Quaffle almost made it through the smallest of Yasmina’s hoops, but she batted it away before it could cost a point. Jens grabbed her rebound and sped away down the side, passing back and forth with a fourth-year chaser they called Macs. Another minute, and a gong-like noise signaled a Hufflepuff score. They were leading thirty to zero.

“It’s great, really,” said Yasmina. “I’m happy for you.”

Robbe didn’t know what else to say, so he mumbled, “Thanks.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sander’s unmistakable bleach blond move around. He whirled to the action. Sander was talking with someone, a brunette girl, with animated hand gestures. For some reason, it made his head buzz.

Yasmina followed his line of vision. “Who’s she?”

No one Sander wasn’t allowed to talk to.

“A friend,” Robbe said smoothly. “Watch the game.”

Sander could chat with anyone he wanted. It didn’t mean anything more than Robbe’s fake relationship with him did. Yasmina had the good sense not to push it.

The game passed at an alarming speed, no time to perseverate on anything going on in the stands, no time for any more casual conversation. Jens was a blur with the Quaffle, dodging bludgers and ducking under other players. Zoë was never far behind. The teams would have been locked into a helpless tie if it were not for Yasmina’s stellar guard of the goal. By the halfway point, Hufflepuff was ahead ninety to thirty, and not one sign of the snitch. Robbe busied himself by weaving in and out of the towers around the pitch, because he enjoyed the way the Ravenclaw seeker followed him around like a lost child.

He hadn’t seen a thing, and look at her go! Maybe he would nosedive to watch her streak beside him, or launch into the atmosphere with her along for the ride.

A bludger knocked into the side of his broom. “Shit, sorry!” yelled Aaron from his spot beside Macs.

By some bizarre luck Robbe kept his hold, but the impact swiveled him back to face the Hufflepuff section of the stands, and he’d been avoiding that particular sight. He didn’t have time to turn away again. Sander stood out like a sore thumb. No, better comparison—Sander stood out like a sunflower in a field of poison ivy.

Cool it with the similes, Robbe. Focus.

The girl was still around. Sander was allowed to talk to girls as much as anyone else in the world. Robbe was upset, though, because it messed with the believability of their dating life. That was the reason.

He swooped directly over their heads, hand outstretched, as if they were all too blind to see the snitch a few feet in front of him. Where the gesture came from, who could say? Ravenclaw’s seeker didn’t hesitate to join.

“The skinny bloke over there is Robbe Ijzermans, finally doing something purposeful this match,” Luca’s voice boomed from the announcer’s box. Robbe didn’t know her that well; Aaron had a thing for her friend, Amber. “He’s spotted the snitch. Or he looks like he has. Toss-up. Oh, and lovely Zoë has the Quaffle again. Give them hell, girl—”

What the hell. Robbe was supposed to be dating Sander. Sander was crammed into the Hufflepuff section for him. Really, it would be suspicious if he didn’t do anything about this.

He angled his broom to spin back around and make a second pass over the Hufflepuff stands. This time, he got so close to Sander that he could ruffle Sander’s hair before zipping away. Let Luca talk about what that meant. The girl scooted away from Sander on the bench. She stared at the wooden slats beneath her feet, while Sander put his hands to his mouth and called something that Robbe couldn’t quite make out over the rush of blood in his ears.

Then, a glint!

By the announcer’s box, there it was! He could see its golden wings fluttering about. Normally, he tried to tune out Luca’s long-winded description of the game, but it was a little difficult when her microphone boomed in his ears as he shot out for the snitch.

“Looks like our Robbe has spotted it now. Wonder what that bullshit was earlier, then. Sorry, sorry I’ll stop cursing. Oh, fucking hell—”

Ravenclaw’s seeker came in close on Robbe’s side. She seemed to be following his movements; she couldn’t see the snitch about fifty feet away from her face. Robbe did have 20/20 vision. Maybe he was just better. It danced around in the air and across the stands, forcing them both to flip over in order to keep the pursuit.

“Macarthy with the Quaffle, he’s headed toward Ravenclaw goal. If I’m allowed to mention this, I don’t think Ingrid’s actually caught the snitch ever—right, sorry.”

The snitch closed its wings and dropped from the air until it was barely above the ground, where it reopened them to cut a trail across the worn grass. And here was Robbe, pretty close to the other Hufflepuffs, still.

This was a risky move, riskier than the hair ruffle. But it was pragmatic, Robbe reasoned, and it got him to the ground as quick as anything else. If he ever wanted to convince other people that his thing with Sander was something, it had to be more than sneaky kisses that didn’t really count for much. Plus, Ingrid didn’t actually see the snitch. So no harm done if he just—

Robbe let go.

The freefall was shorter than expected; he kept one hand wrapped around his broom as if he were on the monkey bars at the park back home. His feet met the wood of the stands with a bit of a bounce. Right next to Sander. Thank goodness, because there wouldn’t be time to move over if he landed by the wrong person. He conjured the memory from last week, when Sander kissed him for the first time, and did the same, but briefer and with less tongue. Tongue would be a little too much for a game. The crowd roared. He could see the snitch spinning in wide circles just above the ground. Ingrid halted overhead, confused, and darted toward the Slytherin tower.

“Another point for Ravenclaw over here and—what the fuck, Robbe?”

Robbe broke away before the kiss could take too long, and Sander leaned inward after him, as if he did not want it to end. Spectacular acting. Noor stood up from her seat three rows down, their eyes meeting for the shortest of seconds.

Before he could regret the whole thing, Robbe gathered up his last bit of courage and bounded down the stands on his feet instead of flying, making quite the jump at the end. He barely got his broom underneath him in time to evade a broken ankle on the pitch underneath the stands. Macs swerved to avoid him as his feet grazed the grass.

He coasted the rest of the chase on the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the absolute shock on Noor’s face. In no way did Sander’s cutting smile make him weak, no way.

“Guys and gals, take notes,” Luca declared. “Oh, and he’s got it, that son of a— Robbe has the snitch! Hufflepuff wins!”

***

Jens was on Robbe before he’d even dismounted his broom. “The fuck is with the grandstanding, huh?” he demanded. “You could have hurt somebody. You could have lost us the game. What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I was—” Robbe tore his gaze away at the sound of Sander’s voice coming down from the stands.

Sander caught him in a hug and brushed his lips along the edge of his ear, whispering, “How dramatic do you want this to be?” Skin peeled from his chapped lips and beads of sweat caught the light on his forehead. He was still a Greek god.

“I don’t know,” said Robbe, barely keeping his composure. “You can—”

He cut off as Sander scooped him up and spun him around in a circle. At its end, Sander lowered Robbe enough to draw him into a long, deep kiss. If Robbe could do wordless magic, every tree within a fifty-mile radius would have caught fire and burned to ash in a second.

He had to stop indulging thoughts like that. Noor stood by the entrance to the stands, and this was all for her. Just Sander helping him out.

“Gross,” said Aaron, patting Robbe on the back. “Get a room.”

“Gladly,” Sander said. “How long before Jens tries to get back to the dorms?”

“Oi!” Jens wasn’t done being angry with Robbe yet. “You’re not having sex on my bed!”

“Somebody has to, and you certainly aren’t.”

“Wow, okay. You’re not even—” Jens cut off. They’d promised to play along. “You’re new here, shut up.”

Sander accepted gracefully.

The other fans swarmed the players like flies and followed them on the way back to the dormitories, where Hufflepuff common room would likely host a killer party to celebrate the win. Robbe lost Sander in the fray almost immediately, even though their hands had been intertwined. He should let the group carry him along; he knew as much. Now that the game was over, though, there wasn’t any energy left for something like that. Robbe sat down on the pitch and leaned against the wooden supports of Hufflepuff’s box.

He wasn’t gay. He didn’t like Sander, not like that.

There must be loads of straight guys who felt good when they kissed other guys.

It didn’t mean anything. The whole relationship was fake.

Why wouldn’t his heart stop racing?

He breathed in until his lungs burned, held it for eight seconds, and exhaled until there was nothing left in his lungs. When that was done, things were calmer. More rational. His lips stung from the kisses.

This was not the time for a sexuality crisis. Tomorrow morning, maybe, or Tuesday afternoon.

The crowd’s cheers and banter faded off into the distance. The last straggling fans stumbled their way to the castle. It would be dusk soon, and the sunlight painted everything a delicious shade of gold. Robbe couldn’t help but fantasize: Sander in the sun like this, Sander’s eyes in the sun like this, Sander’s long eyelashes in the sun like this. He hated himself a little bit.

“Hey.”

Robbe looked up. Noor stood a few feet away, wearing a Hufflepuff sweater and a pair of sweatpants. The late November temperatures were no joke.

“Hello,” he replied.

“I thought you’d be upstairs.”

I thought you’d leave me alone, he thought. He said, “Catching my breath.”

“It’s a good night tonight. Lots of stars.”

“They’re around every night.”

“I guess.” She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “You haven’t been at dinner.”

“I’ve been studying,” said Robbe. “Exams in three weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Robbe opened his mouth to tell her to spit it out, whatever she had to say. He was tired of talking to her. He needed her to disappear, even if it hurt, and fuck, he was a bad person after all.

“He’s going to get tired of you,” she said. It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t even that sad. She said it like a fact. “He’s… he’s not right. He’s going to get bored and leave you.”

That caught him off-guard. “What?”

“Sander.” Noor bit her lip. “He and Britt are going to get back together. They always do.”

