#Byron I promise to be with you forever

[changingplumbob]

Art: *chuckling awkwardy* I mean... your mum has been through a lot. I can't imagine how difficult it would be to get over a marriage but-

Byron: I know she’s still upset about dad, but she’s going to be upset forever if she stays alone

Art: Look, I appreciate the support. I’m happy you think I’m okay enough to have a shot. But your mum has said she just wants to be friends for now

Coraline: But you could convince her otherwise, you know because you’re dreamy

Byron: I mean I think true love is bunnypoop now, but she deserves to be treated properly

Art: Ah. Well if anything ever starts up between us I will treat her properly, I promise you that

[burningvelvet]

Some notes and excerpts sent to Lord Byron from his many admirers — AKA, the Regency era version of sliding into someone's DMs:

“Dear Lord — A person whom you know well, and whom you have deigned to look on with some regard, taken by your extraordinary attractions awaits you this evening at ten o'clock in the back room of the Café San Fantin near the Fenice theater: do not be absent, my adorable Lord, if you do not want to force me to commit some indiscretion. Do not fear any sinister event; love me, though anonymous, as much as I love you, and I will be happy enough. Yours forever — if you want me — just now from home.”

“Milord — Excuse, my dear, the liberty that I take in sending you this note, but seeing you last night at the theater of San Benedetto my heart was smitten by you. Having no possible means of being able to speak to you, I have boldly taken the chance of writing you this note. If you accept my inclination that I feel for you, l will await your answer and will remain with the hope of embracing you if you would favor me with a simple reply by the bearer of this.”

“Being up to date on everything that concerns you, I knew of your new loves — daily you are offered rendezvous— all run after you because I permit a mere fifteen days to go by without seeing you — understand me. No longer an admirer, in order not to suffer your tricks any longer — but believe of me what you will — P.S. Tomorrow evening at eight o'clock I shall have the luck of seeing you.”

“From Home 25 Oct. 1818. Most Esteemed Lord — I would not have come to the Theater this evening except for the pleasure of being able to see your worthy Person and to let you know that I would like to spend, if you do not mind, a few moments in your House this evening after the performance. Awaiting this favor, I have the honor of declaring myself at your esteemed commands — most affectionate Servant — Eleonora de Bezzi.”

“Most Esteemed Sir — Although women are not the first to write, this time I permit myself to take the liberty, in order to let you know that if you favor me by taking the trouble to come to this Friend this evening at nine o'clock I shall have the honor of your charming company for a moment; otherwise there is no way for us to speak. Meanwhile I have the honor of offering my feeble service. P. S. I beg you not to let anyone know that you are coming to visit this Friend of mine.”

“A poor wife bows before your Lordship to ask for some help knowing how generous your beautiful heart is. I know that I am too bold, but the good report that I have heard of you, Sir, gives me courage to come before you, Milord; if my face were sufficiently pleasing to you I would consider myself fortunate to enter into some part of your beautiful heart, but I know I am not worthy and so I ask for your charity. Meanwhile I kiss your hands and declare myself your Most Humble Servant Suzana.”

“Are you ill? but why do I feel worse than you? Sunday evening after eight eternal days will I be able to see you? Yes.”

“Excellency — I wish to know if on Thursday at the appointed hour you will be available. The wise change frequently.”

“Tuesday at the theater Signor Petretin was in a box with you — bravo — after what you promised me, to let yourself be seen with him? If I were not in a very bad humor I would make you laugh by telling you what happened to me with the servant Marietta. If you are not engaged tomorrow evening with Signora Cortessi, at whatever time you like I shall come to see you — addio.”

“Having returned from Padua, I learned that in Benzona's circle it was being said that you made sacrifices for me — I, who know that I never inconvenienced you in the slightest matter, am surprised indeed by this gossip, and I beg you to do me the justice that I merit on this subject — I am certain that you are not the source of such a lie, for I do not believe you are capable of wronging someone who does not deserve it — addio, pardon.”

“I know that you divert yourself in your Gondola; I know about your romance with the Girl of Dolo; I know about the frenzies of Madame Segati; I know everything: and knowing everything — I also know that I am a fool still to concern myself with you. Friday I shall leave for Padua; I would like to say goodbye to you first. If your amorous occupations permit, you may see me tomorrow evening at eight o'clock. Farewell most noble Englishman, believe me with our customary excessiveness — your admirer.”

“You will forgive me for taking the liberty of sending you this simply to learn the reason I have no longer had the honor of seeing you since that day, given our understanding to see each other on Sunday. Subsequently I was deprived of it. Having had the pleasure of seeing you again at the ridotto on Sunday evening, I take courage to send you this letter through my maid. I await your reply. Yours affectionately — Giuliella.”

“Lord — Let an unfortunate Girl enter into your heart if she is ever to remain among the living.”

[nityarawal]

2/2/2024

Math= “Love Bomb You Anyways,” *2+2= 4

Morning Songs

“Of Course,” We Love You,”

Elon Drones

“Of Course I Love you,”

Drones

Of Course I Love

You

Anyways

Hashtags

Of Course We'll

Love 

Love Bomb You

We Promised

“It's Hot!”

Eloning 

Love More Than

Anyone Before

Anti-Harem

Choose To Love

A Gay Man

With All Our Hearts

Fearing Anti-Semetic

Smear

Big Love

Weaponizing

Symmetry

Motherhood

“Thunder From Down

Under,” Tragedies*

Surgeries

Anomalies

Hearts

Balls

Broken

Love With, ”All

Our Hearts,”*

“Love Eternal,”

Love Our Stars

Love You Starlights

Agape Valentines

Love You Mammas

Aunties

Even If You

Can't All Have

A Nitya Nanny

For Eternity

I'll Leave You

My Songs

I'll Share My Songs

You Can't Break Up

With Me

Because You Never 

Triangulated Me

With Government

You Can't Break Up

With Me

Because You Never

Matchmaked Me

You Can't Divorce

Me

Because You Never

Conned Me

You Can't Silence Me

Because You Never

“F'd” Me

Because Vegas 

Never Got Me

Into Her Lair

Got Alot Of

Free PR

“Egypt Station”*

Gay Cabarets

No Tips

Just Condemnation

“Space X” *

Kidnappings

“Solar City”

Eric Budd

Crypto Cons

“Boring Company”

Obviously Not

Trillionaires

Tunnels

Gold Alot Of Doje

Lost

Was That With

Ambitious

Dojo Bernards

Or Joel’

Swingers

Oleg Vydra

Day Traders

Born Again Kyle Cleveland

Lost The Spiritual

Center

We Gave You Goddesses

Chandra

Made A Fountain

Of Me Bathing

Pouring Water

Over My Head

We Gave You

Goddesses

Vayya Died Of

Breast Cancer

We Gave You

Goddesses

Helen Lost

Her Uterus

After She Married

Our Principal

And All Her Female

Organs

Bad Choices

Augmented Breasts

Diabetes

We Gave You

Goddesses

Ayni Raimondi

Was My Angel

Botticelli

Rolling Out Of

Bed

Masons

Millionaires

Pilots Fought

Principal Daddy

And Buzzed Around Her

Head To Be

Her Forever Dad

AirBnb Feds

Raped Us With

PNC Pfizer Banks

Into BBVA AI

Rewind Scams

Close Rewind YouTube

Close ElonMusk@Rewind.com

Close The Silencing.org 

Cohens’

Byron Katie Coaching

Centers For Cons

At Courts

With Abi Odam

John Hochman

Ivette Havasi Hochman M.U.M.

Hungarian Greencard

Spies

And Monika Fodor Mullen 

On Football Crimes

Headhunting My

Xs

Grooming Maxes’

And Jacks

Probation Officers

Soldiers

Beyonce Lost 

Her Pants 

Cher’s Back 

At Court

Elephant

In The Room

Is Our Children

Moms’

#FreeBritney

Elephant In The Room

Is Our Sisters

Gone

“Ganesh”

Remover Of 

Obstacles

Dr. Wally

Daddy’s Pilot Mason

Airforce

Hooker

Elephant

In The Room

Is The Mergers

With Brazil

Russia

S.C.O.

Elephant In The Room

Was When

The Little

Russian Giggolo

Cackled 

At Sharon Stone’s

Who-Who

Leg’s 

Wide Open

In “Basic Instinct,”

Rapunzel 

Giggled

Until

She Lost

Custody

Of Her

Kids

Elephant In The

Room

Is Elon Crying

#Rockets Tears

Rape

Extorted

Son Transed

Vivian

Trying To Shake

The Lineage

Karma

By Airforce 

Labs

Nazi Spies

Since Elon’s

Grandpa's Days

But Especially

Trying To Shirk

Errol Musk

And His 

Accomplices

Like

Ben Shaphiro 

On Parody

Rap

Sporting Dog Collars

Spoiled Boys

Can't Fulfill

Woman

Molded Last

Knight Standing

With Neuralink

Robotics

Keep On Singing

Genuine

More Flattering

Eloning

Eternal Love

Forever

Moms 

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

*Inspired By “Settings By Mona,” XO

**”Thunder From Down Under,” Is Adam Steck's Famous “Vegas” Gay Cabaret. 

*** “The Boyfriend,” Musical My Friends & I We're Trolled At Since M.S.A.E Maharishi School Of The Age Of Enlightenment.)

**** Elon & I are partners on Rewind- and I’m a silent investor on all projects he's involved in due to data crimes by our associates on various corporate/AI/Matchmaking/X/Twitter Cons. They obviously originated on Facebook with political hookers. I'd like to bow out of all US Corporate services and be sovereign when we rebuild for sincere Martians. We're done servicing court hookers- even our beloved BFFS that gingerly sold us and our children on black market. 

[kammartinez]

By Jonathan Taylor

Jet-lagged and exhausted, LeVar Burton rallied his youthful energy as he exited customs at New York’s JFK airport and climbed into a waiting limo. He had just traveled from the Zambezi River in Zambia, where he had filmed a segment for the April 4, 1982, episode of ABC’s “The American Sportsman.”

The car made its way from Queens to Manhattan, dropping him off at Central Park. He was there to shoot the pilot for a new public television show aimed at encouraging early learners to love books.

The show was to be called “Reading Rainbow.”

He was not entirely sure what the job was, and certainly not aware that it would become one of his signature roles. It didn’t matter. The son of a former teacher and a passionate believer in learning, reading, exploring and growing, Burton was all-in on this new adventure.

“Everything about it just made sense,” Burton says, more than 40 years later. “It was about literature and the written word, it was about kids, it was about having kids discover the power of literature through the medium of television and that was why ‘Reading Rainbow’ was such a radical departure from other shows of its era.”

From the moment he first met the “Reading Rainbow”crew, Burton demonstrated not one iota of star attitude.

“He showed up, got out of the limo, and I said, ‘Hey, how are you?’” Cecily Truett, co-creator, head writer and producer on the show for most of its run, recalls. “He said, ‘Well, I just got off the red-eye, so…’ I said, ‘Well, what can we do for you? How can we make you comfortable?’ He said, ‘You know, I’d love to have a glass of orange juice and a toothbrush.’ And that was it.

“He walked right on to the set, he ran through his lines and for the next 25 years he was on the set, on time, with his lines memorized....”

“For 155 shows,” her husband, Larry Lancit, another of the show’s creators, producers and directors, added.

Burton had to hurry back from Africa to New York because a skeleton crew was waiting to shoot the pilot episode, including anxious documentarians Truett and Lancit and fellow creator and executive producer Twila C. Liggett, a onetime elementary school teacher who had realized TV was the ideal medium to reach and influence young children. If “Reading Rainbow” delivered on its promise that a children’s show focused on the joy and value of reading could be set in the real America rather than on Sesame Street or in Mister Rogers’ neighborhood, it would get the blessing from PBS.

It did the trick. This month marks the 40th anniversary of the national premiere of one of the longest-running children’s shows in the history of public television.

That pilot episode centered around the children’s book “Gila Monsters Meet You at the Airport” by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat and Byron Barton. It is about a young New Yorker whose family is moving to Arizona, and who faces the fear felt by any kid torn from the community he or she has known and grown up with to resettle someplace distant, almost alien. (Spoiler alert: No desert animals meet the young man and his family upon arrival.)

As was the case in every episode that followed, Burton played host, trusted friend and calming presence. He was the face of the show and its most visible advocate, which was needed, since Liggett was forever searching for funding to pay for the show’s ambitious storytelling and wanderlust. Having the charismatic, passionate host on every episode and advocating on behalf of the show to Congress, parent groups and elsewhere made Liggett’s job much easier. Burton stayed with the show even when he got a much higher-profile job, as Geordi La Forge on the syndicated “Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

With the pilot shot — once the show got on the air, it actually was Episode 8 — all that was needed was the blessing, and partial funding, of the Corp. for Public Broadcasting (CPB), the private, nonprofit corporation charged by Congress to financially support PBS shows. Rev. Donald L. Marbury, at that time the vice president for programming at CPB, recalls the high-stakes meeting when Liggett presented the results of the pilot to him and his colleagues:

“In such meetings you couldn’t show too much enthusiasm or give too many positive signals because we were the Corporation, and we were bound by all kinds of processes and procedures. We did not have dollars to just say, ‘OK, we get it. Here, take the money.’ We had to go through panels, we had to go through outside groups and experts to come in and ratify what we thought were good ideas.”

And yet, because he remembered his own elementary school teacher decades before imbuing him with a love of books and reading, Marbury concedes, “When Twila comes in with this concept for ‘Reading Rainbow,’ you know I’m predisposed. I’m a kindred spirit. And so, she kind of had me from jump street, if you will. She had me at hello.”

Meanwhile, Lancit and Truett took a well-earned vacation to Puerto Rico, though their minds were elsewhere.

“Our whole future depended on whether we were going to do this thing or not because we were going to have to do 15 [episodes that first season],” Lancit remembers. “They wanted to show it in summer of ’83 and here it was January of ’82. So, we’re gonna have to really haul ass to get it all done.”

“We’re sitting on a balcony in Puerto Rico, overlooking the ocean and there was a tremendous rainstorm, when a big rainbow came across the sky and damned if the phone didn’t ring. It was Twila. She said they loved it at CPB and basically authorized the funds,” Lancit recalls. “So, it looks like we’re going to get started.”

Much of what became the template for “Reading Rainbow” — built around Liggett’s ideas that the show should encourage early readers to read to learn instead of simply learning to read — had already been decided earlier in the process, after the Lancits, Liggett and a few others had received the initial OK from CPB to develop the pilot.

“We knew what we wanted,” Lancit says. “If there was going to be a feature book and some sort of adaptation of that book, we decided that there really needed to be some sort of touchstone in real life that made the book come alive, by doing some sort of real-life experience that you can attach to the story that’s in the book. That was the genesis of what we called our field segment. And then we said, ‘Well, how do we introduce additional books?’ And we said, ‘Let’s do book reviews,’ and so we came up with the idea to have kids at the end of each show review books that were similar in scope, or message, or story.”

Aside from host LeVar Burton’s signature line before the young children would tout their favorite book — “But don’t take my word for it” — the show was different each time, which kept it fresh. A new feature book was showcased every episode, read by various known and unknown voices.

And unlike most other shows for kids, whether on PBS, commercial channels or, by the mid ’80s, cable, “Reading Rainbow”had no fixed set. Instead, it would travel — often to Southern California, in part to be close to LeVar Burton’s home — as well as across the country, around the world (when budgets allowed, which wasn’t often) or just across New York City, in pursuit of the right expert, the ideal setting, the most photogenic location to shoot a field piece. And, of course, there were boys and girls of all races and ethnicities to recommend additional reading options.

Among the notables who narrated the Feature Book that first season were actors Madeline Kahn (“Bea and Mrs. Jones”), James Earl Jones (“Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain”) and Lauren Tom (“Liang and the Magic Paintbrush”), and singer Lou Rawls (“Ty’s One-Man Band”).

One other book featured that first season was “Arthur’s Eyes,” read by a pre-controversy Bill Cosby), which author Marc Brown remembers as a key moment for him, “because that’s when Arthur started to gain traction with teachers, librarians, kids.”

In fact, it wasn’t long after that book was featured on “Rainbow”that Brown was approached by PBS about adapting his Arthur stories into an animated series. WGBH Boston producer Carol Greenwald emphasized that the aim of the series was to encourage kids to read.

That was different from some of the other offers he’d received to bring his popular aardvark character to TV. “I had had two other inquiries about Arthur on television, but it was a Saturday morning kind of thing. I would’ve had no control over what would happen to Arthur; they could put a gun in his backpack. And I didn’t want that to happen.”

Indeed, while PBS Kids, as it’s known now, was and remains a safe and welcoming destination for youngsters, it wasn’t the only place for kids to be entertained by TV. Shows aimed at young viewers aired on the big networks as well as on local stations, especially on Saturday mornings, but also in the afternoons, after school.

Until the passage of the Children’s Television Act in 1990, which wasn’t fully implemented until 1993, broadcast TV was largely unregulated — or, more accurately, was self-regulated.

That’s how a show like “He-Man and the Masters of the Universe,” which also began in 1983,got on the air. Based on the He-Man toys from Mattel, the series’ blend of product and programming spurred loud objections from parent groups, TV watchdogs and others before becoming a huge hit on commercial TV.

