#i was especially not enthused about it be after several days came up with a compromise that suited us both

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Apparently the solution to our housing problem is for me to never be excited about anything ever 🙃

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (10/30/2024) Episode: An Evening of Contests

After a morning spent gaming and learning indoors, Luigi’s family and their foundation friends were ready to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine.

He’d prepared a fun and wholesome event to cap off the foundation livestream, gathering everyone on a nearby beach. Isra, who still worked at the Observe to Conserve foundation took point, explaining a bit of the conservation work they did, and also specifically how trash left on the beach by careless Sims could harm not just the beauty of the environment, but also the health of the native plants and animals living there.

Then she and Luigi showed off a collection of prizes. They divided the attendees into small groups and promised first choice of prizes to whichever group collected the most trash over the next hour or so.

The kids of various ages were excited to roam up and down the beach, picking up anything that didn’t belong and collecting inventories full of trash they hoped to exchange for priority access to one prize or another they had liked.

Some of them, especially the younger ones, were perhaps a bit more distracted exploring the pretty beach than cleaning it, but Isra had experience with this. As they got closer to the designated time she made regular announcements, and by the last 5 minutes everyone was clustered around the last few uncleaned feet of beach hunting for last minute “treasures”.

Yoshi collected great footage of it all, including Isra’s little awards ceremony and her final pitch for the kids to keep Sulani Beautiful as they left.

After the kids dispersed with their winnings, Luigi headed back to the gaming center where he had arranged to meetup with Professor Silva.

He wasn’t the only one looking forward to seeing his old faculty mentor.  A number of his old Foxbury E-Sports teammates came too, engaging in an impromptu mini-tourney. Much to the chagrin of the professional e-sports players there, Luigi’s college fling Jade won the day.

Yoshi was taking a charging break, but Skye captured several pictures of his father’s defeat, not that Lawbourne senior was too broken up about his loss. “Some of my fondest memories are playing games with you guys at the University commons, and this was a great walk down memory lane!”

“If you’re up for more reminiscing, the E-Sports team has their big game coming up in just a few hours” Professor Silva mentioned. “I’d love for you all to head back to campus with me and cheer on my current crew; maybe pick out your favorites for the Rainy Day internship program?”

Noemi and several others were only too happy to spin into their winter wear and teleport to the stadium at their old Alma Mater.

“Your mom and I made so many great memories here” Luigi told his son as they walked through campus. “When you’re old enough we should take the college tour so you can see everything Foxbury has to offer.” Skye nodded shyly, not wanting to disappoint his parents, but in truth the big, cold lot intimidated him. He wasn’t so sure about this whole “university” thing.

The game was well worth the price of admission. The two teams were neck and neck all evening, but in the end, for the first time in a long time, Foxbury won the day. “You did it – congrats man!” Luigi enthused to his old mentor as they were leaving the stadium.

 “Thank you for supporting the team,” Coach Silva replied, “I’ve got to get back to my champions, but your advice and help made a big difference.”

By the time the game ended it was quite late, but no one wanted to go to bed without ringing in the new year. To that end they made their way back to the gaming center to end the evening in style. 

“Shushubie… shushubie… Fleeba Zoob!” the large group of Luigi’s favorite sims cried as the New Year’s countdown ticked over to midnight.

A recharged Yoshi was cruising the crowd with the other streaming cameras, capturing the celebration as everyone thanked their viewers for contributing to the big fundraiser earlier in the day. With hugs all around, and a strange question from Skye about how long teeth took to digest (where, Luigi wondered, did kids get these ideas!?) the large happy family started the new year off right: with a dance party of course.

Luigi didn’t know how things would look a year from now, but it seemed unlikely he’d be able to top that day’s accomplishments.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. ix

Travelers. Friends. Mutuals. @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @the-private-eye @demonic-panini @gwenlena