Robbe scoffed. “I don’t really care about Britt’s take on this, no offense.”

“It’s not hers. It’s mine. Sander’s going to get bored of you, and when he does, he’s going right back to her.”

The whole thing was fake. Sander wasn’t even with Robbe. How could Sander leave if they weren’t together? Nothing Noor said had any bearing on Robbe’s situation at all.

He repeated that to himself.

“Is that all you came out here to say?” he asked. Hopefully that sounded confident. Robbe was still a little out of breath from the game.

Noor nodded. “I just thought you should know. Don’t get too attached. Sander’s—”

“It’s not really your business,” said Jens. Oh thank goodness, there he was, behind Noor. He must have turned around when he realized Robbe wasn’t with him. Sander was at his shoulder. “C’mon, Robbe,” he said. “We’ve gotta get back. I think they’re popping champagne.”

Robbe pushed himself up using the wall as support. He wanted to hear the end of that last sentence, even if he never wanted to hear Noor speak again.

What he knew:

He didn’t consider himself to be a particularly interesting person, never had, and today was the most brazen he’d been in his entire life.

The arrangement was made to be thrown away as soon as someone better stepped onto to scene.

Sander already knew that he was boring—Robbe was a prefect, for fuck’s sake.

Noor hadn’t said anything that wasn’t aware of already.

For some reason, it still stung. They started off down the worn grass that led out of the stadium and in the direction of Hogwarts’ main building, and, very purposefully, Robbe slid his hand into Sander’s. Because he could.

“Sorry!” Noor called as they headed away. She really did sound it.

“What was that about?” came Sander’s whisper in Robbe’s ear. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Nothing,” he hissed back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He wouldn’t worry about it either.

[bush-viper-cutie]

What now?

Pairing: young!severus X reader

Word Count: 3,700

Rating: T for teen

Plot: You are forced to attend the ‘annual’ physical education day and manage to make the best of it with Severus Snape.

Warnings: Bullying, kissing

A/N: I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :D

Posted: 4/4/20

Masterlist

(Part Two: Finding Rocco)

-----

(y/n) = your name

(l/n) = last name

(y/h) = your house

-----

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

“Students, please may I have your attention,” Professor McGonagall stood at the podium waiting for the great hall to silence. “Thank you. As I hope all of you know – considering its been posted in your common rooms since last Friday – that today you must participate in physical education classes as requested by several concerned parents,” she looked out at certain students. “After breakfast please report to your assigned meeting spot out on the grounds.”

You turned your attention to your friend who was laughing and shaking her head.

“(y/n), can you believe it’s back? I thought we were lucky to have missed this when we started first year,” she had her last bite of pancake and stood up.

You groaned, “I heard they used to have students run laps around the pitch until they managed to catch a silver chicken. They said some ran for two days.”

You both headed out the great hall and made your way out of the castle towards the grounds. You raised your arm to your forehead, trying to block out the blinding sunlight. You had only just started walking and the summer heat was already getting to you. You would gladly retake the history final exam if it meant staying inside on a windless day like this.

“My slip says by the river. What’s your say?”

You took out the small folded parchment and read it out loud, “’Please attend the Quidditch Pitch.’ Oh no, do you think the chickens are real.”

“Good luck. Maybe if you pretend to get hurt you’ll sit it out. Don’t worry I won’t take points away from (y/h) if you do” she winked and turned to wave at a few other students waiting by the lake already.

Your heart started beating faster at the thought of having to perform physical activities in front of a bunch of random students. The notice in your common room stated that houses would not be kept together.

You walked onto the pitch and looked around at the few students sitting around waiting for things to begin. There were a handful of Ravenclaws, some Hufflepuffs, a couple of Gryffindors, and a few Slytherins already here.

You walked over to the grass and sat down, crossing your legs and looking to the Professor, who was in a heated argument with one of the Slytherins.

“But I didn’t sign up for this one,” the Slytherin hissed, pointing at the ground harshly.

“Look. Maybe you forgot to turn in the slip and without a known preference your head of house placed you here.”

“I filled it in,” he raised his voice in agitation. “I handed it in after my potions class!”

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Snape. The one you signed up for must have been filled then. You will just have to manage,” the professor walked away into one of the locker rooms.

“Hey! Snivellus,” James Potter walked onto the pitch trailed by his three friends. “Nice to see you Snivellus! I didn’t know you were interested in Quidditch; didn’t think you’d ever get back on a broom after what happened first year.” James smiled, turning to his laughing friends.

The Slytherin boy lowered his head and clenched his fists, visibly shaking with anger. He turned and attempted to follow the professor in but got pushed out as the professor exited, shaking his head at him.

“Gather round please, students.”

You stood with everyone else and noticed James and Sirius Black had positioned themselves behind the Slytherin they called Snivellus and had started pulling on the ends of his black hair behind his head. The Slytherin boy did not flinch.

“Now, we will be splitting into four teams – is there enough of us? Yes – four teams and the pitch will be split in half. Two teams playing against each other on the left and two on the right meaning only one set of goal hoops to be shared between two teams. You will be riding the school brooms – no Mr. Potter you may not use your own broom – ” Sirius chuckled, “and now please lets have team captains…”

Sirius and James raised their hands instantly followed by a timid Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor girl. The teacher had them stand in a line in front of everyone else. James picked first followed by Sirius, both choosing their close friends immediately. Next was the other Gryffindor and last the Hufflepuff.

“(l/n),” Sirius pointed at you.

You jogged to stand behind him and the two other students as the captains continued picking. After another minute there were only four people left. The Hufflepuff picked: not the Slytherin boy. The Gryffindor girl picked: not the Slytherin boy.

“Sorry, James. Hate to do this to you mate,” Sirius said, picking the only other student that wasn’t the dark-haired Slytherin.

“Snape,” James grumbled.

The Slytherin hesitated before walking over, avoiding James’ elbow as he got to the back of his team’s line. You looked over at him and noticed he was staring at the ground, letting his raven hair cover most of his face even after the professor asked him to pay attention while the rules were being taught.

Sirius and James got paired up to play against each other so both teams went to stand by the sand under the hoops. You mounted your broom and kicked off lightly, hovering over the ground by only a few feet, still at eye level with everyone else.

Sirius pulled your team aside, “Alright. I’m a beater, along with you,” he pointed at the strongest looking person on the team. He assigned a Seeker and Keeper leaving you and two other girls as Chasers. Everyone split up with their new roles and took their positions.

You noticed Sirius lean in and whisper something at the other beater, pointing at the Slytherin and nodding. The professor flew over on a battered broom and readied the non-tournament-legal balls.

He dumped them into the air, “Just a few games of this until everyone switches activities,” and he blew the whistle.

The first few seconds were hectic, brooms flying in all directions and players almost colliding with each other. Your team was the first with the Quaffle, scoring ten points immediately for Sirius’ team. You noticed James had made himself a beater, holding a short stubby bat ready to swat at the Bludger Sirius had hit towards him.

After several more points scored, you realized the Bludger seemed to only be aimed at one student regardless what team was hitting at it. The poor Slytherin was dodging the Bludger left and right, holding onto the slow broom close to his chest. Sweat was glistening off his face and he kept having to pull back his long hair behind his ears to keep an eye on all the beaters.

“(y/n)! Catch!” one of your teammates threw the Quaffle at you and you pulled up, soaring up into the sky to stay ahead of the opposing team’s chasers. You dove down a few feet, catching them off guard and saw the hoops, unguarded.

James’ Keeper was distracted and laughing at the Slytherin, who was dangling off his broom. James and Sirius had stopped hitting the Bludgers and were just sitting, laughing as well. Without thinking about where you were aiming, you threw the Quaffle with all your strength, and watched it hit the Keeper square in the face.

At that same moment the Slytherin dropped several feet and hit the ground, landing on his side. A whistle blew in the distance and everyone touched down. The professor flew over and landed in front of the teams.

“I will start handing out detentions unless this foolishness comes to an end. Play by the rules or sit out,” the Professor looked around at everyone. “Mr. Snape, go to the hospital wing to get checked out.”

“I’ll go with him,” you said suddenly, surprising yourself.

Everyone looked at you, including the Slytherin boy.

You shrugged, “I need to cool off. It’s hot and unlike our captains I was actually playing the game.”

The teacher nodded, “Alright, go. But be quick.”

You headed out of the pitch, walking next to the Slytherin, who was limping and holding his side. The sun had risen higher in the sky and was now beating down at you. You fanned your face, hoping to feel any sort of wind. There was screaming and yelling all along the school grounds with all kinds of activities going on.

“You don’t have to actually walk with me. I’m fine,” the Slytherin’s voice was low and taut. He picked up the pace, taking long strides to keep ahead of you.

“Hey! Wait,” you started jogging, “What they were doing wasn’t ok. If you wanted to tell the professor I could go with you – “

He scoffed, “It may have escaped your notice, but no one cares. Not when it comes to them. Not ever.”

You slowed down, realizing he was right. You’d seen James and Sirius around and they always managed to get away with anything and everything around school.

You followed the Slytherin up the entrance steps, “What’s your name?”

He stopped and turned around, staring you down, “What’s it matter?”

You crossed your arms, “Because I only know you as Snivellus. And I’d like to not call you that.”

He looked down at the space between you both, running his tongue over his teeth behind closed lips. His eyes shifted back up to you, “Severus.”

You smiled, “Severus Snape, then?”