Sen. Edward Markey (D-Mass.) has waged a career-long crusade to hold broadcasters accountable for what they aired, particularly to children. He recalls, not at all fondly, his battles with President Ronald Reagan’s Federal Communications Commission, under the leadership of Chairman Mark C. Fowler, which followed the Reaganomics model and rescinded all of the regulations governing children’s TV.

So, when Markey, then a member of the House of Representatives, managed to pass a bill in 1984 that reinstated and even strengthened the rules that had formerly been in place, it was no surprise that the president vetoed it. Markey got it passed again during the first President Bush’s term, and he too refused to sign it, twice. It wasn’t until Democrat Bill Clinton became president and appointed his own FCC chairman, Reed Hundt, that the Children’s Television Act finally became law.

Even now, 30 years later, Markey remains bitter about the fights and compromises necessary to pass meaningful legislation regarding kids’ TV. Markey says the Reagan and Bush administrations “showed a deep-seated obeisance to the broadcast industry, almost genuflecting at their every whim, notwithstanding the harm that was being done to children across the country.”

It was in this environment that “Reading Rainbow”launched, a co-production of Nebraska Educational TV in Lincoln, where Liggett was based, and WNED in Buffalo, which was involved in the show from the beginning as well. Premiering any show is challenging, but it was logarithmically harder for this show, which had no fixed location, needed rights to multiple books for each episode, had to fight hard, particularly in the early seasons, to get placement on local PBS stations, and do all of it under tight budget constraints.

As far as figuring out which books to feature, Truett remembers coming up with basic standards, in collaboration with Liggett and some of the academic advisors the producers consulted regularly.

“Is it telegenic? Does it lead to an adventure that would excite the viewer? Is it kid-friendly? Is it about dinosaurs? (That’s a no-brainer.) Did it meet our diversity standards? Were there books that were reflective of children of all colors and cultures? … There were many, many standards for what got selected as a feature book.”

Then there was the matter of locking down the rights to spotlight the books, which was predictably agonizing, at least in the first season. The hard work of securing rights, and money, fell to Liggett. She chuckles now at the memory of dealing with skeptical publishers for rights to the book, since by the end of the first season, publishers couldn’t do enough to get their books on the show.

But in 1982, as the first season of shows was coming into focus, it was still an untested, unproven proposition when Liggett went to Simon & Schuster to get rights to adapt “Gila Monsters” for TV.

The Simon & Schuster executive couldn’t understand why her company would let a TV show have rights to the book; for publishing houses, the so-called “boob tube” was the enemy of reading.

“When we first started approaching book publishers to tell them about this and secure these rights, we were initially greeted with a lot of suspicion and questions like ‘What’s this all about?’” Marc Bailin, Truett and Lancit’s attorney who helped negotiate book rights, remembers. “Within a few years, the publishers were clamoring to have their book be a ‘Reading Rainbow’ book.”

That’s no surprise since, from the start, having a book featured on the show “increased the book sales of a lot of those titles markedly,” Bailin says.

By the time “Reading Rainbow” aired its final episode on Nov. 10, 2006, it had produced 155 in all, each with the same essential structure, each different in content from the other 154. It taught multiple generations of young children to love to read, to explore and keep their eyes open to new experiences, new people, new ideas.

Never the icon that its friendly rivals “Sesame Street” or “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” were, and drawing nowhere near the audience numbers of cable TV behemoth Nickelodeon’s hits, “Reading Rainbow”was still a show watched and beloved by early readers, their parents, teachers and others.

As Burton explains, “We recognized the impact on the audience and we leaned into it. It made sense, we were there creating content for children to enhance their minds, hearts and souls, right? And given that opportunity, we didn’t want to squander it.”

[kamreadsandrecs]

By Jonathan Taylor

Jet-lagged and exhausted, LeVar Burton rallied his youthful energy as he exited customs at New York’s JFK airport and climbed into a waiting limo. He had just traveled from the Zambezi River in Zambia, where he had filmed a segment for the April 4, 1982, episode of ABC’s “The American Sportsman.”

The car made its way from Queens to Manhattan, dropping him off at Central Park. He was there to shoot the pilot for a new public television show aimed at encouraging early learners to love books.

The show was to be called “Reading Rainbow.”

He was not entirely sure what the job was, and certainly not aware that it would become one of his signature roles. It didn’t matter. The son of a former teacher and a passionate believer in learning, reading, exploring and growing, Burton was all-in on this new adventure.

“Everything about it just made sense,” Burton says, more than 40 years later. “It was about literature and the written word, it was about kids, it was about having kids discover the power of literature through the medium of television and that was why ‘Reading Rainbow’ was such a radical departure from other shows of its era.”

From the moment he first met the “Reading Rainbow”crew, Burton demonstrated not one iota of star attitude.

“He showed up, got out of the limo, and I said, ‘Hey, how are you?’” Cecily Truett, co-creator, head writer and producer on the show for most of its run, recalls. “He said, ‘Well, I just got off the red-eye, so…’ I said, ‘Well, what can we do for you? How can we make you comfortable?’ He said, ‘You know, I’d love to have a glass of orange juice and a toothbrush.’ And that was it.

“He walked right on to the set, he ran through his lines and for the next 25 years he was on the set, on time, with his lines memorized....”

“For 155 shows,” her husband, Larry Lancit, another of the show’s creators, producers and directors, added.

Burton had to hurry back from Africa to New York because a skeleton crew was waiting to shoot the pilot episode, including anxious documentarians Truett and Lancit and fellow creator and executive producer Twila C. Liggett, a onetime elementary school teacher who had realized TV was the ideal medium to reach and influence young children. If “Reading Rainbow” delivered on its promise that a children’s show focused on the joy and value of reading could be set in the real America rather than on Sesame Street or in Mister Rogers’ neighborhood, it would get the blessing from PBS.

It did the trick. This month marks the 40th anniversary of the national premiere of one of the longest-running children’s shows in the history of public television.

That pilot episode centered around the children’s book “Gila Monsters Meet You at the Airport” by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat and Byron Barton. It is about a young New Yorker whose family is moving to Arizona, and who faces the fear felt by any kid torn from the community he or she has known and grown up with to resettle someplace distant, almost alien. (Spoiler alert: No desert animals meet the young man and his family upon arrival.)

As was the case in every episode that followed, Burton played host, trusted friend and calming presence. He was the face of the show and its most visible advocate, which was needed, since Liggett was forever searching for funding to pay for the show’s ambitious storytelling and wanderlust. Having the charismatic, passionate host on every episode and advocating on behalf of the show to Congress, parent groups and elsewhere made Liggett’s job much easier. Burton stayed with the show even when he got a much higher-profile job, as Geordi La Forge on the syndicated “Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

With the pilot shot — once the show got on the air, it actually was Episode 8 — all that was needed was the blessing, and partial funding, of the Corp. for Public Broadcasting (CPB), the private, nonprofit corporation charged by Congress to financially support PBS shows. Rev. Donald L. Marbury, at that time the vice president for programming at CPB, recalls the high-stakes meeting when Liggett presented the results of the pilot to him and his colleagues:

“In such meetings you couldn’t show too much enthusiasm or give too many positive signals because we were the Corporation, and we were bound by all kinds of processes and procedures. We did not have dollars to just say, ‘OK, we get it. Here, take the money.’ We had to go through panels, we had to go through outside groups and experts to come in and ratify what we thought were good ideas.”

And yet, because he remembered his own elementary school teacher decades before imbuing him with a love of books and reading, Marbury concedes, “When Twila comes in with this concept for ‘Reading Rainbow,’ you know I’m predisposed. I’m a kindred spirit. And so, she kind of had me from jump street, if you will. She had me at hello.”

Meanwhile, Lancit and Truett took a well-earned vacation to Puerto Rico, though their minds were elsewhere.

“Our whole future depended on whether we were going to do this thing or not because we were going to have to do 15 [episodes that first season],” Lancit remembers. “They wanted to show it in summer of ’83 and here it was January of ’82. So, we’re gonna have to really haul ass to get it all done.”

“We’re sitting on a balcony in Puerto Rico, overlooking the ocean and there was a tremendous rainstorm, when a big rainbow came across the sky and damned if the phone didn’t ring. It was Twila. She said they loved it at CPB and basically authorized the funds,” Lancit recalls. “So, it looks like we’re going to get started.”

Much of what became the template for “Reading Rainbow” — built around Liggett’s ideas that the show should encourage early readers to read to learn instead of simply learning to read — had already been decided earlier in the process, after the Lancits, Liggett and a few others had received the initial OK from CPB to develop the pilot.

“We knew what we wanted,” Lancit says. “If there was going to be a feature book and some sort of adaptation of that book, we decided that there really needed to be some sort of touchstone in real life that made the book come alive, by doing some sort of real-life experience that you can attach to the story that’s in the book. That was the genesis of what we called our field segment. And then we said, ‘Well, how do we introduce additional books?’ And we said, ‘Let’s do book reviews,’ and so we came up with the idea to have kids at the end of each show review books that were similar in scope, or message, or story.”

Aside from host LeVar Burton’s signature line before the young children would tout their favorite book — “But don’t take my word for it” — the show was different each time, which kept it fresh. A new feature book was showcased every episode, read by various known and unknown voices.

And unlike most other shows for kids, whether on PBS, commercial channels or, by the mid ’80s, cable, “Reading Rainbow”had no fixed set. Instead, it would travel — often to Southern California, in part to be close to LeVar Burton’s home — as well as across the country, around the world (when budgets allowed, which wasn’t often) or just across New York City, in pursuit of the right expert, the ideal setting, the most photogenic location to shoot a field piece. And, of course, there were boys and girls of all races and ethnicities to recommend additional reading options.

Among the notables who narrated the Feature Book that first season were actors Madeline Kahn (“Bea and Mrs. Jones”), James Earl Jones (“Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain”) and Lauren Tom (“Liang and the Magic Paintbrush”), and singer Lou Rawls (“Ty’s One-Man Band”).

One other book featured that first season was “Arthur’s Eyes,” read by a pre-controversy Bill Cosby), which author Marc Brown remembers as a key moment for him, “because that’s when Arthur started to gain traction with teachers, librarians, kids.”

In fact, it wasn’t long after that book was featured on “Rainbow”that Brown was approached by PBS about adapting his Arthur stories into an animated series. WGBH Boston producer Carol Greenwald emphasized that the aim of the series was to encourage kids to read.

That was different from some of the other offers he’d received to bring his popular aardvark character to TV. “I had had two other inquiries about Arthur on television, but it was a Saturday morning kind of thing. I would’ve had no control over what would happen to Arthur; they could put a gun in his backpack. And I didn’t want that to happen.”

Indeed, while PBS Kids, as it’s known now, was and remains a safe and welcoming destination for youngsters, it wasn’t the only place for kids to be entertained by TV. Shows aimed at young viewers aired on the big networks as well as on local stations, especially on Saturday mornings, but also in the afternoons, after school.

Until the passage of the Children’s Television Act in 1990, which wasn’t fully implemented until 1993, broadcast TV was largely unregulated — or, more accurately, was self-regulated.

That’s how a show like “He-Man and the Masters of the Universe,” which also began in 1983,got on the air. Based on the He-Man toys from Mattel, the series’ blend of product and programming spurred loud objections from parent groups, TV watchdogs and others before becoming a huge hit on commercial TV.

Sen. Edward Markey (D-Mass.) has waged a career-long crusade to hold broadcasters accountable for what they aired, particularly to children. He recalls, not at all fondly, his battles with President Ronald Reagan’s Federal Communications Commission, under the leadership of Chairman Mark C. Fowler, which followed the Reaganomics model and rescinded all of the regulations governing children’s TV.

So, when Markey, then a member of the House of Representatives, managed to pass a bill in 1984 that reinstated and even strengthened the rules that had formerly been in place, it was no surprise that the president vetoed it. Markey got it passed again during the first President Bush’s term, and he too refused to sign it, twice. It wasn’t until Democrat Bill Clinton became president and appointed his own FCC chairman, Reed Hundt, that the Children’s Television Act finally became law.

Even now, 30 years later, Markey remains bitter about the fights and compromises necessary to pass meaningful legislation regarding kids’ TV. Markey says the Reagan and Bush administrations “showed a deep-seated obeisance to the broadcast industry, almost genuflecting at their every whim, notwithstanding the harm that was being done to children across the country.”

It was in this environment that “Reading Rainbow”launched, a co-production of Nebraska Educational TV in Lincoln, where Liggett was based, and WNED in Buffalo, which was involved in the show from the beginning as well. Premiering any show is challenging, but it was logarithmically harder for this show, which had no fixed location, needed rights to multiple books for each episode, had to fight hard, particularly in the early seasons, to get placement on local PBS stations, and do all of it under tight budget constraints.

As far as figuring out which books to feature, Truett remembers coming up with basic standards, in collaboration with Liggett and some of the academic advisors the producers consulted regularly.

“Is it telegenic? Does it lead to an adventure that would excite the viewer? Is it kid-friendly? Is it about dinosaurs? (That’s a no-brainer.) Did it meet our diversity standards? Were there books that were reflective of children of all colors and cultures? … There were many, many standards for what got selected as a feature book.”

Then there was the matter of locking down the rights to spotlight the books, which was predictably agonizing, at least in the first season. The hard work of securing rights, and money, fell to Liggett. She chuckles now at the memory of dealing with skeptical publishers for rights to the book, since by the end of the first season, publishers couldn’t do enough to get their books on the show.

But in 1982, as the first season of shows was coming into focus, it was still an untested, unproven proposition when Liggett went to Simon & Schuster to get rights to adapt “Gila Monsters” for TV.

The Simon & Schuster executive couldn’t understand why her company would let a TV show have rights to the book; for publishing houses, the so-called “boob tube” was the enemy of reading.

“When we first started approaching book publishers to tell them about this and secure these rights, we were initially greeted with a lot of suspicion and questions like ‘What’s this all about?’” Marc Bailin, Truett and Lancit’s attorney who helped negotiate book rights, remembers. “Within a few years, the publishers were clamoring to have their book be a ‘Reading Rainbow’ book.”

That’s no surprise since, from the start, having a book featured on the show “increased the book sales of a lot of those titles markedly,” Bailin says.

By the time “Reading Rainbow” aired its final episode on Nov. 10, 2006, it had produced 155 in all, each with the same essential structure, each different in content from the other 154. It taught multiple generations of young children to love to read, to explore and keep their eyes open to new experiences, new people, new ideas.

Never the icon that its friendly rivals “Sesame Street” or “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” were, and drawing nowhere near the audience numbers of cable TV behemoth Nickelodeon’s hits, “Reading Rainbow”was still a show watched and beloved by early readers, their parents, teachers and others.

As Burton explains, “We recognized the impact on the audience and we leaned into it. It made sense, we were there creating content for children to enhance their minds, hearts and souls, right? And given that opportunity, we didn’t want to squander it.”



[phoenix-flamed]

When had Jill settled against him? He hadn't noticed; and it wasn't that he minds the gesture, in fact it brings him immeasurable joy. It forever tugs at the corners of his mind that the young girl may very well loathe him for bringing her here -- and if she did, he would not blame her in the slightest, despite how happy Clive and Joshua and he are to have her within their home.

Within their family.

It's a precarious situation, showing affection towards Jill. Questions and concerns swirl within his mind: what if he makes her uncomfortable? What if he crosses a line with her? His gaze lowers for a moment in contemplation, then he moves a hand behind her in order to gently squeeze her shoulder. It's a gesture of attempted reassurance that he oft offers to Joshua in particular, and it's a start, or so he would like to think. After all, the last thing he desires to do is ruin this moment, this rare opportunity to speak with Jill openly.

Elwin's smile only grows at her instructions, and the subsequent explanation. "I had no idea," he admits, voice unwavering in its youthful curiosity and interest. Full glad is he that the servants are so kind to her, aiding her with her beloved hobby. (And if they had been unkind instead, he would have had words with them over it.) There's a thoughtful hum, followed by a nod of consideration. All the while, he works on cutting the stems of the flowers to varying lengths, glancing over at her as he does for approval -- or further guidance should his handiwork need altering.

It's when the princess falls quiet that his hands pause again in their assigned task. With a slight tilt to his head, the Archduke glances down at her. "Please, continue. There is no need to hold back your thoughts -- and knowledge." As if to further encourage her, his smile broadens, almost to a grin -- eyes lighting up with an idea: "When we are able to visit Eastpool again, we can see if Lady Hanna will let you join her in tending to her flower garden. She, too, loves flowers, you know. I'm sure she would be more than happy to take you under her wing."

Memories of Eastpool come flooding back to him; of summers past, of adventures with Rodney and Byron, of poor Hanna patching them up every time they would return with one too many cuts and scrapes from their recklessness(which Elwin and Rodney usually led Byron into).

The inquiry is a fair one. There is no easy answer; the difficulty is worsened by the inkling that he and the Duchess are not of one mind in terms of Jill's future. Still, like most things the couple disagree upon, he is unwilling to back down from his position on the matter, and so he answers her honestly once more: "What becomes of you will be your choice."

Less of a statement, and more of a promise. Elwin's brow furrows deeper. The smile does not dwindle. Calloused fingers finally resume their duty. "You had no say in coming here, but when you are of age, should you choose to return to your family -- you have my word that I will see you arrive safely back into their arms."