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. MOTHERLY VOICE: I finally got a moment to myself thanks to Eber and Camilla… Thank the Goddess… I don’t know what I would be doing without them. (THE PERSON SIGHS) Where do I begin? I guess… my name would be a good start.  (CLEARING THEIR THROAT) My name is Eevee Bell, and I am one of three to four dozen Dome Wardens on Brahma. Our duty is to perform routine maintenance on the planet’s Dome, track incoming and outgoing shuttles and ships, and monitor Brahma’s severe weather outside the Dome. I love my job. I think I do my job very well. From what I’ve heard about other planets, they have robotics and computers to do this job now. Artificial intelligence that the Solar Planets spent a fortune to perfect. Of course just like with everything else though, Brahma gets left behind in the dust. (EEVEE CHUCKLES UNDER HER BREATH) EEVEE: Goddess bless our savior New Kinshasa. (EEVEE LAUGHS A BIT HARSHER) EEVEE: What happened to us though has been brewing under their noses for some time now. I guess it was only a matter of time before… something was done.  To be honest I’m still not entirely sure what did happen. I know that our alarms went off when the Reactor Core was removed, and I know they stopped going off when the Core was put back. I know that the Chief Constable called all of our stations, and ordered us to go home. I know that we have not gone back to our stations for nearly ten days. I know that if we don’t accept any imports within the next seven days Brahma will begin to suffer. And if we fall, New Kinshasa falls with us.  Cyrus called me while I was rushing to get home to Baird. He asked me how much I knew and after I told him, I asked how much he knew. He said it would be better if he came to speak to me in person. He lives across town with Iris. I told him it wouldn’t be wise to meet up so late, especially with a curfew in place. He disagreed, but I talked enough sense into him that he waited until morning to catch a tram over here to the apartments.  Baird was not enthused to see him. He was rather… indifferent, actually. I know it hurt Cyrus’ feelings, I do plan on talking about it with Baird when I can, but it’s so hard to talk about anything seriously right now. I’d rather keep things as light-hearted as possible.  I sent Baird over to Camilla and Eber’s apartment while I had tea with Cyrus. He looked so worried. He asked me if I saw the Chief Constable’s broadcast about the Revolutionary, Peter Nureyev. I have. I watched it with Baird the night before after I got home from my post. Cyrus said that he doesn’t know of any Peter Nureyevs in any of his revolution circles.  He surprised me by asking me for my thoughts about the Constable they allegedly found murdered by the Revolutionary. I didn’t at the time, and I still don’t now. Cyrus said that he has reason to believe that part was a lie. He doesn’t believe the Revolutionary killed a Constable. He thinks it might be an elaborate lie or cover-up for some more vain truth. (EEVEE INHALES SHARPLY) The revolutionaries are holding a meeting tonight. Cyrus invited me to come. He wants me there. I don’t want to get in trouble, but… I need to keep Cyrus and Baird safe. And by extension, it’s my job to keep Brahma safe.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS: EEVEE:  What the fuck! NEW VOICE:  What are you doing? EEVEE:  What am I doing I’m recording you idiot! Cyrus, don’t you see? If what was discussed tonight has any truth to it, New Kinshasa isn’t going to let any of this get out. More than– I bet you my next paycheck that Dark Matters is going to play a role in covering it all up! (CYRUS TRIES TO SHUSH EEVEE) CYRUS:  Alright, alright– you have a point. Keep your voice down alright the streets have ears… You really hope your little comms though is going to play a role in– This? EEVEE: Mark my word, I think my little comms will outlive both of us. If Baird’s lucky it will outlive them.  (CYRUS GROANS. EEVEE GIGGLES) Okay, okay… I attended the meeting– CYRUS: The book club. We went to a late-night book club meeting. What? Don’t give me that look. Plausible deniability, Eve. EEVEE:  Right. The Book Club. We attended Book Club and talked about the climax of a war story. In the story, the main character kills a man with radical ideas to overthrow their government. The man he killed was not popular amongst the rebels. In theory, they should have agreed with him. CYRUS: In practice, however, the rebels do not condone murdering hundreds of thousands of people. Thus the whole unpopular amongst the rebels.  EEVEE:  Of course, word got out about the man’s death, and to cover it up, the government claimed him as an Enforcer. And they were getting away with it because the last clothes the man was found in was a stolen Enforcer uniform.  I don’t know if I believe the rebel or the government’s of the story– CYRUS: Eve– EEVEE: But! But. But I do believe that it was the right call for the rebels to sit back and wait for information to trickle out to them slowly… I think I’ll need to attend the next meeting to really make sure I understand what I’m getting myself into. Oh– I’m so tired. Can we discuss all this in the morning? With hopefully less ears listening in? (CYRUS HUMS AFFIRMATIVELY) CYRUS: I’ll even let you sleep in if you let me crash on your couch.  EEVEE: Of course, I wouldn’t make you walk across town while already breaking our curfew.  CYRUS: Thanks, Eve.  (LONG PAUSE) Baird’s not going to be mad to see me, is he? EEVEE: This late at night? I doubt it. If anything he’s staying over at that Spade’s apartment probably fast asleep with Charlie. Oh, they’re so sweet together. I went to say good night to them one evening and I couldn’t kiss Baird’s head because Charlie had a death grip on his shoulders. He's always polite and entertains all of Baird’s whims… I wish you were around more to see it happen. CYRUS:  You and I both know why that can’t happen.  (BOTH OF THEM SIGH) EEVEE: You know he’s only so pouty around you because you and I split up, right? He just wants us all together again. Like a proper family. CYRUS: We are a proper family. Mom who works too hard, dad who left to get milk and never came back– see? Proper family. (EEVEE LAUGHS CAUSING CYRUS TO LAUGH) UNFAMILIAR VOICE: Hey, state your business and show your credentials. CYRUS: Shit, Constables. Run Eve! SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. RECORDING BEGINS.  (EEVEE WHISPERS) EEVEE: Cyrus and I got away from the Constables last week perfectly fine. This week on Brahma: we went to another revolution meeting. A few old timers took roll call and one of them said he had reason to believe that the person the Angel of Brahma killed was one of theirs. A man who wasn’t the least bit popular in any particular revolutionary circle. Apparently, he wanted to drop New Kinshasa out of the sky and saw it perfectly fit to kill all of Brahma in the process.  (EEVEE SCOFFS) The nerve of some people. No one at the meeting could remember his name though, and no one still knows who Peter Nureyev is outside of the photos projected on every billboard on the planet now. He looks so young. Those dark and haunting eyes and sharp teeth. I find it hard to believe that he’s just a teenager. But– he is.  