He nodded and turned, continuing towards the hospital wing but at a more normal pace. You walked down with him in silence. He walked in and you said goodbye, turning around ready to head back. The realization that you’d need to spend the rest of the day outside with the same group going through activity after activity made you pinch the bridge of your nose in agony.

You wondered if you could still fake getting hurt somehow. Actually, it had taken you and Severus long enough to get to the hospital wing that your group might not even be at the pitch anymore… A great and terrible idea was forming in your head.

. . .

The hospital wing doors opened ten minutes later and Severus walked out, no longer limping or holding his side. He started walking back to the entrance hall when you called out his name from where you were waiting.

He looked at you confused but approached, “Why did you wait for me?”

You brought your hands up in a shrugging motion, “Well… I had an idea and I thought maybe you’d like to join? Depending on how tolerable getting detention is to you?”

He blinked a few times, “You… want to get detention with me?”

“No! I mean not on purpose, but my idea COULD end in detention…”

He furrowed his dark brows and crossed his arms over his chest. “On with it. I won’t agree to anything if you continue being absurdly vague,” there was irritation in his voice.

You swallowed, “Let’s ditch this stupid field day thing. You don’t want to go back out there and neither do I,” he opened his mouth to reply but you continued quickly, “And no one is in the castle so we could stay inside until dinner when everyone comes back in.”

He sighed heavily, looking into your eyes for several long moments, “So what, you want us both to skip together… together?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “It would be more fun if we didn’t just go our separate ways.”

He stood unresponsive, thinking things over. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his shirt, pulling him along with you as you turned to walk deeper into the castle. You let go of him and he kept walking with you, keeping his arms crossed.

You could feel the question floating around his mind ‘What now? What was your plan?’ but you hadn’t really thought it all through. Normally it was your friend who was in charge of spontaneous ditch days. The only thing you really wanted right now was a good shower…

You turned to Severus but didn’t meet his eyes, “I’ve got an idea… but we’ll need a few things.”

. . .

You had split up to get a change of clothes – you refused to answer why – and met back up on the fifth floor. You saw him waiting by the stairs, looking around nervously. You tapped his shoulder and jerked your head in the direction you’d be heading.

You arrived at the statue of Borris the Bewildered and turned to the small wooden door to the left of it. You walked up to the door and bent down to the doorknob and whispered the password your friend had told you at the beginning of the year.

The door opened and you pulled him in. He stepped cautiously through the entrance and looked around, wide eyed and lips parted in awe of the chamber.

“The Prefects bathroom,” you said casually, walking over to the small swimming-pool like tub. “My friend’s a Prefect, so naturally she told me about it with the condition I never rat her out.”

You turned and saw his face flushed red as he realized what it was you were suggesting to do. You grinned, ignoring his assumption and set your folded clothes down on a nice smooth-stone bench. You took two towels from a rack and set them down.

He still hadn’t moved from his spot, just looking at what you were doing. You took his bunched up clothes from his hands and set them down next to yours and went to turn on all the odd numbered tabs around the giant tub. Soon the crystal-clear water turned pink and mint green bubbles foamed on the surface. You tested the water and smiled, wiping your hand on your shirt. Severus was still glued to his spot.

You slipped off your shoes and socks and walked carefully into the tub, soaking your athletic shorts and shirt.

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to… but its really nice in here,” you let your hair down and flung the band towards the towels.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was gripping the end of his shirt and twisting it nervously. You swam closer to the edge of the pool and smiled, cupping a few bubbles and bringing them to your face. You blew gently and watched the minty bubbles float up towards Severus.

“I thought we could hang out in here but… if you don’t want to… I mean I understand if you have somewhere else you want to be instead,” you watched him closely as he looked down at his shoes. “If you wanted you could sit on the edge and we can just talk.”

He nodded and sat down at the edge of the small pool, crossing his legs. “How often do you come down here,” he popped a bubble that had landed on his knee.

“Hmm, at least three times a week. Apparently, there is a schedule that gets sent out and everyone has to follow it. My friend told me all the times that were free so… guess I get to enjoy this place too,” you winked at him.

Severus looked away, blushing slightly, “Haven’t been caught yet, then?”

“Not yet, though I’ve never been here at this time and certainly not with…”

He smirked, “You’d really risk getting detention for a wide bathtub?”

You laughed, holding onto the ledge beside him and kicked your feet out, “You can’t judge until you’ve tried it, Severus.”

He looked down at the water carefully and untangled his legs. He removed his shoes and then socks, and slowly dipping his feet in. “Does this count?”

You laughed again, making him smile. His shoulders relaxed more and he leaned back, rolling his head onto his shoulder to keep his eyes on you. His hair fell onto his cheek and caught on his lashes. You turned around and submerged down to your neck and closed your eyes.

The water was warm and smelled like freshly picked roses. The faucets were still on, creating gentle waves that hit against your skin and swirled your hair around. This was the perfect remedy for such a dry summer day spent outside burning and sweating.

One of the small waves crashed harder against your skin and you opened your eyes to find Severus had joined you in the pool. He gripped the ledge and floated easily, maintaining an arm’s length of distance between you both.

“Welcome, Severus. You have officially joined the club,” you pushed hair out of your face.

He smiled slightly, “What’s… your name. I didn’t ask you that earlier…”

“(y/n) (l/n). I’m a (y/h).”

You stretched out your hand to him and he took it, holding it gently and shaking once before taking his hand back. You smiled and looked around at the water glimmering and flowing. The tub was deep enough you couldn’t stand, and it seemed like he also was not able to stand considering he was bobbing as much as you.

“What now,” he asked, looking around.

You laughed, bringing his attention back to you. “What do you mean what now? It’s relaxing. Haven’t you ever relaxed in a tub?”

He shook his head and sunk further under the water. Only his large nose and dark eyes and brows stayed above the water. His tendril-like hair splayed out on the water surface moving like dead seaweed on the ocean shore.

“We can play a game. But I only know one,” you sunk down to his level, waiting for a replay.

He nodded.

You sunk all the way down bellow the surface and swam to the center, resurfacing and throwing your hair back. You waved Severus over and waited for him. He pushed off the ledge and awkwardly paddled to the center.

“Close your eyes.”

He blushed lightly but frowned, “Why?”

You circled him, “You close your eyes and call my name once and wait for me to respond with yours. Then – with your eyes closed – you follow where you last heard me.” You stopped in front of him, “Then when you think you’ve got me. Just reach out. If you graze me you’ve won.” He closed his eyes then and you wasted no time getting as far from him as possible.

“(y/n),” he whispered.

“Louder Severus! Come find me,” you laughed.

He immediately swam to the corner of the tub where you were pressed up against the wall. You carefully moved along the wall and paddled to the center.

“(y/n),” he said louder.

“Severus,” you sang.

He swam towards you again. With every inch he gained you moved farther back until you were pressed up against another wall.

“Are you allowed to move while I’m moving?” He frowned, still closing his eyes as he reached the center of the tub.

You laughed, “Yes and no talking unless it’s my name!” You dodged quickly as he swam towards you again, arms outstretched. You let out a yelp as his finger almost reached your cheek. You swam faster, slowing near the rushing taps. You placed yourself between two of them, holding onto the brass faucets.

“(y/n).”

“Severus,” you couldn’t help but smile.

He swam over to the faucets, arms outstretched. You stayed as still as possible as he ran his hand through every stream, slowly. He moved in front of you, eyes still closed. You watched as his hand carefully cut through the stream to your left and very slowly made its way to your lips. The tip of his finger lightly glided across your bottom lip.

He opened his eyes and looked into yours. His hair was drenched and clinging to his face, small pink droplets resting on top of his lashes. You held his gaze long enough to see his black eyes glance down at your lips, the small droplets falling back into the water.

“You look like you want to kiss me,” you whispered.

He blushed and immediately looked away, moving to position himself between the faucet to your right and the next open faucet, using the rushing water as a curtain to hide behind. You laughed and swam forward to face him the same way he had faced you.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He looked away and shook his head, “Of course not.”

You nodded and climbed out of the tub, walking towards the towels and picking one up. “Sorry then. I guess I was just projecting onto you,” you smiled, turning to watch him.

You could only see him from the top of his head down to his nose as he peered over the rim of the tub. He watched you carefully, as if waiting to hear more. You felt your cheeks flush as you patted yourself dry and wrung out your athletic uniform as best you could without exposing your skin.

He climbed out as well, clothes clinging to his body, making him look much slimmer than before. He took a towel and followed your lead. You smiled at him, picked up your dry clothes, and walked over to one of the stalls to change.

You took a few extra minutes trying to calm down, hoping your cheeks weren’t are red as they felt and opened the stall door slowly. Severus was waiting for you, carrying his wet clothes in one of the towels and offering you the other one. You took it and copied him.

“(y/n)?”

“Severus?”

“I do want to kiss you,” he stood closer, looking down into your eyes with a longing even you could see.

“I want you to kiss me,” you smiled, inching closer.

“Not because you feel bad for me?”

“Because I want to keep having fun with you. Only you.”

“What now?” he whispered.

“Now you kiss me.”

He closed the distance between his body and yours and looked down at your lips, inching closer with every breath. You could feel droplets falling off his hair and landing on you, and smiled as you felt his breath on your mouth. You closed your eyes just as his warm soft lips met yours.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

(Part Two: Finding Rocco)

[everydayanth]

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years. 

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time. 

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall. 

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite. 

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week. 

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement). 

We were expendable. 

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short. 

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives. 

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.” 

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and  week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.  

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick. 

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry. 

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not. 