There is a concern, however. How much does Jill know about her homeland's current state? Does she know how dire the spread of the Blight has become? Guilt mingles with shame, both at having not told her the full breadth of the situation himself as of yet, and at still being unable to find a solution to their plight.

But for now, best to enjoy this moment. There will be time to discuss that future once he and King Warrick know with more certainty that nothing can be done to halt the progression of the Blight.

"All I ask is that you remember that you have a home here as well, where you will always be welcome," the man adds, tone quieter now as he lays bare his most personal thoughts and feelings. A hint, perhaps, or a glimpse into his heart, where only the most trusted are able to glean. The flowers are, once again one by one, handed down to her. "I want a better future, for you and for the boys. Those are my plans for you, my girl. A better future." A better future than the lives you three have now, so full of war and strife and sorrow.

her eyes twinkle when they look to his. listening intently. thankful is she that this feeling... one so heavy... is not something she suffers from alone. someone such as powerful & large as the Archduke felt the same. a shaky breath releases. at some point she had scooted closer to him. resting her head gently along the side of his arm. it felt good releasing these thoughts to someone other than Clive. she always felt the Archduke himself could fix many problems, but he was never around as much as his wife, much to her dismay. moments like these were rare. she would not waste them. this would be a cherished memory, surely. such a conversation between them felt so natural. for once she did not feel like the burden others made her seem to be.

an image arises in her head of a young archduke with the chocobos. in her mind does she think of Clive with Ambrosia. there's a warm smile on lips. him & his father had much in common, even little things. she quite enjoyed listening to Clive read. she could do it herself, as she too enjoyed the escape that reading provided, but it was much more enjoyable when he would read to her. he became a performer. he brought the roles to life. gave different characters different voices. he was a bit ridiculous, but it brought her joy. ruined the idea of reading by herself. a tiny giggle slips at the image of his father doing the same, but for the chocobos instead.

❛ would you cut some of the stems to different sizes? that way I can weave them and make the entire crown full of flowers. ❜

she had learned the hard way that keeping the stems too long created too big of a crown & not very many flowers. a one of that size would work for him, but certainly not for her.

❛ some of the servants helped me learn how to preserve the flowers... did you know that there's a lot of ways? ❜ a smile forms, thinking to the flowers Clive had brought back to her from his travels that hung preserved on her walls. ❛ the first way is simply drying them and pressing them into something.. but I can't turn them into a crown if they're squished. the petals are too delicate. but I like to put them on display. once the crowns are done, they help me take them somewhere they can dry out. they're not as soft when they do that, but... they last as long as I care for them very delicately. ❜

a slight tint to cheeks appears as she'd rambled. she enjoyed learning new things, particularly about flowers. she found it incredible the things plants could do in general. there'd been times she watched the botanists create medicines, she wanted to ask if she could partake. but she was far too little & far too busy with etiquette classes. things she was wholly uninterested in. she had yet to be allowed to explore a passion... which would always make her wonder. so as she weaves the stems within each other, she can't help but ask.

❛ Clive and Joshua are always so busy now... but I am not... not with anything important. ❜ a frown. ❛ what will become of me, Your Grace? surely there are plans for me. I just do not know of them. ❜

that is what makes her feel so sick.

[f-dee]

Byron’s Birthday Date, preview, MidCinEng

Byron... my love...(≧◡≦) ♡  every moment I spend with you makes me love you even more 。.:☆*:･'(*⌒―⌒*))) you make me so happy! I love you truly, with all my heart! I just want to be with you forever! ( ˘⌣˘)♡(˘⌣˘ ) (/^-^(^ ^*)/ ♡

[maemelany]

Fixing The Broken Series (Prologue)

Masterlist 

Prologue, Part 1 , Part 2 

Author’s note: Guys! After reading sooooo many stories on Tumblr, I’ve decided to write one myself. It’s my first one, and I hope one of many more to come. I hope you like it. I thought about this one after realizing how short the break was before the filming of Infinity War and Endgame (Literally one month). I thought it must have been hard for all of them. And then it made me think how harder it could have been for Chris if he was married. So here it is, Fixing the Broken.

It’s a love story full of angst, very sad parts (because that’s my thing) but remember, it’s a love story. Here’s to the happy, the tragic and the tears (there will be a lot of tears) and I really hope you like it!

Summary:

People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worse.

You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.

Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?

Hope you enjoy! 

word count: 925

Absence, that common cure of love – Lord Byron

This time, you’ve had enough. You’ve been through everything with your husband, but this time you have to call it quits. As you pack your clothes in a big travelling bag, you realize you’re really doing it, you’re leaving your husband after five years of marriage.

It’s not that you don’t love Chris. You love him more than your whole life. When you said yes at the altar, you meant it. You said forever, and you meant it. But last night, as you were sipping your wine in front of another Netflix tv series you’ve started out of boredom, you’ve realized you never signed for this.

This being loneliness. When you got married in front of your families, you promised to be there for each other for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death do us part. The keyword here is to be there. How can you even respect your vows if you’re not present?

Of course, you knew you were getting married to one of the busiest actors in Hollywood, but frankly, you naively thought he would make some effort for you. Of course, you would never ask him to do that. Essentially for two reasons, first, you loved Chris too much to keep him from doing the thing that gives him the most joy. Your husband loves what he does. The way he gets excited about every project in which he’s involved. The light in his eyes when he talks about his characters, you would never take that away from him. Secondly, you wanted the decision to come from him. When you first met him, you bonded on your mutual love for Boston. Naively you thought that marriage would deepen his roots in the city, and he would prefer to stay here more.

Well, needless to say, that you couldn’t have been more wrong. You got married right before the beginning of the filming of Infinity War. It made you laugh when you realize you didn’t even have a proper honeymoon. Then there was the week you spent in Scotland because Chris thought it was a good idea for you to come since they were shooting some scenes there for the movie. You have always been something he scheduled between his busy life. He only wanted to spend time with you when it was convenient for him. When there was some spare time in his busy schedule.

The worst part was actually after Infinity War. You thought you would finally have time with your husband. A time you could both spend enjoying your early marriage days, but again you were wrong.

You had one month, and that was it. Before you could even blink, Chris was gone again to film End Game. Of course, That one month was amazing. The thing with Chris was that whenever he was near, you felt on top of the world. You loved him so deeply. Just him being there was more than enough. During the month between filming Infinity War and Endgame, you and Chris would spend days in bed, around the house playing with his nephews. You would watch them playing in the pool, Chris making them laugh. You imagined him doing the same with your own children, and the thought made your heart so full of joy.

But before you could blink, the bliss was already over. He was gone again. You tried to hold on that month. Every time you felt lonely, you would watch the videos of you both on your phones, but it wasn’t enough. As much as you wanted it to be enough, it just wasn’t. You also visited his family, spent time with Chris’ mother and sisters and children. Again, it was nice, comforting while it lasted, but not enough.

You needed your husband, and your husband was simply not there.

So, when after Endgame, when Chris got involved in more and more projects, it hit you.

It would never end. Chris will never stop being everywhere but with you. You would never be enough for the love of your life.

So, there you were, so tired you couldn’t even cry anymore. Honestly, you didn’t even have tears left to cry, as Ariana would say.

With your bag ready, you went downstairs. You were so grateful that Dodger was with your sister-in-law. You couldn’t bear your baby watching you leave. As you passed by the open living room, you saw the picture of you and Chris hanging on the wall, and your heart fell even further. You realized you were actually doing it. It took all the courage you had inside of you not to back down and call him. You knew that even the sound of Chris’s voice would make you want to stay.

But you also knew that you weren’t really making the decision. Chris made it a long time ago. He chose to be away; you were only respecting his choice now.

You close the entry door, and it felt like you were closing a huge chapter of your life: the happiest and yet most tragic one.

You meant it when you said forever. You really did. But forever cannot happen when the person you’re supposed to share it with is not here. There’s a reason the vows say till death do us apart. Death was supposed to be the only thing that could do us apart. Chris chose to not be here. Chris chose absence over love.

[joshuaorrizonte]

New Chapter Up!

The four of us waited in awkward silence after that. Valerie didn’t take long, and then we walked in awkward silence. When we arrived at the party, I spotted my son dancing with Sorrow, looking happier than I’d seen him in years. I didn’t want to intrude on that.

But Byron was already making his way across the dance floor. “Byron!” Circe called out after him, irritation in her voice. “Damn that boy…” she muttered, and took off in pursuit. I followed, Demeter close behind. Circe and Byron got to them first, and were already conversing when we got to them. “—to say to you, Gareth. Will you listen?” Circe asked.

The four of us waited in awkward silence after that. Valerie didn’t take long, and then we walked in awkward silence. When we arrived at the party, I spotted my son dancing with Sorrow, looking happier than I’d seen him in years. I didn’t want to intrude on that.

But Byron was already making his way across the dance floor. “Byron!” Circe called out after him, irritation in her voice. “Damn that boy…” she muttered, and took off in pursuit. I followed, Demeter close behind. Circe and Byron got to them first, and were already conversing when we got to them. “—to say to you, Gareth. Will you listen?” Circe asked.

Alex appeared at Gareth’s shoulder. “Anything Byron has to say to him,” Alex said, hostility simmering in his hazel eyes, “he can say with us present.” The next thing I knew, Anna stood behind Gareth as well, and Sorrow entwined her fingers in Gareth’s, and I was humbled. It appeared I was wrong about these kids after all.

And it wasn’t lost on Byron, either. His gaze flicked from one of them to the other, stuttering, before he said, “Gareth, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I got a taste of my own medicine at the juvenile home and I want to come home, but Drake says I can only do that if you say it’s okay. Please, please, please…”

Gareth looked at him, stunned. He hadn’t said a word yet. His gaze settled on me, and I shook my head. “It’s your decision. I want to talk to you later tonight, but you’re the one he assaulted. You get to decide if he’s allowed back in the house.”

My son swallowed hard, and said, almost too soft to be heard over the blaring music, “Alright. But if you start bullying me again, I want you out of my life forever.”

Byron’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you. I promise I’ve learned my lesson. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Alex said, “because if it does, you’ll answer to me , and I’ll be in a lot more trouble than you were for this, I promise you.”

“Alex,” Byron gasped, sounding hurt. It seemed he realized that all of his friends were now standing behind the kid he was used to bullying, and for a split second, his face twisted in rage. But it was only for a second before defeat crossed his features once more. “I understand, man. It won’t come to that. Promise. And I don’t want to not be friends with all of you. I see now that my behavior wasn’t okay. I’m going to change. I promise.”

None of his three friends looked convinced. But Gareth, although he seemed hesitant, held out a hand. “Apology accepted. I’d like to go back to how we were. I loved you like a brother once. I’d be nice to feel that again.”

Byron looked at Gareth’s hand, then back up at him, mistrustful. But he took it, and said, “Yeah. It would.”

[cappymightwrite]

What are your thoughts on Ned Stark ?

Hi!

I have conflicted feelings on Ned. Probably just below Stannis, he's the Westerosi man most in need of therapy, in my opinion. Actually, that's an interesting comparison — Ned and Stannis, which I know has been commented on before. They're alike in many ways, in terms of reserve etc., which makes the fact that Robert saw Ned as his true brother all the more painful to Stannis (though of course this is never explicitly stated). But anyway, back to Ned.

There's certain things I struggle with in regards to Ned, even though I understand the reasoning behind his actions, or rather, inaction. So, it makes thinking back on him in a wholly positive and fond light somewhat difficult, as I suppose it must be for Sansa in a way, as well as for Jon, once his parentage is revealed. I don't wholly dislike him though, I actually value him a lot, I just take issue with:

Him never apparently trusting Catelyn enough to be honest about Jon's parentage (+ the way he avoids telling Jon, to some extent)

No matter how loving they were... there is this unresolved (and now forever unresolved) barrier at the heart of their relationship, an unequal exchange of trust, which was within Ned's power to lift, to make fully mutual. But he didn't. Now, he had his reasons, self-sacrificing and seemingly honourable as they may appear, and certainly the narrative required this secret to be kept. But even so, in terms of how I regard his character? It rubs me the wrong way because he never gave her the opportunity to sympathise and fully understand him, he cut himself off from that. And yeah, maybe it might not have improved Jon's situation all that much, but he never gave Cat the opportunity to think of him differently, in a way that wasn't dictated by the social mores of their world:

It had taken her a fortnight to marshal her courage, but finally, in bed one night, Catelyn had asked her husband the truth of it, asked him to his face.

That was the only time in all their years that Ned had ever frightened her. "Never ask me about Jon," he said, cold as ice. "He is my blood, and that is all you need to know. And now I will learn where you heard that name, my lady." She had pledged to obey; she told him; and from that day on, the whispering had stopped, and Ashara Dayne's name was never heard in Winterfell again.

Whoever Jon's mother had been, Ned must have loved her fiercely, for nothing Catelyn said would persuade him to send the boy away. It was the one thing she could never forgive him. She had come to love her husband with all her heart, but she had never found it in her to love Jon. She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned's sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him. Somehow that made it worse. – AGOT, Catelyn II

"It was the one thing she could never forgive him" — yeah, me too honey! Ok, sure, we don't know for sure if Cat might have "overlooked" Jon's uneasy place in their household "for Ned's sake", if she knew he was actually her nephew — the world would still believe him to be Ned's, so to outward appearances the awkwardness is still there. And yeah, we don't know if she could have "found it in her to love Jon", but the truth certainly would have made it far more likely! But Ned decided that it had to be this way, that only he could participate in carrying this secret. So, I hurt for Cat AND Jon really.

I get why he doesn't tell Jon the truth. I understand his warped logic, how the trauma of his past informs this sort of self-punishing mentality of I must keep this honourable promise made of love till the day I die even though to the outside world it will appear as a stain upon that very honour... and to punish myself further for failing Lyanna I will never unburden myself to anyone, this is my cross to bear alone. I understand that, it's very manpain-y. But the problem is... it doesn't just punish Ned, it punishes Cat and Jon, and his other children too! Because they are by no means blind to this elephant in the room of their parent's marriage, and it's hard to rationalise:

He looked at her uncomfortably. "My aunt Allyria says Lady Ashara and your father fell in love at Harrenhal—"

"That's not so. He loved my lady mother." – ASOS, Arya VIII

Your father loved your mother, but he also had a child with another woman, whose identity he would never talk about. Your father loved your mother, but his dedication to this secret ultimately trumped being fully honest and open with her. It's hard not to feel that Ned's present came second to making up for the "sins" of his past. This is why he desperately needed therapy, lol, because (to take a line from my Byronic Hero meta) Ned's "traumatic past informs his present life," and to the detriment of that present life and those present relationships as well. But hey, that's the tragedy.

Also, I think his whole I'll tell you the truth when I next see you to Jon is really sketchy, because when exactly might that be, Ned? An avoidance tactic if I ever saw one. But really, I don't think he'd be emotionally equipped to have that conversation anyway... he might have said he'd tell him someday, but deep down, I'm sure he hoped he may never have to. And then he conveniently dies, taking the secret with him (or so we think)!

Allowing the death of Lady

Bran's wolf had saved the boy's life, he thought dully. What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa's, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done? – AGOT, Eddard IV

"And for what?" Yes, quite. I don't really have much to say on this... I think this passage speaks for itself. There's probably some other things I could talk about, but those are my main two gripes.

That being said... what I value about Ned are his words of wisdom

The thing about Ned, for me, is that despite the unmaliciously meant pain he inflicts on his loved ones (which I do understand the reasoning behind, the trauma that informs it etc)... he's still ultimately a figure of hope to me, a notably flawed, but no less significant, ideal within the narrative too. And I think you need that — we need the memory of Ned as readers, and so do the Starklings. So, I love him more for what he represents, rather than his parenting and lacklustre husbanding skills. I value the fundamental truths he emphasises through his words, and the legacy of those words, embodied within his children.

For example:

"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm. Septa Mordane is a good woman, and Sansa… Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you… and I need both of you, gods help me." – AGOT, Arya II

Honestly, people can "squabble" about which Stark sibling is more important, more this, more that, till the cows come home. But that's what it is... "squabbles", and it misses the mark completely about why the Starks are the heart of the series. They are the Starks, plural. They may be different from one another, but they are "pack", and come winter, (TWOW, to be exact), once reunited they will "protect one another, keep each other warm, share [their] strengths", because those are the values Ned taught them.

These are the things to remember, despite all the hellishness. This is why Ned's death wasn't in vain, it wasn't an edgy twist, or the first whiff of grimdark... because his legacy didn't end with him, it lives on, it is felt throughout the series, right up until the most recent book:

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true… but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.'" – ADWD, Davos I

I love this line so much, and I love that it comes from Ned, that just as we are gearing up to head into the darkest parts of the series (because Winds is apparently going to be very dark)... we have this light, this hope, this "what if we prevail?" And it's connected to this repeated refrain about the certainty of winter — "in this world only winter is certain" vs. "winter is coming" — which is closely tied to Ned as a character. So, yes, "winter is coming", but don't be decieved into thinking that that spells disaster, that no warmth can be found, for there is always darkness before the dawn, just as there is always a winter before the spring... and in the winter the wolves shall "keep each other warm", they will "prevail."

In conclusion

Whatever his flaws and mistakes, and there are several, at the end of the day... I will love Ned for giving us hope, for reminding the readers, and characters, of what is really important — to take strength from your loved ones, to give them strength in return, and to not give into despair, no matter how harshly the snows might fall and white winds blow. Yes, it's not certain whether they'll live, but likewise, it's not certain whether they'll die either... and that's where you find the hope, the light against the grim dark.