I’m trying to keep my voice down right now because Baird is asleep. The meeting was held before curfew this time so Cyrus went home to Iris and I walked alone back to the apartment. Eber was waiting for me just outside and before I could say hello he was dragging me down the halls to Hank’s apartment. His dog Missy was sprawled out on the sofa but Hank, Camilla, and Josie were all gathered around the dinner table. Mrs. Darius was upstairs with Talia, Charlie, and Baird. I sat down and told them everything I could.  The revolutionaries wouldn’t let me record anything with my comms during the meeting, but there wasn’t much that I think needed to be recorded. Just talk about who was storing what, who was leaving their doors open to help others. There was a lot of talk about going on strike. Either food or labor. They want to send a message to New Kinshasa. I don’t think I can afford to do much of anything. Me and the other Dome Wardens just went back to work two days ago, we are working through a backlog of off-planet imports and exports still. If I strike alone I’ll just be fired. If all the Wardens strike, then the Constables will take over and that will lead to certain catastrophe. And if I stop eating then Baird will stop eating and he’s already so… short.  Oh– I wish I got a chance to talk to Cyrus before we went our separate ways. He’d help me think of some way I can help. Better yet, he’d probably be able to give the others here at the apartments the answers they wanted from me. Hank didn’t say anything other than telling us to get out. Eber, Camilla, Josie, and I were silent on the walk upstairs. The kids were delighted to see us. Eber walked Talia back down to Hank, Josie was trying to fill in Mrs. Darius, and Camilla and I watched the boys play some sort of game where they kept pinching each other and trying to not shriek? I think that was the objective? Children’s games used to be much less violent when I was that age. I remember when– BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Memma? EEVEE: Bairdy! What are you doing awake? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I couldn’t sleep. You were being too loud.  (EEVEE TSKS) EEVEE: Then let’s put you back to bed alright baby? C’mon. I’ll even sing for you if you’d like.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: I have either made the best decision of the revolution that will turn the tides in favor of Brahma, or the worst mistake of my life.  I told the old-timers at this past meeting that I work as a Dome Warden, and that a few of my colleagues seemed interested in joining the rebellion but were uncertain on how to go about it. The old-timers were delighted for a number of reasons and had drawn the same conclusion that I had a few weeks ago when a labor strike was first brought up. They think it would be very good if I was able to get some of the other Wardens on board with the revolution.  Cyrus was very quiet during the meeting. I asked him before we left if he had any opinions he was holding back, and all he said was to trust my gut. So… I trusted my gut. I told the other Wardens at my post about the meetings. I told them about going on strike. A few seemed skeptical. Others wanted to know when the next meeting was. I’m going to contact Cyrus and get him to help me get the others to the next meeting.  I hope… this wasn’t a mistake. I guess time will only tell. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: –you turned it on. Good job, baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Mom, why are you showing me how to use your comms? Is something going to happen to us? Is something bad going to happen to you?  EEVEE: What? Oh no, baby. Nothing is going to happen to me. I just think you would find more use out of my comms than I would. Look, since you got it to record you can start recording all those little songs you like to sing. Or maybe you can get Charlie to record a story for you.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): But Mom, I like your singing and your stories more. Will you sing for me? And tell me a story tonight? EEVEE: Absolutely not. You get one or the other. Take your pick. And whatever you don’t choose, you have to give to me.  (BAIRD POUTS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… I want a story from you, and then I’ll give you a song. EEVEE:  Good choice, Bairdy. What kind of story would you like? (BAIRD HUMS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I want a story about Brahma.  EEVEE: A story about Brahma? Well… there once was a boy born on Brahma with nothing. Not even a name. He grew up just like everyone else, hungry for more. More food, more freedom, more time. The boy followed a man who dreamed of dropping the New Kinshasa on top of the planet.  The boy was very tired. Tired of being poor, tired of being hungry, tired of being alone. But he knew, that if he let that man drop New Kinshasa out of the sky, he would never be able to forgive himself. Brahma is his home. He looked down at Brahma from up high, and saw them: his people.  Starving young faces just like his looked up to the sky and stared back at the city as it trembled. The boy had the power at his fingertips to stop a tragedy.  This is it. The people thought. This is how we go out. Not with the big bang, but crushed under the heel of our jailor.  The boy heard their thoughts. He felt a rush of adrenaline and stopped the man from getting away. The city of New Kinshasa never fell out of the sky that day. The people were ordered to retreat to their homes. But that evening, everyone heard about the great threat against the Guardian Angel System. And everyone learned the name Peter Nureyev. And for the first time in the last half-century, hope bloomed on Brahma. The Boy, The Legend, The Angel of Brahma.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): That’s not a story Memma, that’s history.  EEVEE: And what is history but a story we have to learn from? Now, I believe you owe me a song. (BAIRD GROANS AND HUFFS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… (BAIRD TAKES A DEEP BREATH AND HUMS. THE SOUND GETS CLEARER LIKE HE’S BROUGHT THE COMMS CLOSER) My angel, I must ask you keep singing for me.  How sweet your tune, like a songbird at noon.  What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. O’ My heart overflows, I could never let go.  Like chimes in the wind, it must be destined.  I’ll find my way home, with your voice I’ll never be alone. Happy? (EEVEE SNIFFLES) EEVEE: Very. Thank you, Baird. That was beautiful.  (FABRIC RUSTLES, BOTH BAIRD AND EEVEE HUM) Promise me you’ll never stop singing baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Of course, Memma. I don’t think I could even if I tried.  EEVEE: Good. Now– (EEVEE PRESSES A KISS TO BAIRD’S HEAD) Get some sleep. Okay? We have a long day tomorrow. And Bairdy? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Yes, Mom? EEVEE: You know that I love you, right? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): To the moons and back, yeah… Mom you promised nothing bad was going to happen to you.  EEVEE:  And nothing will. Good night, Baird.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Night Mom.  SOUND: DOOR CLOSING. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Which button was it to end the recording? Was it this o– SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