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge. 

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

[steadytigerobject]

Elgin Baylor wasn't going to be the beginning of anything. He certainly didn't set out to be the beginning of everything: the superstar who saved the Lakers and brought them to the NBA, L. A.; the transcendent athlete who "reinvented everything but the rim game" and changed the geometry of the sport; the avant-garde innovator who was, in the words of legendary Hoops writer Bob Ryan, “the most influential offensive lineman of the last 60 years.” He was fair ... Let's go. Trying to use the tools at his disposal to put the ball in the hole, in any way he can.

“The way I played the game was just natural, " Baylor told Bleacher Report's Dave Schilling in 2018 . "I never sat down and thought about what I was going to do. I was just reacting to the situation, to the way the guys were guarding me. I've done things that people have probably never done before. I just instinctively did it.”

These instincts, combined with a considerable amount of skill, strength, and athleticism, have produced one of the greatest and most important players in the history of basketball. They sketched out a plan that generations of super-sports wing scorers would follow-and, in fact, still do.

They propelled Baylor, who died Monday of natural causes at age 86, through a remarkable Hall of Fame career that helped lay the groundwork for the NBA’s transformation into a nightly highlight factory but that, for several reasons, has never quite seemed to get its proper respect.

These days, Baylor is most often discussed in the language of ancestry and lineage. In the NBA’s creation myth, he’s a Promethean figure—an early skywalker who, in the years before frequent nationally televised games and widely distributed video footage, helped pave a path toward the sort of eye-popping feats we now see every night.

“He just might be the best player I ever saw,” legendary Lakers play-by-play man Chick Hearn once said. “He was doing things that Dr. Julius Erving made famous 20 years later, the hang time and so forth. But Elgin didn’t have the TV exposure. Nobody did in those days.”

Those who did see him, though, never forgot it—and learned from the experience.

“In basketball, you watch and emulate the things other players do,” Michael Goldberg, former head of the National Basketball Coaches Association, said in Basketball: A Love Story. “Once one player can do a ‘wow’ move, then every kid in every school yard tries to do that themselves. Those that can refine it take it to the next level, and so on down the line. I would say that Elgin Baylor begat Connie Hawkins, and Hawkins begat Earl Monroe, and Monroe begat Dr. J, and Dr. J begat David Thompson, and Thompson begat Michael Jordan, and Jordan begat Kobe Bryant, and there’s more begats going on.”

Off the court, he was a fearless trailblazer who fought against the racist, segregationist policies of the Jim Crow era. On it, he was a groundbreaking slasher who, as Ryan wrote in the foreword to Bijan C. Bayne’s 2015 biography of Baylor, took “a game that was essentially horizontal and occasionally vertical and [made] it diagonal.” He was a tradition-flouting talent, an improvisational creator constantly unlocking new possibilities.

“His ballhandling ability at 6-foot-5, 220 pounds made him a one-man revolution,” Bayne wrote. “He had all the fakes and a sure handle, and some of his spectacular plays culminated in twisting, hanging, or gliding near or past the basket. Yet, it was the combination of those elements—the yo-yo dribbling, the subtle feints, the knifing reverse layups between taller defenders—that set Baylor apart from his predecessors and peers. Where such players as Hawkins, Erving, and, of course, Jordan became known for their trademark dunks, Baylor scored on one-hand push shots, banks, floaters, and fallaways.”

Baylor had the deepest off-the-dribble bag of his era, and he used every trick in it to score a ton. He totaled 23,149 points over 14 seasons—all after entering the NBA at age 24, all compiled without a 3-point line—which made him the third-leading scorer in NBA history behind Wilt and Oscar when he retired in 1972. (He now ranks 36th on the all-time NBA/ABA leaderboard.) He averaged 38.3 points per game during the 1961-62 season, the fourth-highest single-season average in NBA history, while spending a large chunk of it as an active-duty Army reservist who could play only on weekends and when given special clearance.

There was a bitter irony in that: Baylor performing at an all-time-superstar level while on leave from serving a country that continued to treat him and people who looked like him as second-class citizens.

Two years earlier, on January 16, 1959, the Lakers were scheduled to play the Cincinnati Royals in Charleston, West Virginia. When they arrived at the Kanawha Hotel, the desk clerk took one look at them—specifically Baylor, Boo Ellis, and Ed Fleming—and told team captain Vern Mikkelsen, “The three colored boys will have to go somewhere else. This is a nice, respectable hotel. We can’t take the colored boys.”

Rather than submit to the discriminatory policy, the entire Lakers team left, staying instead in a motel that welcomed Black guests. Later, Baylor went out with his teammates to get something to eat, only to be denied service at a restaurant, too. An incensed Baylor decided not to play in the game, boycotting to call attention to the inequality and mistreatment he and other Black people faced in the town.

“I'm human, " he told his friend and teammate Hot Rod Hundley, who was white. "All I want is to be treated like a human being. I am not an animal that is put in a cage and released on the show. They won't treat me like an animal.”

The NBA and the Lakers stood by Baylor. From then on, the Lakers will require that there be no segregation clauses in their contracts when organizing games. Soon after, then-NBA Commissioner Maurice Podoloff " promised to make sure that such treatment of black players in hotels is a thing of the past when they represent the League.”

” Of course, I don't regret doing it, " Baylor said in a March 1963 sports magazine op - ed. "I'm not a trailblazer or anything, but I'm interested in my people and progress. My name is Elgin Baylor, and I don't want anything more than I have a right to.”

That perseverance is evident again at the 1964 NBA All-Star Game in Boston, when Baylor, Robertson, Jerry West, and other star players “barricaded themselves in the locker room and announced that they would not play unless they were guaranteed benefits originally directed by the commissioner last summer”—namely , improved playing conditions, athletic coaches on all teams, and a retirement plan.

“[Lakers owner Bob Short] said to an Irish cop that guarded the door, ‘Tell Elgin Baylor if he doesn’t get out there, he’s through,’” Celtics All-Star Tommy Heinsohn told Mike Bresnahan of the Los Angeles Times in 2011. Baylor didn’t budge. The stoppage worked.

“For Elgin, in particular, the Black athletes, they had to be crusaders in this league and in many cases were vilified for it,” West told Sam Smith in his 2017 book Hard Labor: The Battle That Birthed the Billion-Dollar NBA. “That day has always resonated with me as one of the seminal points of this league. … That day in Boston probably was the beginning of something that few could comprehend.”

Baylor represented an inflection point on the court, too. In the early years of the NBA, the run of play was dominated by towering post players like George Mikan and Dolph Schayes, or sweet-shooting perimeter playmakers like “Jumpin’” Joe Fulks, Paul Arizin, and Bob Cousy. Baylor split the difference, combining the bulldozing strength and rebounding of the league’s best bigs with the speed, quickness, passing, and shotmaking of its top guards, all in a bruising 6-foot-5, 225-pound package. You know how James Harden is sometimes described as being built like a tank? Baylor was the same size and, in his day, just as tough to stop; Knicks forward Richie Guerin, a Hall of Famer in his own right, once said defending Baylor was “like guarding a flood.”

The way Baylor moved could move people. Stylistic successor Julius Erving described it as “just ballet in basketball.” To Hall of Fame guard Charlie Scott, watching Baylor was “like watching poetry.” They weren’t alone in their hosannas; Baylor’s play inspired some delightfully creative and high-minded descriptions from the ink-stained wretches tasked with capturing his brilliance. One favorite: “When Baylor gets the ball, the opposition scatters like quail at the sight of the hunter.”

You can only earn prose that purple with pure production. Baylor is one of only four players to average more than 25 points and 10 rebounds per game in his career, joined by Chamberlain, Karl Malone, and Bob Pettit. Of that group, only Wilt delivered as many assists per game as Baylor, a heady passer who still ranks 20th on the all-time triple-double list:

Baylor is one of only 10 players ever to have at least 10 appearances on an NBA first team; only LeBron James, Bryant and Malone have more. Nearly 50 years after his retirement, his career scoring average of 27.4 points per game still ranks third, behind only Wilt and Jordan. He still ranks 11th in rebounds per game, and in the top 30 in player efficiency, field goals, free throws, and total rebounds.

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‘We all have Hoop Dreams’: Bittersweet tale of first 'reality TV show'

By Motez Bishara, May 4 2019 (CNN)

When Dwyane Wade was a 12-year-old shooting jumpers on the playgrounds of Chicago, a movie came out that would help navigate him through his future Hall of Fame career.

Released in 1994, "Hoop Dreams" shadowed the bumpy fortunes of Arthur Agee and William Gates, two inner-city Chicago youths dreaming of NBA stardom.

Wade's path to the Final Four with Marquette and championships with the Miami Heat would be lined with the same challenges faced by Agee and Gates, including the pressures of injury and young parenting, and the avoidance of drugs and gun violence.

Twenty-five years since its premier, "Hoop Dreams" still impacts Wade. "I watched it many times, and it resonated with me because we all have hoop dreams," the recently retired three-time NBA champion tells CNN.

"Growing up in Chicago you struggle," he adds, "I look at "Hoop Dreams" and I can see myself in those individuals at the time."

Film critics like the late Roger Ebert lauded the three-hour documentary for exposing a side of America rarely depicted at the time: A class system stacked against the poor, coinciding with rising corruption in youth basketball.

Filmmakers Steve James (left), Peter Gilbert (centre) and Fred Marx worked on a very thin budget until three years into "Hoop Dreams," when they were able to secure enough funding for the project.