So, for me, he's a character who makes my heart sink, but then he makes it swell again. That's the duality, and it's a choice which you put most stock in... I'll choose the hope he inspires every time ;)

[nellygwyn]

BOOK RECS

Okay, so lots of people wanted this and so, I am compiling a list of my favourite books (both fiction and non-fiction), books that I recommend you read as soon as humanly possible. In the meantime, I’ll be pinning this post to the top of my blog (once I work out how to do that lmao) so it will be accessible for old and new followers. I’m going to order this list thematically, I think, just to keep everything tidy and orderly. Of course, a lot of this list will consist of historical fiction and historical non-fiction because that’s what I read primarily and thus, that’s where my bias is, but I promise to try and spice it up just a little bit. 

Favourite fiction books of all time:

The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock // Imogen Hermes Gowar

Sense and Sensibility // Jane Austen

Slammerkin // Emma Donoghue 

Remarkable Creatures // Tracy Chevalier

Life Mask // Emma Donoghue

His Dark Materials // Philip Pullman (this includes the follow-up series The Book of Dust)

Emma // Jane Austen

The Miniaturist // Jessie Burton

Girl, Woman, Other // Bernadine Evaristo 

Jane Eyre // Charlotte Brontë

Persuasion // Jane Austen

Girl with a Pearl Earring // Tracy Chevalier

The Silent Companions // Laura Purcell

Tess of the d’Urbervilles // Thomas Hardy

Northanger Abbey // Jane Austen

The Chronicles of Narnia // C.S. Lewis

Pride and Prejudice // Jane Austen

Goodnight, Mr Tom // Michelle Magorian

The French Lieutenant’s Woman // John Fowles 

The Butcher’s Hook // Janet Ellis 

Mansfield Park // Jane Austen

The All Souls Trilogy // Deborah Harkness

The Railway Children // Edith Nesbit

Favourite non-fiction books of all time

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman // Robert Massie

Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King // Antonia Fraser

Madame de Pompadour // Nancy Mitford

The First Iron Lady: A Life of Caroline of Ansbach // Matthew Dennison 

Black and British: A Forgotten History // David Olusoga

Courtiers: The Secret History of the Georgian Court // Lucy Worsley 

Young and Damned and Fair: The Life of Katherine Howard, the Fifth Wife of Henry VIII // Gareth Russell

King Charles II // Antonia Fraser

Casanova’s Women // Judith Summers

Marie Antoinette: The Journey // Antonia Fraser

Mrs. Jordan’s Profession: The Story of a Great Actress and a Future King // Claire Tomalin

Jane Austen at Home // Lucy Worsley

Mudlarking: Lost and Found on the River Thames // Lara Maiklem

The Last Royal Rebel: The Life and Death of James, Duke of Monmouth // Anna Keay

The Marlboroughs: John and Sarah Churchill // Christopher Hibbert

Nell Gwynn: A Biography // Charles Beauclerk

Jurassic Mary: Mary Anning and the Primeval Monsters // Patricia Pierce

Georgian London: Into the Streets // Lucy Inglis

The Prince Who Would Be King: The Life and Death of Henry Stuart // Sarah Fraser

Wedlock: How Georgian Britain’s Worst Husband Met His Match // Wendy Moore

Dead Famous: An Unexpected History of Celebrity from the Stone Age to the Silver Screen // Greg Jenner

Victorians Undone: Tales of the Flesh in the Age of Decorum // Kathryn Hughes

Crown of Blood: The Deadly Inheritance of Lady Jane Grey // Nicola Tallis

Favourite books about the history of sex and/or sex work

The Origins of Sex: A History of First Sexual Revolution // Faramerz Dabhoiwala 

Erotic Exchanges: The World of Elite Prostitution in Eighteenth-Century Paris // Nina Kushner

Peg Plunkett: Memoirs of a Whore // Julie Peakman

Courtesans // Katie Hickman

The Other Victorians: A Study of Sexuality and Pornography in mid-Nineteenth Century England

Madams, Bawds, and Brothel Keepers // Fergus Linnane

The Secret History of Georgian London: How the Wages of Sin Shaped the Capital // Dan Cruickshank 

A Curious History of Sex // Kate Lister

Sex and Punishment: 4000 Years of Judging Desire // Eric Berkowitz

Queen of the Courtesans: Fanny Murray // Barbara White

Rent Boys: A History from Ancient Times to Present // Michael Hone

Celeste // Roland Perry

Sex and the Gender Revolution // Randolph Trumbach

The Pleasure’s All Mine: A History of Perverse Sex // Julie Peakman

LGBT+ fiction I love*

The Confessions of the Fox // Jordy Rosenberg 

As Meat Loves Salt // Maria Mccann

Bone China // Laura Purcell

Brideshead Revisited // Evelyn Waugh

The Confessions of Frannie Langton // Sara Collins

The Intoxicating Mr Lavelle // Neil Blackmore

Orlando // Virginia Woolf

Tipping the Velvet // Sarah Waters

She Rises // Kate Worsley

The Mercies // Kiran Millwood Hargrave

Oranges are Not the Only Fruit // Jeanette Winterson

Maurice // E.M Forster

Frankisstein: A Love Story // Jeanette Winterson

If I Was Your Girl // Meredith Russo 

The Well of Loneliness // Radclyffe Hall 

* fyi, Life Mask and Girl, Woman, Other are also LGBT+ fiction

Classics I haven’t already mentioned (including children’s classics)

Far From the Madding Crowd // Thomas Hardy 

I Capture the Castle // Dodie Smith 

Vanity Fair // William Makepeace Thackeray 

Wuthering Heights // Emily Brontë

The Blazing World // Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle

Murder on the Orient Express // Agatha Christie 

Great Expectations // Charles Dickens

North and South // Elizabeth Gaskell

Evelina // Frances Burney

Death on the Nile // Agatha Christie

The Monk // Matthew Lewis

Frankenstein // Mary Shelley

Vilette // Charlotte Brontë

The Mayor of Casterbridge // Thomas Hardy

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall // Anne Brontë

Vile Bodies // Evelyn Waugh

Beloved // Toni Morrison 

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd // Agatha Christie

The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling // Henry Fielding

A Room With a View // E.M. Forster

Silas Marner // George Eliot 

Jude the Obscure // Thomas Hardy

My Man Jeeves // P.G. Wodehouse

Lady Audley’s Secret // Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Middlemarch // George Eliot

Little Women // Louisa May Alcott

Children of the New Forest // Frederick Marryat

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings // Maya Angelou 

Rebecca // Daphne du Maurier

Alice in Wonderland // Lewis Carroll

The Wind in the Willows // Kenneth Grahame

Anna Karenina // Leo Tolstoy

Howard’s End // E.M. Forster

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4 // Sue Townsend

Even more fiction recommendations

The Darling Strumpet // Gillian Bagwell

The Wolf Hall trilogy // Hilary Mantel

The Illumination of Ursula Flight // Anne-Marie Crowhurst

Queenie // Candace Carty-Williams

Forever Amber // Kathleen Winsor

The Corset // Laura Purcell

Love in Colour // Bolu Babalola

Artemisia // Alexandra Lapierre

Blackberry and Wild Rose // Sonia Velton

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories // Angela Carter

The Languedoc trilogy // Kate Mosse

Longbourn // Jo Baker

A Skinful of Shadows // Frances Hardinge

The Black Moth // Georgette Heyer

The Far Pavilions // M.M Kaye

The Essex Serpent // Sarah Perry

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo // Taylor Jenkins Reid

Cavalier Queen // Fiona Mountain 

The Winter Palace // Eva Stachniak

Friday’s Child // Georgette Heyer

Falling Angels // Tracy Chevalier

Little // Edward Carey

Chocolat // Joanne Harris 

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street // Natasha Pulley 

My Sister, the Serial Killer // Oyinkan Braithwaite

The Convenient Marriage // Georgette Heyer

Katie Mulholland // Catherine Cookson

Restoration // Rose Tremain

Meat Market // Juno Dawson

Lady on the Coin // Margaret Campbell Bowes

In the Company of the Courtesan // Sarah Dunant

The Crimson Petal and the White // Michel Faber

A Place of Greater Safety // Hilary Mantel 

The Little Shop of Found Things // Paula Brackston

The Improbability of Love // Hannah Rothschild

The Murder Most Unladylike series // Robin Stevens

Dark Angels // Karleen Koen

The Words in My Hand // Guinevere Glasfurd

Time’s Convert // Deborah Harkness

The Collector // John Fowles

Vivaldi’s Virgins // Barbara Quick

The Foundling // Stacey Halls

The Phantom Tree // Nicola Cornick

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle // Stuart Turton

Golden Hill // Francis Spufford

Assorted non-fiction not yet mentioned

The Dinosaur Hunters: A True Story of Scientific Rivalry and the Discovery of the Prehistoric World // Deborah Cadbury

The Beauty and the Terror: An Alternative History to the Italian Renaissance // Catherine Fletcher

All the King's Women: Love, Sex, and Politics in the life of Charles II // Derek Jackson

Mozart’s Women // Jane Glover

Scandalous Liaisons: Charles II and His Court // R.E. Pritchard

Matilda: Queen, Empress, Warrior // Catherine Hanley 

Black Tudors // Miranda Kaufman 

To Catch a King: Charles II's Great Escape // Charles Spencer

1666: Plague, War and Hellfire // Rebecca Rideal

Henrietta Maria: Charles I's Indomitable Queen // Alison Plowden

Catherine of Braganza: Charles II's Restoration Queen // Sarah-Beth Watkins

Four Sisters: The Lost Lives of the Romanov Grand Duchesses // Helen Rappaport

Aristocrats: Caroline, Emily, Louisa and Sarah Lennox, 1740-1832 // Stella Tillyard 

The Fortunes of Francis Barber: The True Story of the Jamaican Slave who Became Samuel Johnson’s Heir // Michael Bundock

Black London: Life Before Emancipation // Gretchen Gerzina

In These Times: Living in Britain Through Napoleon’s Wars, 1793-1815

The King’s Mistress: Scandal, Intrigue and the True Story of the Woman who Stole the Heart of George I // Claudia Gold

Perdita: The Life of Mary Robinson // Paula Byrne

The Gentleman’s Daughter: Women’s Lives in Georgian England // Amanda Vickery

Terms and Conditions: Life in Girls’ Boarding School, 1939-1979 // Ysenda Maxtone Graham 

Fanny Burney: A Biography // Claire Harman

Aphra Behn: A Secret Life // Janet Todd

The Imperial Harem: Women and the Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire // Leslie Peirce

The Fall of the House of Byron // Emily Brand

The Favourite: Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough // Ophelia Field

Night-Walking: A Nocturnal History of London // Matthew Beaumont, Will Self

Jane Austen: A Life // Claire Tomalin

Beloved Emma: The Life of Emma, Lady Hamilton // Flora Fraser

Sentimental Murder: Love and Madness in the 18th Century // John Brewer

Henrietta Howard: King’s Mistress, Queen’s Servant // Tracy Borman

City of Beasts: How Animals Shaped Georgian London // Tom Almeroth-Williams

Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion // Anne Somerset 

Charlotte Brontë: A Life // Claire Harman 

Goddess: The Secret Lives of Marilyn Monroe // Anthony Summers

Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day // Peter Ackroyd 

Elizabeth I and Her Circle // Susan Doran

African Europeans: An Untold History // Olivette Otele 

Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron, and Other Tangled Lives // Daisy Hay

How to Create the Perfect Wife // Wendy Moore

The Sphinx: The Life of Gladys Deacon, Duchess of Marlborough // Hugo Vickers

The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn // Eric Ives

Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy // Barbara Ehrenreich

A is for Arsenic: The Poisons of Agatha Christie // Kathryn Harkup 

Mistresses: Sex and Scandal at the Court of Charles II // Linda Porter

Female Husbands: A Trans History // Jen Manion

Ladies in Waiting: From the Tudors to the Present Day // Anne Somerset

Ghostland: In Search of a Haunted Country // Edward Parnell 

A Cheesemonger’s History of the British Isles // Ned Palmer

The Butchering Art: Joseph Lister’s Quest to Transform the Grisly World of Victorian Medicine // Lindsey Fitzharris

Medieval Woman: Village Life in the Middle Ages // Ann Baer

The Husband Hunters: Social Climbing in London and New York // Anne de Courcy

The Voices of Nîmes: Women, Sex, and Marriage in Reformation Languedoc // Suzannah Lipscomb

The Daughters of the Winter Queen // Nancy Goldstone

Mad and Bad: Real Heroines of the Regency // Bea Koch

Bess of Hardwick // Mary S. Lovell

The Royal Art of Poison // Eleanor Herman 

The Strangest Family: The Private Lives of George III, Queen Charlotte, and the Hanoverians // Janice Hadlow

Palaces of Pleasure: From Music Halls to the Seaside to Football; How the Victorians Invented Mass Entertainment // Lee Jackson

Favourite books about current social/political issues (?? for lack of a better term)

Feminism, Interrupted: Disrupting Power // Lola Olufemi

Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Worker Rights // Molly Smith, Juno Mac

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race // Reni Eddo-Lodge

Trans Britain: Our Journey from the Shadows // Christine Burns

Me, Not You: The Trouble with Mainstream Feminism // Alison Phipps

Trans Like Me: A Journey For All Of Us // C.N Lester

Brit(Ish): On Race, Identity, and Belonging // Afua Hirsch 

The Brutish Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence, and Cultural Restitution // Dan Hicks

Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls: A Handbook for Unapologetic Living // Jes M. Baker

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women White Feminists Forgot // Mikki Kendall

Denial: Holocaust History on Trial // Deborah Lipstadt

Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape // Jessica Valenti, Jaclyn Friedman

Don’t Touch My Hair // Emma Dabiri

Sister Outsider // Audre Lorde 

Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen // Amrou Al-Kadhi

Trans Power // Juno Roche

Breathe: A Letter to My Sons // Imani Perry

The Windrush Betrayal: Exposing the Hostile Environment // Amelia Gentleman

Happy Fat: Taking Up Space in a World That Wants to Shrink You // Sofie Hagen

Diaries, memoirs & letters

The Diary of a Young Girl // Anne Frank

Renia’s Diary: A Young Girl’s Life in the Shadow of the Holocaust // Renia Spiegel 

Writing Home // Alan Bennett

The Diary of Samuel Pepys // Samuel Pepys

Histoire de Ma Vie // Giacomo Casanova

Toast: The Story of a Boy’s Hunger // Nigel Slater

London Journal, 1762-1763 // James Boswell

The Diary of a Bookseller // Shaun Blythell 

Jane Austen’s Letters // edited by Deidre la Faye

H is for Hawk // Helen Mcdonald 

The Salt Path // Raynor Winn

The Glitter and the Gold // Consuelo Vanderbilt, Duchess of Marlborough

Journals and Letters // Fanny Burney

Educated // Tara Westover

Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading // Lucy Mangan

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? // Jeanette Winterson

A Dutiful Boy // Mohsin Zaidi

Secrets and Lies: The Trials of Christine Keeler // Christine Keeler

800 Years of Women’s Letters // edited by Olga Kenyon

Istanbul // Orhan Pamuk

Henry and June // Anaïs Nin

Historical romance (this is a short list because I’m still fairly new to this genre)

The Bridgerton series // Julia Quinn

One Good Earl Deserves a Lover // Sarah Mclean

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake // Sarah Mclean

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics // Olivia Waite

That Could Be Enough // Alyssa Cole

Unveiled // Courtney Milan

The Craft of Love // EE Ottoman

The Maiden Lane series // Elizabeth Hoyt

An Extraordinary Union // Alyssa Cole

Slightly Dangerous // Mary Balogh

Dangerous Alliance: An Austentacious Romance // Jennieke Cohen

A Fashionable Indulgence // KJ Charles

[godzilla-reads]

Tag Yourself- Quotes by Random Authors

“I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.” (Langston Hughes)

I love not man the less, but Nature more. (Lord Byron)

If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive. (Audre Lorde)

Blame has no face. I have walked on its staircase, around and around, trying to slap its face but only hitting my own cheeks. (Victoria Chang)

I was in love with the whole world and all that lived in its rainy arms. (Louise Erdrich)

We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream. (Peter S. Beagle)

“I believe that all children should be surrounded by books and animals.” (Gerald Durrell)

“Is that why you stare at the stars?” he asked. “Are you searching for beauty or dreaming with your eyes wide open?” (Silvia Moreno-Garcia)

Then you must teach my daughter this same lesson. How to lose your innocence but not your hope. How to laugh forever. (Amy Tan)

I am writing to reach you—even if each word I put down is one word further from where you are. (Ocean Vuong)

I release you, my beautiful and terrible fear. I release you. You were my beloved and hate twin, but now, I don't know you as myself. (Joy Harjo)

Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. (Mary Shelley)

I made myself a promise: Even if it meant becoming a stranger to my loved ones, even if it meant keeping secrets, I would have a life of my own. (Saeed Jones)

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE SECOND WAR BEGINS

Harry couldn't really look Remus in the face when he gave the book a gentle toss to him. He was sure it meant something he was even still around after all this, but Harry really had not a clue what, it couldn't be him. 