- EEVEE BELL. BAIRD BELL. must contact Frannie’s friend about both of those names. - Dome Wardens are indeed an old, out of date job. Eve is right, they’ve been replaced with robots. It’s actually kinda scary how right she was about things. About that, about Dark Matters probably covering everything up with New Kinshasa. - Cyrus and Eve sound so fun together. I can see why they got married and had a kid together. - Bairdy and Memma… right up there with Charls and Dearest. - Oh Baird, he was 12 when these recordings were made. 12. Just almost a teenager, not quite. Almost too old to be called a baby. - Eve loved Baird so much. She reminds me of my mother a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing tucking Baird into bed that final time. There’s no doubt in my mind this is the last recording with her in it. She was taken away after this and never came back. The Dome Wardens did go on strike at some point according to Baird in other recordings, so did someone snitch to a Constable? Did she the Constable that almost caught her and Cyrus track her down? - I think that’s the most frustrating part of my job. No matter how much I dig and research, there are some things that will be lost to me forever.

[garden-of-omegas]

⚜ FIRST MEETING [AYAKASHI - DAWN FACTION] ⚜

┌── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

characters: koga kitamikado | kuya | ginnojo | aoi | yura summary: the details of your first meeting with your future mate. warnings: referenced death (this will become a theme), talk of eating habits rating: sfw a/n: ah, my dear secretive babies are here~ you have no idea how much i've spent raging over the lack of communication in this game, but i still love these idiots. expect some of that lack of communication in later parts for them.

~🎕

└── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

≿━━━━༺❀ koga kitamikado ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were the only child of a famous art-dealer and an ushi-oni. living life as a half-ayakashi has been hard, especially as one so volatile. you're often found at the piers alone, with a scowl on your face. recently, strange things began to happen around you.

✿ you were 22, while koga was 24. it'd been 8 years since your mother died, and 8 years since koga's parents died. neither of you had quite been the same since, just in different ways.

✿ you'd been out, brooding at the piers, staring at the comings and goings of the ships. your father was... around, somewhere, waiting on an another shipment that was coming in. that was probably why koga was there, to buy whatever was coming in. and via whatever link that you shared, he noticed you and was drawn to talk to you. though you weren't particularly enthused about this fact.

✿ koga didn't really mean to keep showing up in your day-to-day life, but he was a client of your father's and a well-known figure around the capital. and every time your paths crossed he attempted to hold a conversation, which you eventually got tired of rebuking. it didn't take long after that for your onmyoji powers to manifest and his true nature to be revealed.

✿ koga thought you most interesting. something about him was drawn to you, not only due to how lonely you seemed. he didn't like seeing people be lonely in the first place, but you especially he never wanted to see unhappy. to his unfortune, you seemed to always be that. you, admittedly, found koga to be compelling. or at least your soul did. you on the other hand mostly found him increasingly annoying with his attempts to talk to you. that, added with the constant strangeness surrounding you... well, it made you a bit grumpy about him to say the least.

≿━━━━༺❀ kuya ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were the only child of a famous art-dealer and a futakuchi-onna. your mother had incited a deep seated love for food in you (despite your "small" appetite) which lead to you apprenticing at many restaurants around the capital.

✿ you were 22, as was kuya. you'd been apprenticing at various restaurants around the city for six years, two years prior to that your mother had died. kuya was freeloading at koga's, as expected.

✿ kuya and koga had reservations at a restaurant you were apprenticing at. you were assigned as their chef, which was a problem as you'd recently begun to feel hungry, which is when your ayakashi-form is the most prone to appearing. after several incidents of almost getting caught (and having to stuff your second mouth with a tablecloth), kuya spared you by insisting that they leave.

✿ you weren't actually certain if kuya had picked up on your... strangeness, but when he came by a second time (alone) and asked for you to serve him again you were fairly certain he had. he didn't pry into it though, and simply became a regular at the place and a couple of others you often worked at.