So what has changed since then?

College basketball is coming off a thrilling season, but faces intense scrutiny as a second corruption trial involving shady figures and illicit payments around the sport unravels in court. Meanwhile, Agee and Gates remain close -- bonded not just by their fame from "Hoop Dreams," but two devastating murders in their families.

"You can't script this stuff," says Gates, 47, a youth basketball coach in San Antonio, Texas, to CNN. "Our stories continue to (overlap) like that, because he lost Bo and we lost Curtis."

Gates' brother Curtis, a former high school star who flamed out, and Agee's father Bo were both featured on screen. Curtis was shot in 2001, reportedly in a dispute over a woman, while Bo - whose redemption from crack addiction and jail time was a seminal part of the film - was killed in a robbery three years later.

"It was very heartbreaking," adds Agee, who still lives in the West Side of Chicago, not far from where he grew up. "It's so eerie that me and William always say "Hoop Dreams" was a gift and a curse, and we both lost people that played a big part of our lives.

"And then for both of us not to make the NBA, you know, that eeriness, that gift and a curse is there."

Though neither athlete played in the NBA, both received college scholarships -- no small feat coming from the dire housing projects they grew up in.

Agee, 46, who attended Arkansas State, went on to play professionally in the now-defunct USBL and had a stint with the Harlem Globetrotters. He then turned to acting, with small parts in a film and commercials.

Agee remains tied to "Hoop Dreams," which provides his motivational speaking platform in schools, and still inspires viewers to send warm messages from places as far off as Australia and China. He also sells apparel inspired by the film, including a throwback jersey from his school days.

Gates was the more heralded of the two, receiving interest from top college basketball programs and a grant to attend the prestigious St. Joseph's high school -- the same school that is shown releasing Agee, seemingly for not playing well enough as a freshman.

But Gates blew out his knee at 16, then rushed back to the court after surgery and re-injured it. Though he played at Marquette University, the injury crippled his pro potential.

"For me, it's bittersweet on many levels," says Gates about the film which he has not watched in over 16 years. "It was a constant reminder of what could have been and what didn't happen, and also a reminder that Curtis is no longer here to hear his voice."

Nevertheless, he looks back on "Hoop Dreams" as a "life turning situation," one that led to an allegiance with Michael Jordan, who invited him to pickup games before his comeback with the Washington Wizards. (An injury derailed Gates' own tryout with the Wizards, however.)

"It has opened doors," he says. "It has done things that I never thought would happen in my life."

Dwyane Wade is pictured dunking the ball.

THE FIRST REALITY SHOW

What began as a short film idea from director Steve James and producer Frederick Marx to shoot Chicago playground basketball in 1987 with a budget of $2,000 quickly took on greater ambitions.

The pair hired Peter Gilbert as a cinematographer (later added as a producer), and the trio followed Gates and Agee on and off for nearly five years. With 250 hours of footage to edit, the production took seven years in total, eventually raising the $750,000 necessary for completion.

When it was finally released in 1994, "Hoop Dreams" went viral, though the term had not yet been coined. It was nominated for best film editing at the Oscars, but snubbed for best documentary and picture, which had critics like Ebert up in arms.

"I've actually gotten way more mileage personally as a filmmaker out of not being nominated than I ever would have by getting nominated," says James, who stays in contact with Agee and Gates. "Over the years a lot more people seem to be upset on our behalf than I was personally."

By the time it ended its theatrical run, "Hoop Dreams" became the then-highest grossing documentary of all time, paving the way for hundreds of sports documentaries and streaming series currently on air.

"I call it the first reality show," says Gates. "I think it was groundbreaking."

Gates' enrollment in Marquette was mirrored exactly 10 years later by Wade, who also struggled to qualify academically for an NCAA scholarship and sat out his first year for academic reasons, the university confirmed.

Wade shared other similarities with both Agee and Gates, including feeling the pressure to rush back to action after knee injury which required surgery at Marquette. Though the operation was successful, Wade later said it led to complications as a pro.

"I watched it when I was at Marquette from a different (angle), knowing that (Gates) was staying in the same dorm that I was standing in," says Wade, who -- also like Gates -- was caring for a child (son Zaire) while in college.

Wade was separated from his mother Jolinda at a young age when she succumbed to drugs, leading to spells in jail. Like Agee's father Bo, she turned to religion after getting clean, now serving as a church minister.

"Obviously, I was able to make it," but there are challenges, he adds. "What I learned at the time is you learn a lot about other people sharing their story."

William Gates was a 17-year-old high school junior when his daughter Alicia was born.

CONTROLLED CORRUPTION

Rewatching "Hoop Dreams" 25 years later lends perspective to how fast top college recruits are forced to grow up, and how much is at stake early on.

Gates' daughter was born when he was 17, during his junior year of high school. Trying to be a father and student while rehabilitating from two knee surgeries to make it as the next Isiah Thomas -- the former St Joe's and NBA star who makes a cameo in the movie -- became too much to bear.

By the movie's final scene, with his passion for the game already waning, Gates remarks, "When somebody says, 'When you get to the NBA, don't forget about me,' I should say to them, 'Well if I don't make it, you don't forget about me."

It's no wonder he needed a break from the sport by his third year at Marquette.

"I didn't feel like a 19 or 20 year-old-kid, I felt like a kid who had been working 10 to 12 years at a job," Gates says, estimating that basketball practice and travel would take up to 60 hours a week in college. "I had a lot on my plate."

Agee had his own growing up to do, with his academics thrown into disarray after his brief spell at St Joe's, followed by Bo walking out and his mother Sheila losing her job.

In one scene, Sheila cannot pay her electricity bill and the family is left without power, while a clearly humiliated Agee broods at the camera.

(The filmmakers pitched in to get the power back on, leaving that detail out of the film. "We didn't want to look self-serving, but we felt an obligation to do that much for them," says James.)

Agee transferred to Marshall High, leading the team on an improbable city championship and state semifinal run.

In recent years the public high school has been rocked by gun violence, leaving seven former basketball players dead and two paralysed, including Agee's ex-teammate Shawn Harrington.

"I didn't let St. Joe's defeat me; I didn't let my neighbourhood and my environment pull me in to gain drugs, carrying the guns -- that whole lifestyle," Agee reflects.

It helped that the teenagers had the right people on their sides. Gates and Agee admit they were given cash during their basketball ascent by the likes of so-called street agents, drug dealers and university affiliates who often helped promising players.

In "Hoop Dreams" Agee pays for Air Jordan gear at a store with money received from drug pushers. While at Arkansas State, he says a "big street pharmacist" whose team he played for in a high school summer league bought him a car.

"That was part of the deal," says Gates of being offered gifts from universities as a highly touted recruit, before committing to Marquette. "It was like, 'Hey, you need anything let us know.' And you let them know and they took care of stuff.

"Hey I need transportation, hey I need clothes, I need shoes. They figured out how to get it to you," he says. "They did it through a friend of the program that you didn't even know was a friend of the program. That's the way it was."

In response, Marquette said it "is committed to the highest ethical standards for the recruitment and retention of our student-athletes," while Arkansas State said it had no knowledge of Agee's car purchase and that "there are too many unknown variables to comment further about a relationship from approximately 25 years ago."

Arthur Agee was recruited to play at St Joseph Arthur Agee was recruited to play at St Joseph's prep school as an eighth grader. A year later he was asked to leave, and his parents were billed for tuition they struggled to pay for.

Arthur Agee was recruited to play at St Joseph's prep school as an eighth grader. A year later he was asked to leave, and his parents were billed for tuition they struggled to pay for.

Somewhat fittingly, Gates is now a full-time coach in the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU), the collection of summer leagues that insiders say has replaced high school basketball as the launching pad for college prospects.

Among the players that have passed through Team Hoop Dreams are all three of Gates' sons, William Jr., a recent graduate of Houston Baptist University, Jalon, a junior guard at Houston Baptist, and Marques, currently in high school.

AAU has come under fire by an ongoing FBI investigation involving sneaker companies funnelling money towards recruits to land at big university programs. The AAU told CNN it does not fund its teams, calling the situation an "apparel company scandal, not an AAU scandal."

"People are buying and selling players; it's a human trafficking market." says Michael Sokolove, author of "The Last Temptation of Rick Pitino," which sheds light on college basketball corruption.

Multiple federal investigations have led to guilty pleas from four college assistants on bribery charges, the conviction of an Adidas executive, and the firing of Pitino from Louisville.

Pitino maintains he had "no knowledge" of infractions during his tenure as Louisville's head coach. James Gatto, Adidas' former head of global sports marketing, is appealing his nine-month prison sentence for wire fraud and conspiracy charges in connection with a $100,000 offer to the father of a Louisville recruit.

With athletic wear companies paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to support top AAU programs, the potential to use them as a means to distribute money to the families of top players or an influential coach is high, says Sokolove.

"Some of this is laundered money. These teams can be used as pass through," he says, adding that the ultimate goal is to breed loyalty with players who become walking advertisements for the shoe companies on the court.

The stakes have become much higher to land top recruits like Gates was in the days of "Hoop Dreams," notes Sokolove. "There are more people with their hands in the cookie jar and the kids are largely pawns in this whole endeavour."

In 2017 the NCAA surpassed $1 billion in revenue, mostly through TV rights, while top players like Zion Williamson of Duke are limited to a compensation of tuition, room and board with a modest stipend.

Like many around the sport, Gates thinks college players need to get paid. He suggests universities contribute $100,000 towards a "graduation fund" for the player if he stays in school four years "to get prepared to live life."