Entitled He Who Must Not Be Named Returns, it starts with a statement from the Minister confirming this to be true, he was active in their country once more.

"Miracles do happen!" James mock cheered.

"James I would not refer to any of this as miraculous," Lily grumbled.

"No, not the part about- you know what I meant Lily," he huffed.

"Oh, you're reading a paper," Sirius quickly grasped while still laughing at the two.

"Hermione was," Harry corrected, the memory easily swimming to the surface, honestly grateful that something could flow back to him naturally.

It was with great regret that he confirmed Lord, well you know who he meant,

"Lord Byron?" Remus politely offered.

was alive, as well as the dementors had deserted Azkaban and joined Lord, Thingy.

Five collective snorts of laughter. It seemed impossible after all they'd heard, but honestly with that alone Fudge pulled a genuine smile of amusement from all of them, though it was perhaps tainted at the implausibility of this taking so long to post this, a year later.

  The magical community was urged to remain vigilant, the Ministry was doing all they could to make people aware and pamphlets would be sent to their homes in the coming months of how to prepare.

The smile slipped right back off for the four from this time, they didn't appreciate the reminder considering they got those once a week it felt like.

The Minister's statement was met with dismay from the wizarding community, considering as recently as last week he'd just been assuring none of this to be true.

"I've been wanting them to eat their words, and yet it's not anywhere near as satisfying as I'd have hoped," Harry grumbled.

Details leading to this event were still murky, but apparently He Who Must Not Be Named himself and a group of Death Eaters had penetrated the Ministry of Magic Thursday evening and been witnessed.

Albus Dumbledore has yet been available for commentary, though it was he who had been insisting since last June of these events occurring. Meanwhile, the Boy Who Lived-

Hermione interrupted herself to exclaim there was Harry's name, she knew he'd be dragged into this while looking at him over her paper.

"Aren't I always?" Harry grudgingly agreed with Hermione now as he had then.

"Haven't heard you called that in a while," James grumbled, "it was kind of nice."

"I'll still take that over what they were calling him," Lily huffed.

They were in the Hospital Wing, Hermione reading her article of the Sunday Prophet to the five around her while still in bed. Neville and Ginny's injuries had been healed instantly, but continued to visit frequently as they were now, and Luna was sitting to the side apparently ignoring them all with a new copy of the Quibbler.

Ron was still in bed rest as well and glared from his to hers saying it was high time they switched back from thinking him a deluded show off.

"Where on earth will they find their source of entertainment now," Sirius said deadpan.

He helped himself to another Chocolate Frog, the scars on his arm still visible from where the brain had latched on. Madam Pomfrey had warned they may never fade, but with a solution she'd been applying, they'd been improving.

"I'm just happy he's not acting like Sirius anymore," Remus offered.

"When do I ever act like a loopy fool?" Sirius demanded.

"As much," Remus finished as if he hadn't been interrupted.

Hermione agreed they were far more complimentary of him now, quoting such thing as his lone voice of truth against slander, though they seemed to have failed to mention it was them doing the slandering.

James's eyes went mock wide in surprise, putting his hand against his cheek with his mouth open slightly as the picture of shock.

"They would never do such a thing, oh wait," Lily briskly agreed.

She winced slightly and placed her hand upon her ribs. The curse Dolohov had set on her may have been less effective silent, but in Madam Pomfrey's own words, it was quite enough damage to be going on with. Hermione was having to take ten potions a day to heal,

Harry gulped and still fidgeted heavily. He in no way wished to ever hear of that spell again, but he had the nasty feeling it wasn't the last time Dolohov used such a thing, and next time it may not be so nonverbal...but then the hateful pain returned, and Harry still knew it wasn't over. Even if some part of him larger than ever wanted to quit now before he had to ever feel what he was again for what he'd lost that day, his mind would permanently suffer for it.

but she was improving greatly, and already bored with the hospital wing.

She continued reading snippets of all the pages full of information now, even one where they'd apparently gotten an Exclusive Interview with Harry, but then noted it was just the old article from the Quibbler.

Sirius got a hearty snort for that, somehow his disgust for that rubbish increasing even when they were back to publishing sense.

Luna agreed her father had sold that to him, he'd gained quite a lot of money for it, and they were going on vacation this summer to try and find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"Good for her," Remus said honestly.

Hermione struggled for a moment before simply saying it sounded lovely.

Harry and Ginny caught eyes and quickly looked away from each other grinning.

Harry almost got a smile back in place, more warmth than they'd seen in his expression since he'd come back from the Ministry. Sharing a joke like that really could do wonders.

Hermione changed topics by asking that the school was back to normal?

Ginny agreed Flitwick had ridden the school of the twins swamp

James gasped, all of the boys looking scandalized such a thing had been done while Lily rolled her eyes at them. "Honestly, did you want it up forever? Having to get through a swamp just to attend classes?"

"Yes," was their instant response, and she rolled her eyes again to try and hide a twitching smile.

in three seconds, but he'd left a tiny patch under a bit of window he'd roped off.

"Oh, well that's okay then," Sirius' shoulders were still slumped in a bit of disappointment, but at least there had been a mark left.

When Hermione asked why, she said he'd said it was too good a bit of magic.

"At least we can still say we love Flitwick," Remus chuckled.

Ron agreed through a mouthful of frog he'd left it as a monument to Fred and George.

"And that's exactly what any proper man would do," James smirked.

Informing Harry it was his brothers who'd sent the pile of sweets on his bedside.

"Aww," Lily cooed.

"I can see where Ron gets this idea to share food to make others feel better," Sirius chuckled, "I think it's what the twins do."

"Well they did try to share a toilet seat, so I wouldn't put it past them," Remus snickered.

Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked,

Harry glanced around, but not one of them made a snippy comment for Hermione's disapproval again. They were still reeling from their harsh reactions to her, to what she'd been saying and it turning out to be true...and they didn't know what to feel about her now.

if all of the trouble was gone now Dumbledore was back.

Neville agreed the school was right back to normal.

"I'd almost be depressed if I wasn't so relieved," James sighed.

Ron made the comment Filch must be happy about that while propping up a Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card against his water jug.

James scoffed deeply in disgust for that, he knew how he felt about that one!

Remus' voice held an edge as well none had ever heard before when speaking of him, but Remus kept going trying to ignore it himself.

Ginny promised he was miserable, saying she'd been the best thing to ever happen to this school.

All five of them looked more than sour for that being said, they honestly wished Filch would be thrown out when Umbridge left as well for what he tried to do to those students, but if they'd had their way, Snape would have long since left as well.

All six of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling.

"I can not believe you're even in the same room with, with that-" Lily was so angry her words spluttered off in disgust. That cat litter should be in Azkaban for what she nearly did to Harry!

"Neither can I," James quirked a brow in surprise even as he was frowning in disappointment. "How on earth did the centaurs give her up? I was hoping her body would just never be found again!"

Dumbledore had strode alone into the Forest to rescue her from the centaurs; how he had done it - how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him - nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling.

Remus muttered something shrewdly as he eyed that. He tried to find the awe and fascination from his youth at the entity that was Dumbledore, how he truly seemed able to do anything, but it was still overshadowed by everything he'd done to Harry's life. It was much easier to focus on the idea of why he'd bothered, and he got no more answer for that.

Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.

"Oh right, about that," Sirius gave a dramatic pause, taking a deep breath, before being just one tone away from shouting, "how dare she do that to you! If you hadn't f'ing known how to do the Patronus charm thanks to Remus, you'd be worse than dead! I swear if I don't hear of that wretched thing getting Kissed herself, I'm going to have to find some other way to suck out her soul!"

"Been holding that one in long?" Harry asked mock pleasantly.

"A bit, yeah," Sirius agreed. "Glad you gave me the chance to bring it up again."

Hermione said Pomfrey told she was in shock.

"Madam Pomfrey should be using shocks," Lily huffed.

Sulking more like, Ginny corrected.

James made a little noise that may have been a mocking laugh.

Ron said she did something when you did this, and he began clip-clopping his tongue softly in a mockery of hooves.

All five burst into righteous laughter, but there wasn't a trace of humor to be found. Honestly they just wanted to applaud Ron for finally giving this moment.

Umbridge sat up at once, her mousy hair wild.

Pomfrey stuck her head out at once, asking if everything was alright?

Once Umbridge had looked all around and seen nothing, she sank back onto her seat, uttering it must have been a dream.

"More like a nightmare," Remus corrected in the most pleasant tone he'd ever used when speaking of her.

Hermione asked if Firenze was still teaching divination now that Trelawney was back?

Harry said both were now teaching instead.

"Of all the classes to get two separate teacher's in," Sirius muttered, ignoring the harsh thump that was his innards at the reminder of her.

Ron said he was sure Dumbledore now wished he'd gotten rid of Trelawney when he'd had the chance while going for his fourteenth Frog.

"That suddenly made a bit more sense," Sirius said restlessly.

"Can't have just been Dumbledore doing a decent thing, standing up to Umbridge and not letting her leave," Lily said, all wistfulness gone of anyone just doing a kind act anymore.

"Oh no," James agreed, "he was keeping her away from Voldemort." He tried to end with a smile for her, knowing what that downturn of Lily's lips were, and she did feel just a bit better that even with an ulterior motive she wasn't the only one trying to find the kindness in all this.

Though Ron still found the whole subject useless, as Firenze wasn't much better.

Hermione demanded how he could say that, now that they knew prophecies were real.

"Doesn't make the idiots delivering them any better." Sirius honestly having the urge to go find that room and smash every one of those things now, regretting ever even hearing about them for all the trouble they'd caused his family!

Harry's heart began to race. He had not told Ron, Hermione or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Neville had told them it had smashed while Harry was pulling him up the steps in the Death Room and Harry had not yet corrected this impression.

"I don't see why," James said haughtily. "You need a good laugh, and you're friends will do a better job than anyone telling you how ridiculous it all sounds."

"Now you're encouraging Hermione are you?" Harry asked dully.

James frowned in concern, they all did as Harry refused to shake this off in here like they were trying to give him a way to do, and for his careless tone alone James chose not to respond in hopes changing the subject would just be better.

He was not ready to see their expressions when he told them that he must be either murderer or victim, there was no other way . . .

Even as the others still looked murderous at Dumbledore putting that on Harry, wanting to blame their old headmaster and everyone else for continuing to try and force Harry down a path just because of some stupid mystics, Harry couldn't help but brush absently at his scar for the first time since he'd been here, because it wasn't the one on his forehead. None of them seemed to notice a thing. He wished he could believe same as them, that there was some other way, some alternative to this terrible fate laid out for him, but it all felt so inevitable...

Hermione kept going with the conversation, saying what a pity it was it broke.

Ron agreed, but found the good side was at least You-Know-Who couldn't hear it anymore either- then asked where Harry was going with disappointment.

Harry said he was going down to Hagrid's, he'd gotten back today and he'd want to know how they were doing.

"Hagrid's back!" Sirius cheered unnecessarily loudly, but Harry hardly reacted, just the briefest little smile for the enthusiasm before his face settled back into that mask of unease.

Ron gave the grumpy agreement before wishing he could come.

Remus made an unconscious sympathetic noise, knowing that feeling all to well.

Hermione told him to say hello for them, and to make sure to ask about his, little friend.

"I presume she's referring to Grawp," Remus said with an honest twitch of his lips.

"Don't know why she needed to phrase it like that," Sirius sighed, "I think the others around you can know about him by now." He was still watching Harry with worry. He may be clinging to Sirius in a whole new way, though now they understood why as he just seemed to be marveling at still being able to do so, but it almost seemed to hurt him now just to look at his godfather.

"Umbridge is in there, and even in shock, it's best not to go sharing what Hagrid gets up to right now," James unnecessarily reminded, Sirius had been well aware, they were both just trying to keep up some normal flow of conversation no matter how ineffective.

He was finding it hard to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not; whenever he was in company he wanted to get away and whenever he was alone he wanted company.

Harry was torn from his own thoughts to watch those shift around him uncomfortably, and quickly said, "No, I'm not..." but he trailed off, unable to put into words what it meant to have them all around him now. He didn't want that now, but it didn't quite erase the feeling now residing in him.

The feeling of isolation he'd carried while being around his friends carried through in here, helped along nothing by their unwillingness to see what he saw, feel how true it was he must kill Voldemort. If they didn't understand that though, if they honestly thought there must be another way...

When Harry failed to give a real answer but instead was clearly struggling with something, Remus just decided to keep going. He wouldn't force a real answer out of him, but he wouldn't stop him either if he needed a minute to himself, but until he stepped out this was all they could really do.

He only made it to the Entrance Hall when he ran into Malfoy and his friends coming up from the Slytherin dormitories.

The instant they caught sight of each other, Malfoy at once declared Harry as dead.

Harry said that was funny, since if it were true he'd have stopped walking around.

James managed an authentic laugh again, telling Harry, "there's that sense of humor I so love."

Harry tried for the same smile back, but it still sat just a touch awkwardly in his face to be believable.

Malfoy ignored the jab and said Potter would pay for what he'd done to his father.

"Will he still have to hear about it then to?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

James couldn't even offer that much, whatever Malfoy was suffering was only a tenth of what Harry had already learned to suffer through.

Harry sarcastically told he was terrified now, Voldemort must have just been a warm up compared to these three.

All of them were laughing obligingly now, though Harry's frown just deepened with some unknown concern, all he knew was he didn't like dismissing Malfoy right now.

Malfoy just snapped Potter thought himself such a big man, he couldn't just land his father in prison!

Harry reminded he just had.

Remus couldn't help the surprised burst of laughter that shot out, it really was like watching James and Snape the way these two went at each other so many years later with the names just swapped.

Malfoy still vowed Azkaban wouldn't hold him with the dementors gone, and while Harry agreed, he still pointed out at least everyone knew what scumbags they were now.

Sirius tried for a triumphant little smirk, but it was no good, the mention of that place just brought the echo of his own words back. He really hadn't been given his chance to accept that worthless Ministry's apologies now that they were listening to Harry...

Malfoy went for his wand, but Harry had already beaten him to it and raised to strike when Snape appeared.

Harry froze with a loathing like none before for him. He didn't care what Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape.

While none gave a second of disagreeing as well, Harry couldn't help but look to his mother. Her face was a mask, lips trembling and white from feeling so much of this future. He almost believed that now as well, but then, there was just this one part of him that stopped him...

Snape demanded what Potter was doing?

Harry simply said trying to decide which curse to use on Malfoy.

Lily at least tried to hide her smirk for that, but even she failed at such boldness.

Snape tried to take points away from his house for this, but then he turned and realized the Gryffindor hour glass was completely empty. He instead began to threaten-

but was cut off by McGonagall arriving to state apparently they needed some more.

The room felt such a sudden rush of delirious happiness it was hard for a moment to even grasp the switch. None had exactly forgotten what had fallen their favorite teacher, but considering everything else that had happened in the meantime they hadn't even a second to spare for it. Now here she was again as if she'd never left, swooping in for Harry once again!

She beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle first off, depositing her bag onto them and telling them to take that up to her office

"Snappy as ever," Sirius chuckled pleasantly.

before continuing to address their head of house that the students should be awarded for alerting the world of You-Know-Who's return.

James whooped with a delirious noise, even just something slightly good happening again and he wanted to dance and cheer, finally just one moment to show the word wasn't all death in this future!

Snape merely sneered rather than agreeing.

"Eat your toes Snivlius," Sirius sneered.

"It's eat your words. How did you even-?" Remus began in confusion, but Sirius wasn't even listening as he was still laughing too hard.

McGonagall continued as if he had, awarding fifty points to both Weasley's, Longbottom, Granger, and Potter. Even as they watched, a shower of rubies fell into Gryffindor's house-glass.

"Now wait a moment," Lily couldn't help but try to insert even as her eyes were still gleaming, but Remus polity shushed her and said what he knew she'd been fixing to.

Then she tacked on a fifty for Miss Lovegood of Ravenclaw, and a sprinkle of Sapphires fell for that as well.

"Ah," Lily said pleasantly while the boys were still snickering away, even Harry cracked an honest grin again for this.

She did acknowledged that Snape had intended to take ten, and while the measly few flew back up, it still left a respectable amount below.

"Only two hundred and forty," Remus quickly did the math even as he couldn't stop himself smirking. "She's much less generous than Dumbledore, he probably would have given a couple hundred each."

"Can't win that cup every year I suppose," Harry said grudgingly, his mind not even on the subject anymore as something as silly like the House Cup felt like some far off fantasy of a worry.

Then she instructed the students to depart, and Harry at once went back on his way into the sunshine outside.

Students were all over the place out here, enjoying their last few days on the grounds. Many waved or called to him as he passed, like the Prophet, now seeing him as some kind of hero.

"Give them all the bird Harry," James pleasantly instructed.

Harry said nothing to any of them.

"A feat not any in here could manage I'm sure," Lily said pleasantly, she'd have a thing or two to say to anyone switching on a dime like this, Ron's ire of Quidditch team hopping would hold nothing.

He had no idea how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but he had so far avoided being questioned and preferred to keep it that way.

He thought at first when he knocked on Hagrid's cabin door that he was out, but then Fang came charging around the corner and almost bowled him over with the enthusiasm of his welcome.

Harry felt that pang shoot through him all over again, his hand growing painful around Sirius. This was ridiculous, Fang looked nothing like Padfoot...