✿ kuya found you weird, mostly. but fascinating for the bits he was actually awake for. you were quiet, didn't try and disturb him, and besides your sometimes odd behaviour you were cute. and maybe he was inexplicably drawn to you, but who's to say to that. kuya was so so nice. you didn't know if he meant to be, but he was. his visits often allowed you to calm down your more base urges in privacy, as he spent most of his time sleeping while visiting, which made your life far more easier than it'd ever been. he truly entered your life at a perfect time.

≿━━━━༺❀ ginnojo ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were the only child of a famous art-dealer and a nure-onna. you were often found around the city helping around children and animals. you're pretty known around the capital for watching over all the children and protecting them.

✿ you were 26, around the same age as ginnojo would be if he was human. dragon's age so strangely. it'd been over two decades since your mother died.

✿ you'd been organizing a little reading nook in the park, where you would be reading for the younger kids and the older kids could find books that they liked. so, you were scouring every bookstore in the city until eventually you ended up at ginnojo's. it was a very strange visit, as ginnojo was far too nervous to actually talk to you the whole time, but you found the best books there so your search ended in success.

✿ after the first time, you started frequenting his shop as it had the best collection of books you'd come across. that, and they all seemed oddly impervious to all the rain that happened when you happened upon a bad mood. ginnojo however did not get any better at actually talking to you.

✿ ginnojo found you attractive. it was as simple as that. you were an attractive alpha, and he had no idea how to interact with any part of that. not to mention, something about you seemed familiar. he couldn't place it, but he was sure that it was important. that you were important. ginnojo was very cute. he barely said a word to you, but you could tell that at least. and he felt like a kindred spirit in some sense. you couldn't really put your finger on it, so you mostly dismissed it as a crush on a cute omega. but it did nag you a little bit.

≿━━━━༺❀ aoi ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were the only child of a famous art-dealer and a baku. after your mother's death, you were tasked with her duties to look after the city and their dreams, which made you appear rather lazy, though endearing to the general population.

✿ you were 17 at the time, a year older than aoi. your mother had died exactly a decade prior, while aoi had been in the capital for almost two years.

✿ you were sleeping at the river bank, though really you were "working". aoi came to the same river bank to sketch, noticed you, and decided to sketch you. that night, while you were working again, you happened upon a dream that featured... you. that's how the two of you became aware of each other, but it wasn't until the next day that the two of you actually met at the river bank.

✿ the two of you would often "meet up" at the river, where you would get on with your individual work. the two of you rarely talked, but seeing as you were sleeping most of the time it wasn't a surprise. but it was a nice routine, that neither of you wanted to break.

✿ aoi found you very vexing. but also pretty, which made you a rather effective muse for his work. but you were still asleep almost every time he saw you, which he absolutely hated. at first anyways. weirdly enough, after a while he didn't much mind anymore. something about aoi made his dreams in particular very appealing to you. after the first night, you realized you'd visited his dreams plenty of times before, even for non-nightmare purposes. his subconsciousness drew you to him for some reason.

≿━━━━༺❀ yura ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were the only child of a famous art-dealer and an akurojin-no-hi. you were most known for your habit of walking around the city on rainy nights, something you inherited from your mother. you think so, anyways.

✿ you were a mere 20 years old, though often you felt like you were far older. being basically just a living soul, you were extremely close to your past lives. yura was over a thousand, though technically to him you'd already met a long time ago.

✿ you were on one of your usual walks, it was a night and it was raining. everyone who knew you was expecting it. what no one expected, not even you, was the compulsion to head for the mountains. there, you ended up at a temple, and the two twins there saw you and invited you inside. something made you take that offer, even though similar ones had been made a million times before and you'd accepted none.

✿ after that you often ended up at the shrine, sometimes unintentionally, sometimes not. sometimes it wasn't even during a rainy night. regardless, you ever only accepted yura's offers to come inside from the rain.

✿ yura realized right away who you were, someone he had loved so dearly in the past had come back to him. his dear alpha. you didn't recognize him, but just being near you was enough for him, feeling your warm flames. yura felt like home, strangely enough. you felt like you knew him, like you should know him. you concluded that it was your soul who knew him, and that was why you let him invite you inside. so, you let your soul guide you back to him whenever it desired.

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Give a Mouse a Snake

Meet Mickey Mouses worst fear, his daughters pet that she casually bought in Peru in the 80s back when Wildlife trade laws did not exist and he wasn't paying attention to his 8 year old.

.

.