Gates sees the current NBA age requirement of 19 as an obstacle towards paying black athletes, calling it a "controlled corruption" not seen in mostly white sports like baseball, tennis, golf or soccer.

"The two sports that are heavily dominated by African-Americans, it seems like there is always an issue when it comes to money," he says. (The NFL enforces a three-year rule before most college football players can turn pro.)

NCAA president Mark Emmert told the Associated Press this month that the organisation has "serious issues which require serious change," but paying players will remain unlikely.

William Gates (centre) is now an AAU coach in Texas. His sons William Jr. (left) and Jalon played together at Houston Baptist University.

PART OF A BIGGER STORY

Coinciding with the movie's anniversary, Gates and his wife Catherine just celebrated their 25th year of marriage. The eldest of their four children Alicia, who was born during filming, is 30 and works as a dental hygienist.

For years Gates would not allow his sons to watch all of "Hoop Dreams," fearing the scenes of his injuries would spook them. He finally relented, though Will Jr underwent four knee procedures of his own in college.

Agee has fathered five children, with his youngest Devin a budding youth basketball player in his own right. Devin's mother Jennifer Genovesi stood by Agee in the wake of a 2017 arrest after a woman accused him of battery.

Agee was quick to call James -- who he refers to as an uncle -- to assure him of his innocence. The charges were dropped shortly afterward.

"I'm part of a bigger story in this film. I never want to bring any despair or negativity into the story," Agee says. "He was like, 'We'll get through it together,' and that was good as that."

"I feel like they know that I'm here for them," says James, the film's director.

The special bond between the parties involved in the film was reflected once "Hoop Dreams," which was never expected to be a commercial success, caught fire. In a highly unusual step, Agee and Gates were made equal partners by the producers.

"They weren't just filmmakers," says Agee. "They came in over a period of time and got to know me and my family, and then stayed in touch."

Arthur Agee bought his mother Sheila a house with royalties earned from "Hoop Dreams." He now uses the film as material for his job in motivational speaking.

Gates and Agee first received nearly $200,000 each, and Agee promptly brought his parents a four-bedroom house in a suburb.

His mother, Sheila Agee, who was seen at the end of the movie graduating tops in her nursing class, relocated to Alabama in the wake of Bo's death.

After Curtis' murder, Gates was given an unlikely last shot at the NBA at age 29 with a tryout with the Chicago Bulls. But bad luck struck again when he caught the flu on the day of the workout.

"I said maybe God doesn't want me to play basketball," he reflects. "That's when my ministry life began to open up."

Gates received his master's in biblical studies and worked as a pastor at the Cabrini Green housing project he grew up in before settling in Texas.

He is thankful that Curtis got to meet Jordan before he was killed -- another imprint tied to his fame from the film.

"What came along with that was the responsibility to teach, educate, be a friend, have some compassion and show some understanding," Gates says.

"I've been very honoured, privileged and grateful to be part of "Hoop Dreams," he reflects. "It's been super amazing to be a part of something that has withstood the test of time."

[cxhnow]

CHLOE X HALLE AREN’T HOLDING ANYTHING BACK

It all started with a mood board.Back in December 2018, sisters Chloe and Halle Bailey, along with their younger brother Branson, wanted a weekend away — a “free your mind retreat,” in Halle’s words — to get some creative juices flowing. They hopped in Chloe’s Mini Cooper and headed to Palm Springs; 48 hours later, they left with 15 new songs and the spark of an album. Once home, they took that spark, plus a few old magazines, and created the mood board for what would eventually become their second album, Ungodly Hour. “There was a specific phrase that we were drawn to: ‘the trouble with angels,’” says Chloe, 22. “We didn’t know what we liked about it, but it stuck out. We picked a bunch of edgier images, including nude women and nude men to symbolize baring our souls and being naked in the music… After we finished the album seven or eight months later, we looked at the mood board and we had articulated everything we wanted to.”

Released on June 12, Ungodly Hour has received rave reviews for the sister duo. “Chloe x Halle shed their innocence with grace, as they do with everything else,” wrote Pitchfork, while Rolling Stone called it a “beautiful example of sisterly solidarity.” The album is a powerful, hit-filled record that’s made for the dance floor, while also seeing the duo — who were 19 and 17, respectively, when their first album The Kids Are Alright came out in 2018 — at their most provocative yet, both lyrically and visually. The album cover shows the sisters in matching latex mini dresses by Venus Prototype, standing intertwined, with gleaming metal wings protruding from their backs. “This album felt a lot darker, a lot naughtier than our usual selves, so we wanted to mirror that in the album cover,” says Halle, 20. “We wanted to show that we are strong and powerful and sexy. The latex did just that. Then the thing with the wings is to show that yes, we can be angelic, we can be fragile, but at the same time we are strong and built to withstand anything. And as a woman, you can be all of the above.”

On a recent morning in June, the sisters are dressed down in comparison to their hyper-stylized cover, but no less put together: Chloe wears her hair pulled back with large silver hoops and a glossy red lip, while Halle sits next to her in a ruffled turquoise blouse. The fact that they are camera ready at 9:30 a.m. — on a summer Friday, no less — is not surprising, given the pair’s reputation for professionalism (they are, after all, graduates of the Beyoncé School of Media). They answer each question thoughtfully, rarely speaking over each other or showing signs of disagreement; the only time the Zoom call — a notoriously chaotic interviewing vessel — gets vaguely off track is when their mom calls a question from another room (and even then, they swiftly mute their side of the chat).

The pair’s politeness, however, should not be confused for passivity. In both their music and in their beliefs, Chloe and Halle are quick to speak truthfully and clearly about what they believe in. Ungodly Hour was originally supposed to be released on June 5, but following the death of George Floyd and riots against police brutality that followed, they decided to push it back a week. “We were collectively mourning, in a way,” explains Chloe. “It felt very heavy in that week, especially. Being young, Black women, we feel very attached to what’s been going on. L.A. is usually always sunny, and it didn’t help that the sun was gone that week. We really felt it from all angles. We didn’t want the attention on us at that time.”

Instead, like many of their peers, they took to social media to make sure their voices were heard. “With all the things that we stand for and trying to bring about change and justice, we have to use our platform to speak up,” says Halle. “I’m proud to be a part of this generation. We’re not afraid to speak up and let our voices be heard. We are demanding justice. We are demanding basic human rights. Our skin color should not be a death sentence. Every time we see our peers speak up, we speak up right with them because we have to. It’s our duty as young Black women.”

When the pair eventually did release the album, its critical acclaim was met just as wholeheartedly with mass appeal; here was an album from two young Black women totally in control of their power (in addition to writing and performing, Chloe also produced nearly every track on the record). In extremely online terms, there was no choice but to Stan. “We have seen a lot of positive comments about the album, and that makes us so happy because this has been so important to us to release this project, especially during this time when we really feel it can be a healer,” says Halle.

With 13 songs that tackle topics ranging from heartbreak to the pressures of fame, creating the album was especially healing to the singers themselves. “In the beginning, we [held back] a little bit, but then we were like ‘screw this, we’re going to bare our souls and our hearts,’” says Chloe. “Lauryn Hill’s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, she was baring her soul and you connected with it. You felt, ‘She’s going through this, I’m going through this, and this music is for me.’ We want to create music like that.” Two major themes of the album, Halle adds, are the notions of confidence and vulnerability, as well as how they intersect. “The ideas are married to each other; sometimes you feel great and other days you are not so great,” she says. “For the album, we wanted to combine the two so that when you listen to it, you feel like you’re going through the phases of your life.”

Halle was in the midst of a new phase of her life — the starring role as Ariel in the live action remake of The Little Mermaid — when COVID-19 sent her back home from London, where she was in her third month of rehearsals, to quarantine with her family in California. But even with the album under their belts and the country essentially at a standstill, the creativity flowing within the Bailey household hasn’t stopped. Now that the album is out in the world, the pair have focused on creating groundbreaking at home performances, practically all of which have gone viral immediately after. “We realized that the possibilities were endless when we did the Dear Class of 2020. I was in awe like, ‘This looks like an actual concert.’ After that, the bar was set.” In the performance, the duo perform their hit “Do It,” swathed in white and crystals and shrouded in a circle of strobe lights. Between the cinematography, the choreography, and the overall perfectionism of it all, you’d never guess it was filmed in their backyard.

“After that, the bar was set,” says Halle. “And I can’t wait to keep raising that bar with my sister.” [x]

[paradoxon-3791]

Seeing as school has been officially cancelled for the rest of the year I thought I would compile some of my favorite things that choir teacher has said/done:

-“I slept for 20 hours this weekend and I’m still tired”

-“Some advice on going to Homecoming: don’t go and if you do go be prepared to regret it”

-“I don’t know anything about Billie Eyelash other than she’s accomplished more than I ever will”

-*to me when we were writing solfege in our music* “Oh are you writing about murder again?!”

-*said to me after asking about my weekend and telling her I went to the art museum and the ballet* “You are so much more cultured and classy than I am”

-showed up to my 8th grade dance looking like the wife of a mob boss in the 1920s, all she was missing was a glass of champagne and a pistol

-at the 8th grade dance she kicked off her high heels to dance the cha cha slide

-belted Bohemian Rhapsody on our tour bus during our trip to New York

-Also during our trip to New York during our tour of Radio City music hall when we went into the ladies lounge room she immediately fell dramatically onto a chaise lounge and posed like Oscar Wilde

-*in response to the group of kids she was chaperoning during one of our trips to six flags”Sure you guys can go on that roller coaster, I’ll stay here and smile as you scream your heads off”

-“Why did I decide to take y’all to main event when I can’t even bowl in a straight line?”