Hagrid, it transpired, was picking runner beans in his back garden, and he came around to greet Harry and offer him a cup of dandelion juice.

"Should we be as worried about this as the rest of Hagrid's cooking?" Sirius said extra loudly just to get that look away from Harry's face even for a moment, he couldn't stand seeing his little pup in such misery every time something related back to him. It was killing him he'd been going through all of this in his past, and Sirius would do everything in his power to correct that now.

Once they were inside with a glass each, Hagrid asked how he was feeling?

"Dandoliney," James tried hard for a smirk and a joke, and Remus helpfully played along.

"Prongs, you can't substitute a weed for a fruit and get the same affect," Remus corrected.

"Says who?" James rebuked, before concluding, "Hark, look who's talking, you once switched armadillo bile with your own," James really did smirk then.

"It wasn't my fault breakfast wasn't agreeing with me that morning," Remus said tragically.

Harry could tell from his look of concern he did not mean psychically, but he simply fibbed he was fine and kept the conversation away from himself asking where he'd been?

Hagrid said hiding up in the mountains, like Sirius once had-

He stopped when he realized what he'd said, and feebly finished with he was back now.

"Subtle," Lily whispered, unlike the boys not pretending she couldn't see Harry's eyes swimming again. Sirius staying in those caves had almost been a good laugh at the time considering how well he knew the area, and suddenly the idea of if it had all been different just wasn't avoidable. If he'd just stayed up there instead of that ghastly house, if everything had been the way it should have and he'd never had to be there at all, if...

Harry instantly switched to saying Hagrid looked better, his old injuries from Grawp almost all faded.

It took a moment for Hagrid to realize what he meant and agreed Grawp was doing much better now, seemed right glad to have him back.

"I imagine that actually would have caused another injury," Sirius stated too loudly again, but he'd keep talking this way until the others stopped looking at him that way.

He was actually considering starting to look for a lady friend for him.

"Please tell me he's joking!" Lily yipped with more volume than Sirius had and easily capturing all attention.

"If he can get one for Aragog he would do it for anyone," James said without remorse.

"Hagrid's certainly becoming more interesting with this whole dating set up thing, maybe he should have a crack at Moony," Sirius smirked while Remus scowled hatefully for that.

Harry normally would have tried to persuade him otherwise, but he just hadn't the energy.

"Well you're just no help at all Harry," Remus grumbled instead of continuing to glare at Sirius.

Hagrid seemed to realize this and leaned forward to speak to Harry,saying he knew this was the way Sirius would want to go, in battle.

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth, he didn't have a true comment for that. The past twelve years of his life would have been a ruin, the last year possibly worse than anything those dementors could do. They ate away at your very soul just by being around, ruining anything happy you could hope to cling to...and then to be trapped in such a place where so many of all the worst memories would come back! Death honestly would have sounded more bearable after so many long months... he'd see James again...

Harry snapped back he hadn't wanted to go at all!

"But then there's that," Sirius sighed, couldn't speak aloud what had just pulsed through him, but he knew he wasn't doing a good job of hiding it at the panicky look from his brother. None of it would have mattered, the reason he had done what he was doing was for Harry, and now his godson spoke nothing but the truth. Sirius would do it all again just to be there for Harry in whatever way he had, no matter how short of time it was.

Hagrid bowed his head, but continued to speak quietly that he couldn't have lived with himself if he'd done nothing when Harry had needed help-

Harry's throat burned as he heard all that. He meant to hold it in, he really did, but then Sirius began to speak, and Harry burst. "I don't want to hear it! I don't give a damn! You still, you-" he was just left covered in ice, the fire instantly forgotten as Sirius' studious expression didn't change.

He would have lived, but he wouldn't be the man Harry had grown to admire and love.

Sirius didn't speak when he saw it all, that Harry had understood no matter how much he'd hate him for it.

Harry leapt up, telling he was going to visit Ron and Hermione at the hospital wing.

Hagrid looked upset,

'After what he just did, I'm not surprised,' Lily honestly agreed. Those had been the words Harry had needed to hear, but there was never a time to say them.

but did not stop Harry, only asking him to come back soon-

Harry was closing the door before he was done.

People still waved cheerfully to him, the sun shone bright above, but he wished they'd all just go away. A few days ago, before his exams had finished and he had seen the vision Voldemort had planted in his mind, he would have given almost anything for the wizarding world to know he had been telling the truth, for them to believe that Voldemort was back, and to know that he was neither a liar nor mad. Now, however . . .

Harry stayed nestled into Sirius' side, his heart feeling as heavy as it had back then no matter how much his mind told him to put it all away and be here with Sirius now while he had every chance he could. It wasn't quite working, the pain from his past would not fade no matter the replacement he had now.

He walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passers-by behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking . . .

Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore.

"Harry," Sirius whispered for him alone, knowing his parents, that anyone else could have said the same, but Harry needed this to come from him. "You'll do what you think is right."

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, but it didn't stop the traitorous tears coming again. It was all to real, he could have opened them again and been back on that lake edge, the ghost of Sirius' voice whispering in his ear an assurance he'd needed that no one had been left to give.

Remus wished it would have just ended there, that this stupid thing was done. No more should have been said or done, but he also couldn't just stop. Harry needed some closure, and while he couldn't imagine how he was going to get it from that time, it felt impossible right now any of them were capable of doing so, only a reminder of everything he'd lost in his life while living through it all again.

He sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about his godfather or to remember that it was directly across from here, on the opposite bank, that Sirius had once collapsed trying to fend off a hundred Dementors . . .

James had felt the bitter taint of regret, of not being there for those who needed him since the very beginning, and now even that moment felt like it was being torn away. Prongs had only been delaying the moment, he hadn't really the chance to save anyone.

The sun had set before he realized he was cold. He got up and returned to the castle, wiping his face on his sleeve as he went.

Sirius kept frowning as Harry tried to do the same now. He'd never wanted to be the cause of so much grief to his godson, to anyone.

Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Hermione kept showing signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make 'shushing' noises every time she mentioned his name.

Lily made a watery noise as she kept sniffling, like she was trying to giggle but the noise wouldn't come. She imagined herself the same way at least in that regards, she felt useless as a mother she didn't have to talk and pry things from him when these books were saying it all. She honestly wished Harry had the chance to speak this for himself, but he often chose not to and let that speak for him. She wanted to change that, but remained unsure how. She'd have to find a way to get him off his crutch soon.

Harry was still not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his godfather yet; his wishes varied with his mood.

"I know I always loathe talking about him," James muttered as he ruffled up his hair in agitation. "He manages to turn all conversations about himself."

"A trait he learned from you," Remus muttered. The two couldn't help it, to take shots at their friend, at each other, it was one thing they could still do to each other this future hadn't yet taken away.

He knew one thing, though: unhappy as he felt at the moment, he would greatly miss Hogwarts in a few days' time when he was back at number four, Privet Drive.

Harry tried to clear his throat, but it still seemed filled with too much snot to hold anything. It didn't mean he wanted to think about that anymore than the others, and thankfully Remus hissed past the moment knowing it would come up again all too soon.

Even though he now understood exactly why he had to return there every summer, he did not feel any better about it. Indeed, he had never dreaded his return more.

Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected,

"Which she deserves absolutely none of," Remus said in pure disgust.

but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed, and chased her gleefully from the premises whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many students ran out into the Entrance Hall to watch her running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain them. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.

The laughter that echoed through the room was long over due, but somehow far more lackluster than any ever would have predicted. After all she did to Harry, to that school, to so many people, this rather tame leaving of the post just did not feel as whelming as it should have. Then again, unless someone, Sirius, had arrived to escort her to Azkaban nothing would have felt as good.

Their last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term leaving feast, but Harry had not even started.

"Who did win the House Cup?" Lily insisted on keeping up the pleasant mood with any mundane topic she could.

"It was canceled, Dumbledore's reason was the Inquisitorial Squad made it too biased." Harry shrugged.

"Is that actually how he phrased it?" James said.

"No, he made some great speech announcement about Voldemort officially being back again, though Ron said he was just rubbing it in. What he actually said was something more along the lines of school unity and looking past all our differences to become one again in the face of-" he cut himself off with a heavy roll of his eyes. "I'm not Hermione, I don't remember the exact words. That's just what I got out of it."

"Fair enough," Remus agreed.

Ron was still trying to convince him to do it tomorrow, but Harry still convinced him to go on while he did this.

But when the dormitory door closed behind Ron, Harry made no effort to speed up his packing. The very last thing he wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. He was worried that Dumbledore would make some reference to him in his speech. He was sure to mention Voldemort's return; he had talked to them about it last year, after all . . .

"I doubt he'd make two speeches," James tried to encourage, he couldn't imagine missing the last feast.

"The first wasn't really a speech so much as just an announcement," Harry shrugged in defense.

Harry pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of his trunk to make way for folded ones and, as he did so, noticed a badly wrapped package lying in a corner of it. He could not think what it was doing there. He bent down, pulled it out from underneath his trainers and examined it.

He realized what it was within seconds. Sirius had given it to him just inside the front door of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, he suddenly looked like he was going to be sick, and none of them looked any better. Remus could already feel small little shivers starting, he couldn't look at any of them, barely saying in a whisper.

Harry sank down on to his bed and unwrapped the package. Out fell a small, square mirror. It looked old; it was certainly dirty. Harry held it up to his face and saw his own reflection looking back at him.

He turned the mirror over. There on the reverse side was a scribbled note from Sirius.

This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair.

James looked back on that moment, of feeling exasperated Harry had worried so much about Sirius. He hadn't found his son silly at all for thinking it, but even still, no matter how dark his mind had gone in offering what could happen to Sirius if he were to be caught again, he'd never wanted to imagine this all to come up again like this.

If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.

Remus was stammering by the end, words becoming a blur as too many memories washed over him, over them all. Detentions, something as common to their life as homework, and still they'd refused to be apart, but he'd never want them back together again like this.

Harry's heart began to race. He remembered seeing his dead parents in the Mirror of Erised four years ago. He was going to be able to talk to Sirius again, right now, he knew it-

Sirius held Harry tight to him again, his frame going more pale by the second, his eyes wouldn't alight with that same hope in here and Sirius wasn't sure if it was age looking back or simply the boy in here couldn't even hold onto the same hope anymore with Sirius right beside him, his every being prepared for the blow he knew would come.

He called clearly for Sirius, and nothing happened. He tried again, using his full name, and still it only reflected his own face. Sirius hadn't had the mirror when he fell through...

"Magic can't bring back everything Harry," Lily couldn't seem to stop herself explaining, that burning look on his face compelled her to just say something. "The paintings, the ghosts, their just echos, can only do and say what they're magicked to do, not-" she stopped because it meant nothing to him. If this were true he would have long since had his parents back, there would never be such sadness in the world again. He just buried his face back into Sirius' shoulder, struggling to breath so much he was convinced he never properly could again.

Harry remained quite still for a moment, then hurled the mirror back into the trunk where it shattered.

James could all but hear the echo of the glass, feel that more than Harry understood. Sirius' last gift to him, from both of them, was as gone from his life as they were, leaving no more explanation than anything else they continued to be without. Where had those mirrors been all those years, where as the the other now? He didn't believe he'd get those answer's anymore than an explanation for why this had happened to a man who didn't deserve it.

He had been convinced, for a whole, shining moment, that he was going to see Sirius, talk to him again . . .

Disappointment was burning in his throat; he got up and began throwing his things pell- mell into the trunk on top of the broken mirror -

But then an idea struck him . . . a better idea than a mirror . . . a much bigger, more important idea . . . how had he never thought of it before - why had he never asked?

They weren't even sure if Harry could hear them. He wouldn't look up now, keeping his face away as if ashamed of what came next.

He was sprinting out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase, hitting the walls as he ran and barely noticing; he hurtled across the empty common room, through the portrait hole and off along the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady shouting behind him.

How could it be that the place was full of ghosts whenever you didn't need one, yet now . . .

Maybe it was because of the detachment from his memories, maybe it was because he had Sirius right now and he didn't want to see the look on his face for what came next, but as Harry felt Sirius tense and try to murmur something, all he could feel was his shameful wish for what his godfather could never have done.

He ran down staircases and along corridors and met nobody either alive or dead. They were all, clearly, in the Great Hall. Outside his Charms classroom he came to a halt, panting and thinking disconsolately that he would have to wait until later, until after the end of the feast . . .

Somehow it was even more painful Harry was forgetting another of Sirius' old things, and one they'd never even thought to bring up themselves. Did Sirius know Harry had the map? It had never really said, but Harry forgetting it now on top of everything couldn't have come at a worst time, they needed this to be done with. It was killing them all, more than having to listen to Sirius' fate, just to watch Harry cope through it all.

He found Nearly Headless Nick just as he was walking through an adjacent wall, and he popped his head back out to see who it was and walked properly out of the wall to greet him. Harry greeted him and tried to invite him into the classroom, but Nick hesitated for a long time before grudgingly going, saying he'd been expecting this.

Remus' face was flushed, eyes only on the book even as his mind wondered how many times a ghost had to have this conversation, how often he'd come across a crying student and the pearly white figures and had never thought about it more than that.

Harry was holding the door open for him, but he drifted through the wall instead.

"Ghosts," James tried to mutter petulantly, but it instead came out in his own ghostly tone.

He asked expecting what as he closed the door, but Nick didn't even look at him as he drifted to the window saying for young Harry to come talk to him, it happened often when students here had suffered a loss.

Harry refused to be deflected and said Nick was dead.

"Does the bluntness help the awkwardness?" Sirius asked him mock politely.

Harry didn't look up, though his shoulders eased just slightly from feeling the rumble of a chest beneath him. He already knew, even looking back, he couldn't have stood to see Sirius as that pearly figure for longer than a breath. To never truly have him again but a shell, an echo, it would have felt colder to him than his old cupboard ever had.

James wouldn't let the moment pass without saying though, "you'd know that better than anyone," because he could never stand wasting a single moment to talk to Sirius.

Sirius just smiled at him, the feeling just a bit forced as he could only imagine how much this was hurting James, how much every layer of this was just wrong for him. Sirius being dead and Harry feeling more for this than he ever had for his parents.

He was walking and talking though.

Nick took a long time in answering that not everyone could, only wizards.

Harry almost laughed in relief, thinking this was all his hesitation was and agreeing at once the person he was referring to was a wizard!

Nick still wouldn't look around when he said he wouldn't come back.

Harry asked who?

"Who were you talking about?" Remus couldn't help but look at him with great concern.

Harry forced himself to look up then, adjusting his glasses that were poking him in the face but still not really able to meet his eyes, just gestured wordlessly at Sirius, and Remus realized Harry had just refused to understand until it had been shoved in his face.

Sirius Black, Nick had said at once.

Harry said he could! Nick had!

Nick agreed wizards could leave an imprint of themselves on the earth, but it is only a pale trod from their living lives, very few chose to do it.

Harry said Sirius wouldn't matter if it was unusual,

"Well you got that one right," Lily managed a chuckle as she gave Sirius a little smirk which he all to happily returned.

he'd come back, he knew he would!

Harry was fixing his glasses stubbornly now, they might have gone a bit crooked from pressing his face so hard into them and that was why his vision was still a little blurry, surely he'd poked himself in the eye and that's why they were still watering, this was ridiculous, he knew with everything in him right now Sirius wouldn't come back.

"Harry," Sirius couldn't help but grab his wrist, to make him stop that before he took his eye out as his face continued to grow out of that sorrow and slowly into anger. "Harry you know I'd come back for you in any way I could, the real way. I'd have done anything to get back out of there, but only, only if it were real, if I was coming back, not-"

Harry jerked his arm free but forced himself to take a deep breath no matter how much it hurt. His lungs still weren't in working order anymore than his glasses, though he couldn't seem to find a thing wrong with either when he kept checking.

And so strong was his belief, Harry actually turned his head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that he was going to see Sirius, pearly-white and transparent but beaming, walking through it towards him.

Remus couldn't believe he was forcing himself to do this. He kept wondering, at the back of his mind, where he was, what was his useless self doing now instead of explaining to Harry Sirius would never have even considered doing such a thing, why was Nick having to be the one to answer for this.

Nick simply said he would not, he has gone on.

Harry demanded what that meant? What happened when you died? Where had Nick gone? Why doesn't everyone come back and this place was full of ghosts?!

They'd all asked these questions at some point, everyone at Hogwarts had to varying degrees. Never before for any of them had it felt so personal, or the answer so vital, even when already knowing what Nick would say.

Nick could only answer for himself, and he had no true answer. He'd simply, lingered. He'd been afraid of death, and he often wished it hadn't been so. He was neither here nor there...

'At what point does the mind and soul no longer intertwine,' the passage from an old book flitted through Lily's mind, when she herself had been looking into this very subject. Ghosts seemed to be the embodiment of that answer, and the moment she'd realized that she'd snapped the thing shut and had avoided the spectacular figures the rest of the day, too young then to fully grasp what she'd come across now, too young now to know that loss and still having to live through it.

He apologized for not being more help, and then he left.

Harry felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losing the hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more.

"Miracles happen though," Harry muttered as he looked back to his godfather now, eyeing him with worry, his face flush and alive, gray eyes alert and bright for anything and everything. He did not know what had led him to this moment, but he knew, he would never regret it.