The camera crew followed her paused as they walked past an absolutely massive enclosure, it was full of plants and even had a massive pond and rivers. It looked like a miniature copy of the Amazon Rainforest, they could hardly see where the enclosure ended and the glasses they were standing in front of had to be at least 500 ft it was clearly a massive staple of the home,

"So Eleanor what is this for?" The director stopped, Mickey swallowing as he eyed the place, she however gave an innocent smile, bouncing on the balls of her feet,

"Anyone got a phobia of reptiles?" The humans looked at each other, not sure how to answer, she shrugged,

"Exits that way if your frightened....do not need a repeat of Kim Kardashian when she met Buddy," she didn't miss her dad sneaking his way towards the archway, before she turned to the glass, tapping in a specific gentle manner

"Ohhhh Buddy! Come here my handsome boy, we have some guests that wish to meet you," after a moment cracking came from deep inside of plants being run over by something large, the noise slowly coming ever closer until at the edge of the forest a massive head appeared, she grinned wider cooing"There you are"

The humans instantly took several steps back, the cameraman trying to keep the camera steady as an absolutely massive snake slithered out meandering his way to the glass as she put a hand to it,

"T-thats a-a ," The director swallowed having gone pale,

"A green anaconda?" Her hand phased through the glass in a show of magic, allowing the snake to nudge it, "Yes a handsome boy from the Country of Peru,"

"My God he's massive, that has to be the largest snake I've ever seen!" One crowed the shock having worn off he seemed actually interested, she turned smiling and nodding

"Buddy holds the world record of being the largest anaconda in captivity. We think the Disney Magic accidently had something to do with that but when weighed he weighs 754 pounds has a girth of around 66 inches and is 32 feet long. I made this terrarium for him it took 2 years to complete in the meantime Dad played nice with me and allowed him to stay at Animal Kingdom."

"Dear God" one person fainted, she sighed shaking her head,

"Buddy has been hand reared since the day he was hatched on a plane heading home from Peru, I checked my suitcase and this little head popped out at me. I was so happy and excited Dad" She motioned making them realize the Mickey Mouse had skittered quickly from the space"Was not so enthused, especially for years later when buddy had quadrupled in size and he did not listen....Buddy about made him lunch, but honestly once I got Buddy sedated he realized and was only being a bit of an ass to scare my dad."

The snake had curled up, now trying to look adorable she snorted,

"Yeah you know what you did you naughty boy. You traumatized the Mickey Mouse, not many can say that," she shook her head as he tried rolling over like a hognose,"What am I going to do with you, you absolute ham."

She looked back to the crew who looked dumbfounded once more,

"Like I said Disney Magic may be at play here, he's a bit more...aware then actual normal snakes, but so I don't have people worried he does have a care team of about six people that comes to see him every other day they have access to the house normal billionaires show off their wealth by having the brightest flashiest newest thing... me I prefer the Victorian way having an animal that nobody else has,"

[lumierecharity]

Miraculous medal, front and back

Luky:

THE SEVENTH of November has always been a red letter day in my life, as it marks the birthday of a near and dear one. When she was small she'd be counting the weeks and days leading up to it for months, giving us no chance to forget it.

One year's birthday was probably a lot different. As mother (at the time) of two and expecting her third child in another six months' time, she had enough to occupy her mind.

All the same, I phoned her that morning and she enthused about the lovely gifts her husband had brought her.

Unsuspecting

I on my side had good news too. My own husband, having successfully got over his operation, was coming home the next morning. We mutually expressed our pleasure and rang off.

Little did I know then that I was about to remember November the 7th for quite a different reason.

Just before ten that morning one of the matrons of the local hospital telephoned me. My husband was back in the intensive care unit of the surgical ward, she said, and she was sure I'd be wanting to see him to encourage him as soon as I could.

A nod is as good as a kick to a willing horse, so I went to my boss and got permission to go to the hospital.

Plugged in

Having arrived there I found my husband lying on a bed, tubes and bottles attached to several parts of his body. He was barely able to speak but the matron had explained to me that he had either got a clot in the lung, known a a pulmonary embolism, or in the heart; called a coronary thrombosis.

He had complained of a very severe pain across his chest. "I've nursed Mr Whittle for years", the matron said, "and I know him well enough to be aware that by the time he finally complains there is something seriously wrong."

Strong friend

I can't tell you how kind everyone was. As parents of one of the hospital's student nurses at the time, we received VIP treatment.

My old neighbour grabbed me as I was leaving the hospital on my way to I know not where and steered me back to the ward. She's a nursing sister and midwife and was a tower of strength to me in the eight years we lived next door to each other. It was like living next door to my doctor.

Complicated prang

When I pranged my car that morning, trying to get out of a parking place, three men helped to liberate me. If you gave me five thousand rand to repeat what I must have done to steer my car into such a position, I'd have to decline because I just don't understand how I managed it.

Please pray

Early next morning I telephoned my sister. My husband was on the critical list and my brother-in-law came to the phone and asked what he could do.

"Take all your children to church now on their way to school and have them pray a Hail Mary for their uncle", I pleaded.

He did that and more. That afternoon as I arrived again at the hospital, he was sitting outside my husband's ward. He had taken the day off and spent four hours driving my mother and sister to see me. I've always thought that man was a jewel; now I have proof.

My mother stayed and looked after the children for the next few days, much of which I spent as hospital.

It's good to have a family.

More to come

A second clot was to pass through my husband's lung before his agony was over. I received a letter from my colleagues at the office; all of them had gone into one office and prayed together for my husband's recovery. Everybody was praying, especially the lady who worked for us. 

"I was so scared Mr Whittle was dying", she said.