-one time I came in early to class and she was having a conversation with herself in a Gollum voice and when she saw me she shrugged and said it was”Just one of those days”

-at the end of every year we played a game of mafia and she described each of our deaths in great detail: one girl got her mouth sewn shut, another was eaten alive by scorpions, I was hung from the basketball hoop

-stared at a pencil someone had somehow gotten stuck in the ceiling for 5 minutes with an awed expression

-“So instead of trying and failing to get you guys to buy candles this year we’re just asking you to write us a check because the school doesn’t give the arts enough funding”

-*banging her binder against a cabinet* “I swear this room is haunted by something, but I’m going out haunt whatever it is!”

-“This is a democracy, but I am the dictator and you all must do exactly as I say”

-“Shoutout to my mom for cooking me pancakes this morning”

-“My dog is better than all your dogs and nothing you say will convince me otherwise”

-“So I picked this spicy little Spanish number because it sounded like what the Spanish Inquisition sang before they killed someone”

-“I tried to pick songs that you all would think were bops”

-*in the saddest voice* “Don’t drop your soup y’all”

-realized that she had technically won an Oscar in the middle of class and had an existential crisis

-“I don’t know what I did to deserve you chaotic children, but I’m glad I have you because you’re the only consistent thing in my life”

-“I need a new power suit so I can look like a mob boss and intimidate people on the street”

-“Macbeth is the best Shakespeare play and no I don’t take criticism”

[riverteatime]

A School in Time chapter 1

Author Note: Finally! Finally I have the brain to write this au. Yep, it took me one month to write this chapter because I was not certain of the start but there it is. I should make some Character realese Time too in fews days. But don’t expect me to write another chapter now because I have to go on university this month. I am going to do 1 chapter per month but it is not certain. If I realese not  a chapter at a certain month it is because I am busy with my studies or I forgot. But don’t worry I prevent you if I am too much busy at the moment. I am going to make more than 20 chapters so be ready. Oh! And I almost forgot but they have fews ocs in A School in Time (like Ondine). But I don’t want to make spoilers. 

Now I leave you to your reading. 

---------------------

“What a beautiful day to go on school !” Say a little girl

This little girl is Hat Kid. Brown hair, blues eyes, she is a very dynamic ten years old girl. She wear a small purple hat on her head, purple is her favorite color with yellow. She also wear a blue sweater with a yellow bow and a black skirt. The sweater and the skirt is her school uniform. At this moment, Hat Kid is ready to go on her new school.

“Oh, wait ! I almost forgot my book !” Say the girl searching in her stuff. “Here you go ! Now I am ready !”

Hat Kid go outside her home and walk through the forest. The little girl’s home is located on a forest not very far from her new school. She have to walk 10 minutes between each other. Through the plants of the forest, her walking leads on a small dirt path, that leads on a road. Just arrived at the road, she see others childs between 10 and 15 years old walking in direction of her school. At she look at the others children, she note something. She is the only child to go alone. The others children are in group of 2 to 10. She feel a bit sad but it was her choice. She moved to this village to go on this school, leaving her friends behind. But she is happy because she know that she is going to make friends. She is very good at making friends. 

The school that she is this year is named “The Time school”. It’s a elitist school, a student can be part of this school if he have good school notes. There are plenty of activities and clubs, such as sports clubs or even a cooking club. But The Time school is also the single school in this country to have a theater and to teach comedy. It is for that Hat Kid as chosen to become a student here. And she was the first of her class every year so it was not difficult to have a place. 

In no time Hat Kid is almost arrived in front of her school. Plenty of students are standing in front of a giant gate, waiting the opening. Where she is, the girl can see just two buildings with a part of the school yard. 

It is at this moment that a large man come to the gate to open it. The man is tall, he wear a red and yellow uniform and a blue scarf. Stangely, we also wear some sort of plastic white horns on his head making him look like a goat or another animal with horns. He open the gate with certain easiness. Hat Kid can see some students trying to imitate the large man. But even if they are like strong, the students can’t even move the gate. The supervisor man laugh cheerfully when he see the students relay each other to move this gate. 

Smiling for what she saw and for what she think, Hat Kid get in the school. She land on the school yard but what she saw at the gate is ten pourcent of what she see actually. In fact the school yard is gigantic. There are a football field with some basketballs hoops and the other part of the yard is a grass and flowers field with woodenbenchs. The trees are making shadow at some spot.

But the most important are the buildings. The main building is pretty big. There are a symbole of an hourglass that hang above the main entrance. Hat Kid can see very quickly two others buildings before entring in the main building.

After passing the slidings doors of the main entrance, Hat Kid arrived at the hall and she cannot believe what she see. The hall is some sort of a big corridor with a large staircase who lead on the first floor. The floor is making of differents shades of white tiles. The wall is blue and some stones pilars hold the ceiling of the hall. Every people who enter the hall for the first time, like Hat Kid, is amazed by this. 

Suddenly a man, who is standing on the stairs take the speech.

“Lady, gentlemens, students, welcome to the Time school! Is anyone there?” Ask the men to one of is supervisors. The gate supervisors, who is standing in front of the entrance shake is head to say yes. “Good! So can we start? I’m the Lord Tim but you can call me Mister Tim. I’m the director of this school.” Say the man. He has white hair, cause to his advanced years. He wear an elegant grey suit and an elegant white mustache. “I’ve created this school ten years ago to become accomplised my wish of becoming a director of an elite school. But I don’t like long speeches so... Teachers, can we start?” The other adults who are back to him say yes to him. “Every people who are not students can making their way to the entrance.”

With that, Hat Kid can see adults hug their childrens and walking to the outside of the school. After long minutes, they are no adults except the director, teachers and some supervisors. “Good” The Director take again the speech “Now we can really start. Young men, young ladies, you have done the choice to be part of our school. And I thank you ! You were from different horizons, some of you have travels to be here. But today is your first day on our school. Take the time to discover each part of the school and don’t be shy to ask at me or your teachers. Talking about teacher, I let you to my companions. Whereupon, I wish to all of us to pass a wonderful day !” After this speech, the director go upstairs and each students and the four teachers follow him with their eyes.

After that, a teacher with a blond hair and a dark cap asks to the others teachers “So... Which of us start?”

The thirteen minutes following, teachers call their students for their respective classes. They are four, the “cap-teacher” take an ugly irish voice to call his student. Another teacher back to him is more elegant with his black hair and gold eyes. The other men teacher is a bit strange. He is elegant he too but he wear some sort of mask on a part of his head that hide one of his eyes. Then it’s the turn of the single woman teacher of them. She start call her student and then...

“Hatika Borowski ?” Calls the teacher

“... Y-Yes it’s me !” Stammers Hat Kid adjusting her tiny hat then walking to her class comrades. 

After calling all the students, teachers with their students walk and enter in their respective classes located at the first stage of the main building. 

In the class, Hat Kid with her comrades scatters. Hat Kid sits next to a kind girl. The girl wear the school uniform with a tiny green bow in her sweater. A big bow is holding her brown hair. She has splendid purple eyes. When Hat Kid ask her name she say that her name is Bao but everybody call her Bow because of her giant blue bow. After every everybody took a sit, the teacher take the speech.

“Hello everyone ! I am Miss Cat ! I am your new main teacher but also your art teacher. And for those who want to rejoin the cooking club I’m also the Cooking teacher. Let’s talk about your planning first...”

While Miss Cat explain the planning of her students, Hat Kid observes her. Miss Cat is like a kind person who smile most of the time. She as orange hair and green eyes. She wear a chef’s suit with a white chef hat, a red scarf and she as like cat ears in his head. 

“... And if I call you my sweties don’t be afraid ! I call everyone sweties ! So now, I think it’s the time to you to see the rest of the school !” Says Miss Cat

And with that, every students stand up and go outside the class to follow the Cat teacher. 

“Here it is the first floor of the main building. It’s here there are classroom” Says Miss Cat to her students. Then she go to the ground floor and everyone follows her “Here it’s the ground floor. It’s here that they are my cooking club but also the nursery, the supervisor room, the teacher room and of course the director room. If you have an ask then go to the supervisor room which it’s open every time. Unfortunaly we don’t have nurse yet for this year. The former nurse was oblige to travel to another state. But don’t be afraid, a new nurse will come next month.”

Every student take the time to take their landmarks. Hat Kid, next to Bow Kid is wondering how big is the main building.

“Now we pass to the other buildings ! Follow me my sweties !” Says Miss Cat while she going outside. “At the left there are the cafeteria. It’s here you can eat. If you have a special diet you should talk to the supervisors. At the right you have the theater. It’s the home for those you would chose music or comedy as option. If you are interest with these, you should talk directly to Misters Snatcher and Moonjumper. At the left of the cafeteria you have the stadium. It’s here you can practise sport. Like music and comedy, if you are interest to take other sport classes then the usual you should talk to Misters Conductor, Grooves or Captain.” Says Miss Cat with a happy smile “Now my sweeties, you have thirteen minutes to take your landmark. Go visit ! If you have question or if you would apply for any club go talk to me”.

After that Hat Kid go wandering. She is quickly rejoin by Bow Kid who want to visit with her. They talk to each other and become quickly friends. The two new friends stop to each structure, talking about what she think of this school.