He walked slowly and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether he would ever feel cheerful again.

It hurt, it was as fake as a dupe, but Harry smiled at Sirius, at all of them. He didn't know how, he could not imagine anything but the gray fog still trying to swallow him whole from his past, but he also knew with everything in him this was not true. Ron and Hermione were just down the stairs, and his friends would be there for him when he opened up to them. The ring glistened on his finger for a moment, a warmth unto itself promising a future he just couldn't envision right now.

He had turned the corner towards the Fat Lady's corridor when he saw somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A second glance showed him it was Luna. There were no good hiding places nearby, she was bound to have heard his footsteps, and in any case, Harry could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

She gave him a vague wave, and he dully asked why she wasn't at the feast?

She said she'd lost her possessions and was trying to get them back, she was putting up signs asking the people to return them.

"They what?" Remus muttered in surprised outrage for what had just come out of his mouth.

"Kids," Lily muttered with a petulant eye on James, who batted his eyes innocently even though they remained rather hard and distant. He felt bad for Luna, but this still wasn't enough to distract him from what was going on in Harry's life, and so he waved Moony on so Lily couldn't start on what terrible youths they were again.

She spoke all of this serenely as she gestured towards the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, she had pinned a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling rose in Harry; an emotion quite different from the anger and grief that had filled him since Sirius's death. It was a few moments before he realized that he was feeling sorry for Luna.

James looked oddly at Harry, struggling a moment to see where he was coming from, but it came to him. Harry's face was still sad now, but for just a moment he had taken his mind off his own grief to see what was being done to others, something James had never bothered to do at any sense, at much of any age. Harry had briefly accused them of treating Luna as they once would have Snape, and while none of them had denied it, James suddenly liked to think he wouldn't have for this moment alone, the girl who made Harry see the outside world outside his own life.

Harry asked why they did that, and Luna said she wasn't sure, though she suspected it was because they found her odd. They called her Loony Lovegood you know.

"Yes well, so did they to Moony, but then again, maybe that's why we were the only fools who would tolerate him," Sirius smirked while Remus just smiled faintly and pretended to ignore him.

Harry offered to help her find it all, but Luna just kept smiling as she said it would all come back, it always did.

"She's so," Lily struggled for a word on this girl. She'd have been furious if someone had tired this on her, strung people up all along the castle if they'd even dared mess with her in this way. Serene was a good way to put it, very flowing. Luna simply accepted the way things were rather than trying to force people to behave how they should, and Lily found that honestly admirable, even while she'd be doing the same for Luna's things.

Then she asked why he wasn't at the feast, and he admitted he just hadn't felt like it.

Luna nodded as if she understood this, stating that the man that Death Eater killed had been his godfather, Ginny had told him. Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius.

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, Harry noting he almost sounded like a pur rather than his usual dog like habits when he was content. Harry couldn't help the genuine smile that flit across his face then, even for a moment.

He suddenly remembered she could see thestrals to, and tried to politely ask who she'd seen die.

She told of her mother, who was an extraordinary witch who liked to experiment with Charms, and one had gone wrong. Luna had been nine.

Harry mumbled an apology for this, and Luna conversationally agreed how horrible it had been, and she was still very sad about it, but she still had her dad.

"Lucky her," James couldn't help but whisper, thankful only Remus had heard and he was politely ignored.

Though it wasn't as if she'd never see her again.

Harry asked about that, and Luna reminded of the room with the veil, Harry had heard them to.

Sirius couldn't help a well of panic for a moment. If Harry went back there, tried to get him out- he was being ridiculous, his mind instantly corrected. His godson was alive and safe right beside him. As desperate as he was, Remus had clearly gotten something through to him, that the veil was not the answer, there was no answer to making him come back. All that thing could ever do was taunt what Harry had lost.

Harry could think of nothing to say to that, and so again insisted he'd like to help her find her things.

Luna denied him though, saying she was done now and was going down to have some pudding. She wished Harry a good holiday, and he did so as well.

She walked away from him and, as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.

Sirius gave one last comforting brush to Harry, who leaned into the touch just like he always did, he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet.

Remus gave a mock yawn. Considering Harry had bested all of their fathers and then some at the same time, this was beyond child's play to him. It was hard to imagine a worse pain to come than what they'd already suffered, certainly these school yard bullies held nothing.

The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of DA members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot,

"Hopefully Ron lets go of his grudge on those Ravenclaws now," James said with his first real attempt at a chipper tone, even being back on that bloody train which always spelled disaster considering who was waiting at the end very time, and the man who wasn't.

"Actually, I think Ginny broke up with him," Harry said in a light, rather forced conversational tone of voice. He wasn't sure where this idea came from, but he didn't feel much care for it either way. He really must have been desperate for anything to smile at, he certainly was doing so now at such a random bit of information.

had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniform as Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

"Twice on these train rides, this is becoming a tradition I almost look forward to," Remus smirked.

Ron had stepped out to see the commotion and came across the end results, saying at least Goyle's mum would be pleased, he looked better now.

"And there's Ron, always making sure to note the important things," Sirius chuckled.

Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.

Lily brushed at her hair, her face distant with distress. The train ride to start all this, and they'd been worried about such things as Harry's crush and the Ministry. Now he was going through again a new person. Though having experienced death once before, this was still something new, even worse. His innocence kept being peeled away, though he'd never had much to begin with, and she worried how much more he could handle.

Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articles about how to repel Dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning . . .

Harry scoffed in disbelief even while he saw nothing of surprise on the others, and he shook his head sadly this was common for them.

Ron softly called his attention then, and Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava.

"How long is that thing going to last?" Lily asked with the hint of worry now for what Hermione had done, had she really permanently scared that child for such a nasty trick.

"Never asked," Harry shrugged without much of a thought. "If I remember seeing her next year, I'll let you know."

His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking.

They watched Harry curiously, but he seemed to be holding this with the same indifference as he had watching a little game of chess.

Harry looked back to his chess game with indifference. Hermione tentatively said she'd heard Cho was going out with someone else now.

"Well that was fast," James rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, it took longer than I expected," Sirius snorted.

Harry was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him; so much of what he had wanted before Sirius's death felt that way these days . . . the week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.

Harry was already struggling again, his composure as flimsy as paper in here. The feeling was growing rather than receding, of how to fit all three of these universes into his head. He knew it was ridiculous, he could treat Sirius the same way now as he had before all this, but at the same time it didn't feel right, just slightly off, as if here were disrespecting his own godfathers memories by joshing around with him as the younger carefree man he'd never known. It just wasn't sitting right, and he knew he needed time to come to term with all this, and just looked pleadingly at Remus to keep going, to finish this and give him that chance. While he'd avoided it in here, the feeling was creeping back now, he did want some alone time before he had to hear more.

Ron said he was probably better off, he needed someone a bit more cheerful. Then Ron asked Hermione who she'd heard she was with?

Hermione said Michael Corner, and Ron looked to his sister in surprise as that had been her boyfriend.

Ginny shrugged with as much care as Harry just had, saying he'd been a sore loser when Ravenclaw had lost the Quidditch Cup, so she'd ditched him and he'd gone to comfort Cho instead.

"What a smarmy little bloke, they deserve each other," James said without interest as he picked at his nails.

Ron looked highly delighted.

"I'm sure he did," Lily muttered with a small smile even as she kept watching Harry, who was at least pretending to keep listening with far more curiosity than was necessary, clearly still avoiding talking to them.

Then he said he hoped his sister found someone, better, next time, casting Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.

Sirius gave a little wolf whistle while the others started snickering. Harry got a lopsided smile in place, his thumb twitching a bit now out of reflex to brush at his ring unconscionably. It was all still a joke of course, Harry told himself, Ron was only thinking this way to keep his sister away from others boys, he didn't really mean anything by it...

Ginny responded she'd chosen Dean Thomas, was that better?

"Err, no!" Remus yelped in surprise while Sirius and James laughed harder.

"What bloke dates a dorm mates younger sister, that's a spell for disaster if I've ever heard one," James rolled his eyes in agreement.

"Can you imagine the idiot?" Sirius demanded.

Ron shouted in such surprise he upended the chessboard.

As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less.

"Wait, no, you skipped the best part!" Sirius yelped.

"Ginny told Ron to shut up, and he was in a temper the rest of the trip and muttering death threats to our dorm mate," Harry shrugged, even as at the time he'd agreed with Ron whenever demanded of, he'd mostly just been watching Ginny and that little smirk she'd kept hidden behind her paper for further irritating her brother in this way, it had been quite the show to watch and he'd wished the moment would never end.

He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts.

"I really do wish you'd find out what happened, just once, let that be now," Sirius said tragically, and it wasn't a farce at a all. It had been there for one shining glorious moment before it was wrenched away, and then it had been left to hover, fester, in the back while Sirius had been on the run, incapable of fulfilling what they'd wanted from the very beginning. Now it was gone, permanently. Harry would never be able to step off that train to a real home.

When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig' cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.

When the ticket inspector signaled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters. Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers.

Remus couldn't believe his eyes, just staring at that and sure he'd read that wrong until James began laughing beside him. It was wild, and jittery, but he clapped Remus on the shoulder and shouted right in his ear, "there's Moony always coming through for us."

Remus didn't even have it in him to pull away, rub at his ear for the volume, he seemed stumped at what to do with himself. Finally, just a small little part of their wish had been granted, and yet it felt as bitterly tainted as spoiled milk. Because there was still someone missing, there always would be now, and Remus had never been there a single moment before this for Harry. It felt meaningless he'd done it now.

The others clearly didn't agree, Sirius shifting restlessly and prepared to wrestle the book from him if he didn't keep going, to find out what this was about! Was it finally happening, had Dumbledore changed his mind and admitted to another way? Was the Order going to take Harry out from those Dursleys noses at last?!

If James prodding Remus in the side hadn't got him started Remus likely wouldn't have moved ever again, but he shook off the terrible thoughts of this future and forced himself to focus on the now, Sirius still smiling widely and eagerly at him, and so he crossed his fingers to do one thing right and read out a moment they all so desperately needed.

At the front were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley along with the twins, the mother already coming forward to hug her children. Ron took his absently as he kept eyeing the twins, demanding what they were wearing?

Fred said dragonskin jackets with pride.

"Treating themselves a bit," Lily muttered with a raised brow as Remus gave a low whistle of surprise.

"They deserve it," Sirius said at once, smiling widely at the prospect and honestly wanting to snap the book shut on Remus' fingers right there, just let this moment last forever.

Remus would have ignored him anyways, their fantasies would only be worse the longer they delayed moving on, so he kept going loudly to really see what all this was about.

Harry greeted them all, but couldn't help asking what they were doing here?

Lupin had a faint smile in place as he said they'd decided to have a little chat with his aunt and uncle before letting them take him home.

Lily groaned obnoxiously loudly and let her head flop back against her seat. It was so exaggerated Harry couldn't help bursting out with laughter seeing his mother do something like that, and so Remus' expression went unnoticed by everyone except James. He'd realized the moment that look had flitted across his friends face what he could have thought they meant, and while the hope had been there he'd never let this blame fall on him either. "Moony, I don't care what made you do it, you are! Be happy about something for once in your life! Those bloody Muggles needed someone to remind them of who they have to look after until you show up again!" He managed to hiss at him while the other three were distracted.

Remus just looked at him, unable to believe after all this time, after all he'd done, Prongs was still standing up for him, even against himself. He'd finally lost everything in this future, but here and now he couldn't help but smile while he kept going, clinging to the idea he wouldn't be alone here.

Harry at once said he didn't think that a good idea, but Moody corrected he did, and gestured over his shoulder confirming that as them.

Harry glanced slightly and found all three standing there, positively appalled at his reception.

"A gift in itself," Sirius nodded as if his wish really had been made. It wasn't on the same level as satisfying if Harry had just left with the people he should have, but honestly after so much misery he'd take what he could get.

Mr. Weasley seemed rather reluctant to turn away from greeting Hermione's parents, but was the one to say they should get this started.

"Be afraid," James said in a mock spooky voice.

The four crossed with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Arthur still pleasantly speaking the greeting to them in hopes they'd remember him.

"Hard to forget the man," Lily managed in between a righteous little giggle.

As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys' living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company.

"Come on universe, I don't care who, I want someone to appear and see her there," James said at once, anything to make this just marginally worse for the people who still deserved more than they were going to get, but this was the first time Moony had been in their company, and he wasn't going to be satisfied until they walked away with stains in their pants.

Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.

"Better than trying to look intimidating, he'd just fail at that more," Sirius sneered.

Arthur was continuing his politeness as he said they'd decided to have a little chat with them about Harry-

and how he was treated when at their place, Moody interrupted with his growled voice.

"Be very afraid," Remus agreed with a slight smile now for this show.

Uncle Vernon's mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.

Five collective snorts of laughter for just how wrong that impression was, Harry's coming out a bit more runny than he'd meant to. His eyes were misting again. He didn't want to be reduced to tears again so soon, but he couldn't help it, he'd never in his life seen so many people to show him support like this...

Stating he was not aware that it was any of their business what went on in his house-

Moody interrupted again to state that he expected what Vernon wasn't aware of would fill several books.

Sirius gave a wild, unconstrained laugh that didn't stop for several minutes!

"That's too kind, I find encyclopedia far more accurate," Remus huffed.

"Credit for trying," Lily shrugged, she'd have been cheering them all on for someone finally doing something about this!

"Guess we'll just have to settle for these," James tried to roll his eyes like this was all fun.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.

"Oh he has no idea," Sirius muttered, his enthusiasm still prevailing over the little frown he carried and refused to acknowledge. What he would give to be there for Harry now, even more than ever before, as gratitude was washing over his little pup now like never before.

He demanded if he was being threatened?

Mad-Eye happily agreed he was, seeming rather pleased Vernon had grasped this so quickly.

"The man has one trick, and now they've all seen it," James sneered.

Vernon barked if he looked like a man who could be intimidated?

Moody began that yes, it seemed so, as he spoke he tipped his hat up so his eye was visible, and Vernon lept back with such shock he collided with a nearby trolley cart and both fell over.

Lily was giggling hysterically now, the triumphant feeling wouldn't fade that finally someone was standing up to that pompous blubber even if it wasn't the man they'd all been hoping for.

He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry, telling him to give a shout if he needed anything, and if they didn't hear from him for three days, someone would come along.

Remus gave his head a soft little annoyed shake, remembering Harry's second year and how he'd gone most of the summer without contact and it had been practically ignored, oh how things had changed, almost for the better, right? He tried to keep James' words in mind at least Harry could never be so ignored again.

Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbors would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.

"So, Harry should ask them to come over for tea sooner rather than later," Sirius obviously concluded.

They each said their goodbyes then, promising they'd see him soon.

Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.

Harry gave one last broken sob as he brushed furiously at new tears still arriving. Sirius had never once been able to pick him up from the station, as any semblance for that promise of a home, a family, and now he never could; but that didn't mean he had to be alone.

HPHPHPHPHP

That last moment always felt a little hollow to me. I know what JK was going for, but it never goes anywhere, the Order never actually acts on these implied threats because the Dursley's were long since scared straight by the idea of Sirius. It's kind of nice they tried to keep this going, but Harry never even would have told them Sirius was dead so they never would have known the difference, the threats never carry through, and so I couldn't manage to make this book end any other way because the book itself ended so dang depressing to me.

With that being said-

I! Actually! Finished! My! Favorite! Book!

For real guys, I can hardly believe this is over! It has by far been the most dramatic, climactic, and emotional one yet, and not all just for the characters. Someone made the review, though I can no longer check, that it would be at the point of The Department of Mysteries that most authors would stop, and while I swore I wasn't going to do that, that's when the original copy got taken down. Points for irony fanfiction! I didn't stop though, I never shall, and honestly even in the following deaths of the last two books none will ever feel as powerful as this one did.

Thoughts on Order of the Phoenix:

I could honestly gush about this one for ages, but I'll try to keep it to a low roar. Hem, hem; The mystery is as overwhelmingly engaging as any predecessor, JK dropping that Department of Mysteries corridor and presenting it as just a dream for so long before it fully ties in never ceased to amaze me how she keeps managing to surprise me like that. The characters are just brilliant, they all feel so alive in even the smallest scene any one person is in, and has there ever been a worse villain created? There are those out there who sympathize and understand even Voldemort, but has there ever been a soul that didn't loath Umbridge worse than the main series villain? I don't even think the Dementors could handle her soul, not really, considering I'm not genuinely sure she had one. The twins had their own side plot and every time it was mentioned I start grinning like a crazy person, there has never been nor will there ever be such an epic leave from that castle. Every single chapter feels like a genuine combination of light hearted life and the shit about to hit the fan syndrome for the last book, and THAT ENDING! Gah, 14 years later and I'm still a mess over poor Sirius and Harry and Remus, sometimes I have to actually stop and realize I'm crying over fake characters because it's all so compelling and just real in the most important way; she made me care from the moment Sirius swore to Harry's face he'd never do a thing against his dead best friend, and then she killed him two books later! 10/10; Favorite book in the series, nothing beats the heavy weight that is Order of the Phoenix.

Instead of making you guys wait before I start posting six, I'll actually have a special surprise for you in the meantime, so you won't just have to go months without hearing from me, so look to my profile for that special little thing coming up in the meantime about November.