The younger children, aware of the tension, became unbearable, looking for attention, arguing and quarrelling and crying hysterically over nothing.

Interesting incident

The day I knew things would improve I was seated in a little room outside the intensive care unit, talking to my daughter. I had been given permission to look in at my husband on the half-hour.

She had taken off her miraculous medal and handed it to me to put round her father's neck.

We were talking and I was gesticulating with the hand which held the medal. Suddenly I looked down on my knee, and there to my astonishment I found that the chain had arranged itself into the shape of that peculiar broad flat "M" on the back of the miraculous medal.

People have laughed at my assertions of miracles all my life so I said nothing about it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken.

'That's odd", I said to my daughter, "What does this remind you of?"

"The M on the back of the miraculous medal", she said. "And look next to it, that's a heart shape, also found on the back of the medal."

"Your father will be all right now", I said after marvelling for a little while, and handed her back her chain. "He won't need this."

I went into the ward and spoke to the heart specialist.

"Your husband is improving", he informed me, "though he's not out of danger yet."

It was all I could do not to tell him he was wrong. With such a powerful patroness as our Lady showing her very personal concern, I knew that no power on earth could prevent my husband from recovering.

Catherine Nicolette

Dad went on to make an uneventful recovery - an amazing turnaround as he had been critically ill. I have great devotion to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and both Mom and I received much comfort from the configuration of the chain. Do I believe this was a sign from God? The comfort I received when I saw the symbols of holiness was deep. In that moment I knew: all will be well.

Having been witness to many signs and wonders from God throughout my life, I would encourage you to look out in your own life for those moments in which God is present with comfort and hope.

The Miraculous Medal is a holy devotion which brings special spiritual protection and comfort. Why not find out more?

Visit for petition to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal

at https://lumierecharitymarian.blogspot.com/2017/08/petition-to-our-lady-of-miraculous-medal.html

[rotshop]

*slams into your inbox* I just read through mag reader and Deimos headcanons again and I love it. I would def be interested in seeing more! (Also are you sure you don’t wanna hold his hand? Even just a little?) -Echo

gonna do a funney little mix of ideas here ,,,,, lol ,,,,,,,, also yes i am sure <333 i go 'hey check out this funny fish' and then i hold his head underwater.

[ tw brief, light violence, body horror and gore / blood ]

context

auditor + mag s/o ;

-OK OK HEAR ME OUT .

-you weren't originally an aahw project. while they're definitely the biggest company of sorts around there's still a few others that are like them but not exactly them hanging around nevada. you happened to be in some facility they decided to raid due to them having some possibly useful information regarding the anti-aahw . she's definitely a little less than enthused to get a call from her agents that she should come check this out but ,, when she lays her eyes on u that immediately melts away

-he's VERY very curious about you. keeps you close which is kind of nice bc it means you're treated pretty well but also it means a lot of being watched. audi just has like. a habit of unconsciously ''''''''studying'''''''' you. they're always noting little behaviors of yours down mentally and asking you little questions abut how you came to be and what abilities you hold.

-believe it or not he actually DOESN'T want you in fights. she knows you're incredibly capable but the thought of you getting too involved in a bunch of clawing and tearing again makes her get uneasy. she just prefers for you to stay by her side, with the excuse that you're a body guard of sorts for her (you aren't, she's got several other, more disposable mags that serve that role just fine.).

-HOWEVER. there is one time where he doesn't get an option in that. a few contractees and dissenters attempted a raid on the base audi was at, hoping to try and get some sort of bargaining chip to make deal with. before they can even really attempt to try and land some sort of hit on them you're already pouncing on the nearest grunt, blood already spurting and painting the walls red in mere seconds of your arrival. it honest to god shocks her into stillness, her just watching motionlessly the entire time, only really moving once to dodge some limb you'd mindlessly thrown her way after tearing it from its socket. WHILE SHE IS IMPRESSED ,,, she still scolds you a little for being reckless while trying to scrub the blood off of you with a wet rag, huffing that 'you could've gotten seriously hurt' if you were any less careful >:/

-however he does do the thng where he like. cups both sides of your face and then presses his forehead against yours. you have to lean down a lot for him to do so but still. sighs a little while brushing his thumb under your eyes and tells you to be more careful from now on.

-auditor is not immune to favoritism and it shows. someone brings it up (shakily, of course) and she just shrugs and goes 'idk what you're talking abt' while petting you who's got your head on her lap. said person promptly gets 'dismissed' after.

-hates whenever anyone tries to put some kind of muzzle on you, even if its just for the jaw dislocation thingy it still makes him go kind of '>:|' . he'll let them for like. a day at MOST (unless you keep trying to get it off, then chances are he's just gonna take it off for you. nobody really bothers asking / trying to get it back on you bc he just sends them a sharp little glare before they even can. if you REALLY need it that bad then he might try and convince you to keep it on a little longer or otherwise take your mind of it, he still feels really bad about it tho . )

sanford + mag s/o ;

- :)

-you two knew each other before he dissented / you became a mag. worked pretty close together and were just close in general !! you didn't know dei super super well since he worked in a different area but you two met a few times and hit it off pretty well.