“So, you would apply for any club?” Asks Hatika to her new friend

“I don’t know. I didn’t think of that before. And you ?” Asks Bow

“ I come here because it’s the single school that propose comedy as option !” Says Hatika with a big smile

“Oh you would be a comedian ! It’s wonderful ! I don’t know what you should do but it’s a cool idea. You have such luck to have this goal on your life” Tells Bow to her friend

But suddenly the bell of the school ring. It’s the time to go home. Students go outside the school. 

“I think it’s time to go home. See ya tomorrow Hat, you are a nice friend !” Says Bow before running to her home direction. Hat Kid says goodbye to her friend before go to her home. 

“What’s a wonderful day! I make a friend the first day, my school is sublim and my main teacher seem to be very kind. I think it was the best idea that came to my mind to come here.” Says Hat Kid while she walks to the home path

But it’s that true that is a “wonderful school”? It’s an ideal beggining but what will happen next? Will Hatika be in the comedy club? The answers are at the next chapters. 

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 24 of SFV

Chapter 24 - Day 2: Passing Ships

(2:50pm)

"Here we are, Stoppable troops! South Dakota!" Kim exclaimed as the Stoppable-mobile crossed the state line from Nebraska to South Dakota. "We are going to enjoy a full week of family time and good turkey!"

She then asked her husband.

"Ron, can you check and see if the lemon squares are still good in the back?"

Ron peered his head and saw the container that had the squares.

"They're good so far, KS!" Ron replied.

"Good! We need to make sure they do not get smushed up by any means."

"So that means we're here?" Justin asked from the back seat.

"Nope!" Kim said with a smile, "We still have about 3 1/2 hours of driving left."

"AWWWWWWW!"

Both the Stoppable kids moaned in the back seat, for they were going to have to deal with nothing but the boring South Dakota prairie all around them.

(French Narrator: 30 minutes later)

The Stoppable-mobile continued its way onward up US 83 north to get to Murdo, which was an hour away from their current point. They had just passed the small 1,000-soul town of Mission.

Kim put her hands on the steering wheel, her fingers gripping the rubber. It was relatively peaceful in the van with the rest of the Stoppables sound asleep It seems that all of the issues of the first day and the whole issue with the camper's tire today was behind them.

All of a sudden, she then heard the motor of a convertible. She had not seen a car on 83 for a good solid 15 miles.

Huh? Who could that be in this patch of God-forsaken-knows where?

Looking behind her, Kim saw the convertible, red in color, coming from behind. It was going at least the speed limit, which was 65 miles an hour. The motor of the car didn't wake up the other Stoppables because they were in a deep sleep. The convertible finally caught up to the minivan in the other lane because a) there were no other cars around for miles and b) there was no solid line, so other cars could pass the Stoppable-mobile.

Kim then studied the well-built young man. She estimated him to be in his late-20s, early 30s, He was very well-built, toned, and muscular and was smiling at her. He was also wearing a white tank top to show off the said muscular frame of his and baggy jeans that were a size too big for him, for it showed off his green tartan boxers and he was wearing said jeans below his buttocks.

But the two physical traits that were a dead giveaway to whom he was were a) his blue eyes and b) those frosted tips that he still styled on his hair.

It can't be!

Kim couldn't believe her eyes. Deep within the recesses of her memory bank, she finally knew who he was.

It was none other than her old crush: Joshua Wendell Mankey. This was the first time in almost 13 years that the two had seen each other face to face.

Kim exactly recalled the last time she had seen...or heard about...Josh.

(late-March 2006)

It seemed so quiet and peaceful within the hallowed halls at Middleton High. Kim, a junior at that point like the rest of her friends, grabbed her books from her locker. She didn't have to worry much with cheer practice now that both football and basketball seasons were over so practices were scaled back to just twice a week as opposed to four times a week. But something else occupied the student body at the high school, a four-letter word that elicits beautiful dresses and young boys on the verge of becoming men in tuxedos in a matter of the next three weeks.

Prom.

Everyone else,especially the cheer squad, was trying to figure out who was going to date whom. The star QB, Brick Flagg, was absolutely no contest. It was Bonnie whom was going to take him to the prom, though she wished he would stop staring at the girl with the giant hoops at the mall. As for Jessica, she was with Steve Foley. And for Tara, she had Josh Mankey by her side. For Kim, though, she was SOL. Her missions of saving the world from maniacal villains with global conquest dreams left her very little time in the way of dating. Bonnie, of course, mocked Kim endlessly for this, but the redhead usually ignored her banter.

Jessica, that day, came up to Kim and asked, "Heya, Kim!"

"Hey, Jess! What's the sitch?" Kim asked.

"Oh, you know that we have that chemistry test coming up on Friday, right?" Jess questioned.

"Yeah, I recall Barkin saying something about that. No need to worry, though. I'm going to ace it!" Kim exclaimed.

"Well, I got a text from Ron saying that he may need some help studying." Jess said, pulling out a text from her flipphone of Ron asking for help.

"That's so not like him." Kim said, "He's usually...how do I put it in his words...chillaxin' to a Scamper and Bitey marathon or challenging Rufus to a nacho stacking contest at Bueno Nacho."

"He may have had a change of heart as of late." Jess replied. "He and Tara need help in Chemistry class: Ron from a D to a C and Tara from a C to a B. So I have come up with the idea of a study group to help the both of them out."

"Yes..." Kim replied, knowing that one of the only classes Tara was struggling in her junior year was Chemistry. "...that is a very excellent idea! Why don't we gather at my house for Thursday night before that test on Friday!"

"Sure! What about 6pm?" Jess asked for a time.

"Sounds spankin' to me!" Kim replied, "And can you send a text to her, Monique, Zita and Felix about it as well!

"Sure do!" Jess replied.

(A couple of days later)

"Do we have everyone on board?" Kim asked. It was Thursday evening in front of her house and the sun was going down.

"I'm more than ready to take on Barkin's Chemistry test tomorrow..." Ron said, holding his chemistry book, "...I hope." Rufus, from his pocket, was holding the periodic table.

"I think we do." Zita said. She looked around and saw herself, Felix, Kim, Ron, Monique and Jessica.

"Wait, girl, we're missing one!" Monique exclaimed, "Where's Tara?"

"Dunno...come to think of it, I haven't seen her at school all day." Jess added with concern for her cheer friend.

Kim then felt a rumble from her cell.

"I'll get that!" she said, opening up her phone.

It was a text from Tara saying: Kim, meet me in the treehouse at my house. Bring only Ron and Monique with you.

"Guess me, Ron and Mon will have to head to Tara's to see what's the matter with her." Kim said.

"But what about us?" Zita asked, looking at Felix and Jess.

"We'll meet you three at my room." Kim replied, "Right now, Tara's sitch is more important...whatever it is..."

(10 minutes later)

Kim, Ron, and Monique came to the Queen house. Monique was the first to knock on the door.

Mrs. Amelda Queen opened it.

"Oh heya, Mrs. Queen!" Monique said, waving her hand. "Is Tara around?"

Amelda said, sighing, "The poor thing has been in her tree house ever since last night. Me and Paul were trying to figure out what it was, but all we heard was sobbing from there."

"We'll investigate what it is that's bugging her!" Kim replied. "If there is anyone in our group that has known Tara longer, it's me."

The trio then reached the backyard where Tara's treehouse was.

"Tara? You up there?" Kim asked.

Her question was answered by the sound of sobs.

Recognizing the sound, the trio climbed up the stairs to where Tara was at.

"Tara? What's the sitch?" Kim asked.

Tara's normally carefully prepared wavy blond hair was all messed up. Tears were streaming down her face. She had eaten very little since last night.

"Hey...Kim..." the blonde cheerleader said with a sniffle, trying to wipe away her tars. She then tried to articulate a name.

"J...J...J...J..."

Tara then finally screamed it out loud.

"JOSH MANKEY BROKE UP WITH MEEEEEEEEE!"

She cried loudly into Kim's arms.

(5 minutes later)

After her crying subsided, Kim gave Tara another tissue. The latter blew into it and tossed it aside. Tissues were all over the place around the treehouse.

"He was kissing another girl during Spring Break while me and the family took him to the beach. Apparently Josh was more interested in girls wearing bikinis than my one-kini..." Tara explained, tears still streaming down her eyes, "When I confronted him about this at the hotel, he told me that our relationshp was done and told me to kiss a horse's butthole, to put it mildly. He transferred to Lowerton High after that."

Kim shuddered, "And to think...I had a crush on that blue-eyed cheat!"

(end of flashback)

And now, all this time later, the 'cheat' that she was referring to was now driving on a US highway, all muscular and making goo-goo eyes at her.

Kim then looked at the now-muscular Josh and then back at her husband, still asleep, picking his nose and eating the mucus in his mouth, unaware of what was going on with his wife.

Heya, Kim! It's been a very long while! Josh mouthed without articulating any sound.

Kim, an expert at reading lips, replied sternly, also not making a sound to wake up Ron.

What the Hell do you want, Josh? I do not have time for this! I am on vacation.

Wanna spend some time with me? he said silently.

Sorry, Josh, I'm taken! Kim replied with a sarcastic smirk, showing off her wedding band, Thanks for the offer though!

We'll see about that! Josh said with a wink of his eye as he pulled away from the Stoppable-mobile. The license plate, California by the design of it, had the plate of LUV ME on it.

Kim just gave a look of disgust and kept on driving the Stoppable-mobile.