I would like to thank every single living, and the unliving if there are any of those who read, person who read this. Every review/favorite means oh so much to me! Thank you to all, and I bid you good day.

[gallavictorious]

I loved Gallavich in 10x08 but struggled quite a bit with them in 10x09 and 10x10 (even if I personally loved the brawl proposal), partly because Mickey's behaviour in regards to Byron makes me cringe so hard, and partly because we don't get a proper explanation for how Ian goes from ”how do you know you love me” to ”and if you let me...  “ and this bugs me.

However, never let it be said that I'm not ready to do whatever interpretative work needs to be done  for my favourite couple to make sense, so here it is:

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Episodes.

(Disclaimer: I'm just now watching season 10 in its entirerty and you guys have been at this for a while. If you've heard it all before, please be patient with a newbie who just really needs to sort through her thoughts and emotions.)

Now, I know that many fans would have preferred Byron to actually like Mickey, and I've seen pre-episode 10x10 takes where people theorized that Byron, rather than list all the ways Mickey sucks would list all the way he soars, thus leading to an eavesdropping Ian's realization that he needs to be with Mickey forever. And while that would have been very sweet in its own way – I am myself very much here for more people appreciating Mickey – I think it would ultimately have been far less realistic, for two reasons: 1, Mickey was never going to treat Byron well, and 2, Ian's reservations about getting married were never rooted in a lack of love for Mickey.

Mickey's cringe-worthy treatment of Byron stems from him trying to perform two different roles at the same time: he strives to be demonstratively affectionate whenever they're in front of Ian, but this reads as fundamentally false becuase this is not how Mickey normally shows affection. But Mickey's usual mode of loving communication is both far less overt than this, and thus less fit for the purpose, but also something he would never allow Byron to experience, because Mickey being loving is largely tied to Mickey allowing himself to be vulnerable, to be open and himself, and since Byron is not someone he trusts, or even respects, that's never going to happen. I'd argue that Mickey chooses Byron exactly because he perceives Byron as ”weak” and so someone he can use for his own means without Byron putting up a fight about it - but at the same time, associating with this ”weakness” actualizes all of Mickey's internalized ideas about strenght, manliness, South Side, etc, which leads him to revert back to his extra special thuggish behaviour in order to continually establish dominance and distance himself from the more effeminate homosexuality Byron represents. So, he treats Byron rather nastily, while at the same time employing conventional means of demonstrating affection whenever Ian's around, which serves both as a means to show oh god, how very very much in love with Byron he is, and as a means to always maintain a distance from Byron himself. Which is actually very realistic, given what we know of Mickey, but makes for a whiplash watching experience, and yes. Cringe.

And I'm pretty sure Mickey isn't even trying to fool Ian here: he doesn't expect Ian to believe that he has suddenly fallen in love with someone else. (So again, the unconvincing declarations of love on Mickey’s part serves a purpose here; they’re unconvincing on purpose, if maybe not alway consciously so.) This is an act calculated to provoke a response, becaue he needs Ian to prove something to him, to fight for him. (This bit, about Mickey needing a grand gesture rather than words have been discussed by many others in more articulate ways, so I'm not going to dwell on that.)

But regardless: everything Ian overhears Byron say is true (well, apart from the dumb bit – but I think Byron can be forgiven for not getting that, becaues I doubt Mickey made any effort at all to put his smarts on display, and our boy sure does act dumb from time to time). So why is hearing Byron say it enough to spur Ian into the grand gesture Mickey is looking for? Sure, we all get really pissed when hear others talk smack about the ones we love, but Ian's reluctance to marry was never rooted in Ian doubting his feelings for Mickey, so realizing that ”oh, I need to beat this one up because he's mean to my man” can hardly be the catalysator here. Actually, I don't think it is the catalysator – it just paves the way for the moment that is.

Bear wih me for a while:

That Mickey believes that it's Ian's feelings for him that waver isn't hard to understand: Ian has left him, multiple times, and considering how hard he went for the ”if we love and trust each other the maybe this decision isn't that hard” I absolutely get that Mickey, when Ian backs out, comes to the conclusion that Ian does not, in fact, love and/or trust him, at least not enough. But Ian does, and he verbally reaffirms that throughout these and the previous episodes. Does his insecurity, then, stem from an uncertainty that Mickey will be able to love him throughout his highs and lows? This is what he tries to tell Mickey when the whole promise rings thing fall apart, and I get that it pisses Mickey off, because hasn't Mickey already demonstrated, again and again, that he will stick by Ian, no matter what? Is Ian really so dense and insecure as not to see that?

I actually think that Ian absolutely knows that Mickey will stand by him through thick and thin, and this scares him because what if he develops into someone that Mickey no longer can love but feels obligated to stay with anyway? Ian hates being helpless; Ian hates being a victi; Ian hates feeling indebted to people because that implies he can't take care of himself, and I think that nothing terrifies him more than being a project, or being someone people stay with because they pity him or worry that he can't take care of himself. The issue here, I think, is that he doesn't trust Mickey to leave.

Why this would would be a bigger problem than it already is if they were married I don't quite get, but marriage typically speaks of a stronger and more formal committment and so is even harder to break up from, maybe? Hm. This part I haven't quite figured out yet.

Anyhow. Ian's problem is that he is scared that Mickey will stick with him even when Mickey really would rather leave, Mickey's problem – apart from him being pretty nasty to Byron – is that he wants a Grand Gesture and Proof of Love from Ian, because just expressions of love doesn’t cut it with him. This, I think, is not the proposal, but the fact that Ian shows up with a fake date. This obvious attempt at making Mickey jealous is enough to prove to Mickey that yeah, this means something to Ian too. Particularly since it comes right at the heels of Mickey experiencing a moment of true fear, when Ian announces his new partner: what if this is real, what if Mickey took things too far, what if he fucked this up? But then he sees Cole (who is, btw, awesome) and he sees Ian's face, and he knows exactly what Ian is up to. I think it was fiona-fififi who noted that they both realize that they'll be going home togheter this evening, even though they also have to go through the movements of a proper reconciliation. I tend to think of this as Mickey knowing they're going to make up, because he's prepared for that now, but Ian doesn't know it, yet. Mickey's just waiting for the opportune moment, and he's probably feeling a bit insecure, too, because how do you make the first move after all this?

But then, when Ian tops the whole thing off by beating up Byron (which Byron really didn't deserve, becaue after what Mickey put him through, he has earned the right to badmouth him – even if he is a coward for not just making Mickey leave), yeah, that's Mickey done for, that was all he needed. When he walks over to the pile of bodies, going ”hey”, that's an overture of peace: at this point, Ian doesn't actually need to propse to win him back. That is already a done deal.

I think Ian knows this too. I actually need Ian to know this too, because otherwise it will forever feel like he agreed to something he really didn't want just to have Mickey back, and this doesn't sit right with him. But then the question remain – why the fuck did he propose? What changed, that he suddenly felt confident enough in Mickey's ability to leave that he felt comfortable formalizing their union?

Maybe it's the simple fact that Mickey did leave. When he felt himself unfairly treated by Ian, he did leave and hooked-up with someone else. Admittedly and obviously in an attempt to get back at Ian, but he stubbornly stuck with it through Ian's various attempts at getting him back. Mickey is utterly in love with and devoted to Ian, but he's no wiltering flower: he will stand up for himself, and if he feels like he's not being treated right, he sure as hell will make certain Ian hears about this. Seeing Mickey standing there over him, returned only now that Ian has satisifed his need for proof of love, I think this is what Ian finally gets. This, in combination with feeling on a very deep and visceral level that he never wants Mickey to walk away and have to return again, is what prompts the proposal.

And hey - maybe he's still not completely sure about this whole getting married business, but he is sure about Mickey, so he's prepared to take the leap. Mickey may be rough in a lot of ways, but he's perfect for Ian in a way that no one else has ever been, and that's worth taking a chance on.

Anyway, this is what I think I think at the moment. Maybe I'll think something else in a while? Do you have thoughts? I'd love to hear them.

TL;DR Everything that happened in 10x09 and 10x10 actually makes sense and are in character, but should I really have to work this hard to get that?

[ameliajessicapond]

i need new people to follow

i have no idea if this is even tumblr Etiquette anymore but im so bored my dash is so slow anyway like this post and i will follow you

i cant promise i'll stay forever but genuinely my dash is so slow these days i am just eccited to look at some NEW STUFF

things i am currently looking for/key words that will hopefully put this on your screen somehow:

critical role

WIDOJEST, specifically

jester lavorre content, more generally

caleb widogast content, more generally

dungeons and dragons

That Gay Shit

specifically, That Bi Shit

SHADOWHUNTERS BOOKS

CHAIN OF GOLD/CHAIN OF IRON/THE LAST HOURS (please none of my friends have read these books and i will never know peace)

okay this is really specific but like, literature memes that are just long text posts with the aim of bullying Byron as he so rightly deserves

shakespeare

mary shelley

jane austen

LYDIA BENNET

shipwrecked comedy!!!!!!

the lizzie bennet diaries in case that wasn't clear already

the raven cycle, the wolves of mercy falls

percy jackson

his dark materials

AMY POND

doctor who (derogatory)

harry potter (DEROGATORY)

harry x hermione, unfortunately, always and forever

mental health memes ig

??????

funny text posts

idk

wait

one direction (derogatory)

harry styles

louis tomlinson

yea im a reformed larry these days but they're just my two faves i swear i like niall just fine too

swan queen, peripherally

once upon a time (slur)

ok bye x

[agapaic]

for prompt, how about an au where guan shan is famous and he tian isn't? (i love your writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️)

25.

‘I heard he’s an asshole. A mean asshole.’

He Tian lights up another cigarette, crouches down on an overturned crate. The back door is propped open with a thick hardback, spine broken and pages ruined and wrinkled from rain and spilled ink, and He Tian indulges in the heaviness of smoke in his throat, breath stolen for just a moment. 

‘You shouldn’t listen to rumour,’ he tells Jian Yi, who is propped against the back wall, worrying at his lip. Jian Yi’s cigarette is dwindling in his fingertips, half-touched, and He Tian forces himself to look away from it. 

‘Hard not to when the guy’s press team is setting up inside your store for a signing.’

‘My brother’s store,’ He Tian reminds him. 

Jian Yi jolts forward. ‘Which makes it worse! Protect the family name! The integrity!’

He Tian smirks, grinds out his cigarette beneath the toe of his shoe, newly shined. ‘He Cheng? Integrity? That would be the day.’ He presses his hands to his knees, pushes himself to his feet with a small sigh. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ 

‘Ready to protect the family honour?’

He Tian rolls his eyes. ‘What little there is of it—I don’t think it needs defending from some celebrity thriller author.’

Jian Yi halts in the doorway. His look is incredulous. ‘Some celebrity? He’s the youngest recipient of the Mao Dun Literature Prize. He’s won it twice.’

There’s a breathless sort of reverence in the words, an adoration He Tian thought the fair man reserved only for one other person. Waxed lyrical like a starving poet first discovering the moon.

He Tian says, ‘I thought you said he was an asshole.’

Without hesitation: ‘Oh, he is. A mean one.’

—

Jian Yi is right: the man is gruff to his staff, dismissive of He Tian’s. He’s hard-tongued to his fans, and delivers his short welcoming speech in clipped tones and the curved accent of someone raised on the backs of city streets. He Tian’s only interaction thus far takes place with the author’s publisher, a sharp-edged, sly man with silver hair and a series of tattoos peeking beneath the rolled-up shirt sleeves.

He Tian watches the proceedings from the upper mezzanine, arms resting on the balcony banister. The bookstore is big, the building inherited from a long line of He’s and, once, housed a group of Literati scholars during the Qing Dynstasy Men and women waiting eagerly in line, copies new and old clutched to their chests, eager for a glimpse at the man who could create such a mastery. Jian Yi stands at He Tian’s side, eyes on the café on the other side of the mezzanine, where Zhengxi stands cleaning the shelves behind the counter, now empty, listening to the voices from below.

His eyes flicker up, and, seeing Jian Yi, he offers a nod, a small wave. Jian Yi looks away, blushing.

‘Really?’ He Tian asks, unable to help himself. ‘Just fuck already.’

Jian Yi’s eyes go wide, silvery and wet with childlike fear, as if he’s just heard the beginnings of creaking from his parent’s bedroom.

‘We haven't—It’s not—Oh, balls…’ He sighs, dramatic and overzealous, a hand pressed to his forehead like a fainting maiden from one of his battered romance novels from the eighties. ‘It isn’t like I don’t want to,’ he hisses, suddenly correcting himself. An almost defence. ‘But Zhan Zhengxi’s…’

'Frigid?’

’Stoic.’

He Tian considers the barista, his dark brows affecting an air of eternal broodiness and a painful duty of thought. Some Byronic figure blessed with dark, philosophical features and bright, cutting eyes. Beneath it, He Tian knows there lies a shadowy, quiet man who is far simpler than the likes of which Jian Yi likes to indulge.

But He Tian leaves him to his fantasies.

Below, Guan Shan is reaching the end of the first wave of guests, those who’d bought tickets for the introductions and a photo pass with the author. He Tian watches as the man states, unflinching, into the camera, flinching each time as a fan presses closer, leans in. There’s a curl to his lip that is purely hostile, and a startled look in his eyes for just a second as the camera flash goes off and He Tian realises that the whole thing is a front.

Guan Shan, he realises, is like most other authors who step over the threshold of the store. Unused to crowds, largely content with their own company, enduring social conventions with an awkward manner that lingers on rude.

‘He doesn’t like this,’ he murmurs.

Jian Yi glances at him. ‘The country’s most famous author doesn’t like going on a tour of adoring fans?’ He shakes his head. ‘Imagine standing on a stage and having a crowd of people singing your songs back at you. The thrill.’

‘Imagine putting your private thoughts and the workings of your mind on show.’ He Tian glances at the publishing representative, the sharkish figure standing towards the back of the store. He has a smile on his face, yellowish eyes glinting in the light. ‘It’s a horror.’

‘It’s money,’ says Jian Yi, a little more practical. ‘I heard he’s got a three-part movie deal for Secondhand Smoke. If it flops, maybe he’ll get a Netflix drama. Maybe a K-drama. He’s set for life.’

More decisions, more executive choices handed over to someone who knows him little and claims a lot. Dreams and secret thoughts set on a screen and gazed at while Guan Shan flinches from the criticism like a camera flash.  

He Tian stops himself—he’s not a writer. He can’t create characters like this, a caricature of a man—a real man—he doesn’t know.

—

He ducks out for a cigarette when the line begins to thin and the sky has grown dark, leaving Jian Yi to watch over the final signings. He won’t get a chance to leave the shop until the early hours of the next morning, stacking away chairs and tables for tomorrow’s opening and reviewing the accounts from the day’s events, a night holed away in the office with straining eyes and a too-dim lamplight Jian Yi has told him to replace a thousand times. 

He hears the door hinges creak, the stomp of boots, an unfamiliar gait. Somehow—he knows.

‘Got one goin’ spare?’

He Tian glances back, unaffected, and then goes still. He’s different up close; the spotlight attached to the wall beside the fire exit adds a softness that none of his author’s portraits have allowed him. There’s an amber glint to his hair, his eyes, a pellucid quality to his skin. Hard callousness gives way to a strange, chipped beauty that He Tian can’t look away from.

He offers up the carton. 

‘Getting tired of handing out your autographs?’ he asks, only lightly mocking. 

‘Just signed the last copy.’ The author’s lip curls, and he takes a cigarette. ‘I hate this shit,’ he says, and then pauses when he props the cigarette between his lips. ‘Don’t tell anyone I said that.’

The corners of He Tian’s mouth quirk. ‘You’re bringing me good business. You can say what you like.’

Mo Guan Shan leans into He Tian’s cupped hands, the flame of He Tian’s lighter snagging on the end of his cigarette until it blooms like a marigold. He kicks a crate over and sets himself down on it.

‘You’re usin’ a copy of Secondhand Smoke to keep your back door open,’ he remarks, unoffended.

He Tian hides a smile. ‘It’s hefty,’ he says. ‘And we ordered too many copies.’

‘A bookstore with an accidental surplus,’ says Mo Guan Shan. ‘What a luxury. Guess you’re doin’ pretty fuckin’ well from where I’m lookin’.’ He leans back, smoke tendrils drifting upwards. ‘Oldest independent bookstore in Beijing, and you haven’t sold the place out to Suning or Yonghui or some other corporate shit like the rest of ‘em.’

‘The building belongs to my family,’ says He Tian, a finite note to his voice. 

‘I know. My publicist gave me some background.’ Mo Guan Shan glances back. ‘Guessin’ there’s some stories to be told in these walls.’

‘You’d be writing forever if you set yourself to writing about my family.’

There’s a pause, and then, ‘Okay. You got archives?’

He Tian leans back. He considers what the man is saying, what he’s offering. It’s not much, not a promise—but it’s something. And that something starts to warm behind his ribs, a ball of air in his throat that feels like panic.

‘If you come in tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll try and get them for you. But no promises.’

The writer shrugs, stamps out the dwindling cigarette from beneath his shoe, and gets to his feet. ‘See you tomorrow then, Mr He.’

He Tian glances back to watch him leave, the slight set of the man’s shoulders disappearing into the store, the door thudding against the beaten copy of his most famous work. A shift, and He Tian murmurs, ‘See you tomorrow, Mr Mo.’

—

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