-anyway ! he doesn't take your magnification well. at all. the first few times he saw you after it were the worst, mostly because those few times were primarily because you were lashing out at agents for one reason or another (mostly maltreatment from guards / people being shitty in general) . for the first while its so obvious that you're just exhausted from what's happened to your body that was NOT meant to become this, that you're tired and on edge from not being allowed any real rest. it makes him feel fucking terrible to see how awful of a state you're in and know that there's next to nothing he can really do to help.

-it especially hits him when he notices the other little changes. there's some specific moment where he's holding onto you far too tightly, clutching at the back of your jacket while he does his best to keep composed. you always had this habit of giving a half jokey hum of some stupid little joke or even just a 'what's wrong, big guy?' whenever he seemed off or tense, he can't help but make note of the lack of real response from you in the moment other than you wrapping your arms around him as well. another time, maybe he tries to make some little inside joke after something reminded him of it, looking back at you with a little smile. it hits him with a special punch to the gut when he notices your confusion, you just can't recognize it. you don't remember it anymore. you don't remember a lot of your old self or interactions anymore.

-you two end up getting split up at one point or another. orginally, he'd planned to run away with you and deimos buut,,, one way or another, you weren't really able to get out. he goes looking for you a bunch but eventually he has to stop when it gets to be too much and he can't find any real sign of you, he's quiet for a long time after it.

-HOWEVER . he does eventually find you in some abandoned warehouse him and the others had planned to look for supplies in. the entire time he's in there he keeps hearing sounds he thinks are just dei or hank but every time he asks or comments on it they just give him a look of confusion or a little 'what are you talking about?' it puts him really on edge, it's worse when he's in one of the further corners, digging through a few boxes and desperately trying to ignore how much it feels like someones there. anyway umm lol its just you ,,,, ehe . it takes him a solid minute to process that its you but as soon as it clicks he's yelling your name and running up to hug you. doesn't even stop to think that you could totally tear him a new one right then and there he's just too happy to see you. dei and hank both come rushing over after hearing him, dei recognizes you too and is just kinda 'oh hey !! friend !! :D' while hank stands there and just kinda stares.

-is able to take you back to base without too much argument from the others. he does his best to fill you in on everything that's happened in hopes you'll explained what happened on your part too. even if you don't he can't be too upset since he's just too gd happy to see you again ,,,, chances are you stick around him a lot . deimos is nice but u don't remember him super well and hank makes you uneasy lmao . its ok he thinks its funny though, just laughs a little whenever you stand in his doorway in silence until he notices you :)

[corpse-of-bandersnatch]

That's the whole interview with Jeff by Nicole Iskra, in which they also talked about him shaving of his chest hair. It was published in the Moviestar 05/2001 (the interview, not the chest hair).

I won't translate everything word for word, but if you wish a closer translation of a special topic/question, let me know and I try my best. (Also I apologize for the bad quality of the middle part of the scanned magazine).

PARALLAX – Madness from the Internet

„I was the Incarnation of their worst nightmare!“ - An interview with Jeffrey Combs

Before the interview starts, they introduce the latest movie Jeff was in back then, which is Parallax aka FearDotCom (almost the complete first column describes the Plot). Parts of it where shot in Luxembourg, which is also the Place where the interviewer meets Mr. Combs.

They meet in front of the Inter-Continental Hotel. Mr. Combs is PISSED, because the breakfast in the Hotel was awful (slimy fried egg) and the staff was rude (someone came in his room without knocking or apologizing, while he was sitting on his bed, only wearing a T-Shirt and Shorts).

They walk into the City of Luxembourg and Jeff's wondering about the many colourful life-sized cow sculptures, that you can find everywhere in town (quote: „Is this supposed to be art?!“).

He's searching for a souvenir for his wife, but in in his opinion, all of the dresses are outdated and their colours terrible. The interviewer teaches him the very important rule „Grün und Blau schmückt die Sau“.

They decide to eat in a Burger Restaurant called „Maybe not Bob's“, where he orders chicken wings with french fries and a coke (quote: „like a real American“).

Jeff speaks about the results of his genealogical research: Originally, his family came from Devon in England, but settled 1619 in Jamestown (Virginia) to work for Virginian Tobacco Co.

1. Question: The first question is about the renaming of FearDotCom to Parallax (reason being uncertainty about who owns the name). It follows more describing of the movie’s plot, this time from Mr. Combs himself.

His friend Bill Malone directed Parallax/FDC and offered Jeff the role, because they already worked together in Haunted Hill and Perversions of Science.

2. Question: You got along so well with Peter Jackson while filming The Frighteners. Will you at least get a Cameo in Lord of the Rings, even if it's only as Orc Nr. 260?

JC: That's the one Orc, that survived, right? (laughs). Nah seriously, I didn't get a role, unfortunately. I auditioned, , but the problem was the british accent. I can imitate it, but when you're surrounded by actors like Ian McKellen and Ian Holm, it's really not hard to tell who's a „real  Briton“ and who's not.

3. Question: Did your latest movie before Parallax/FDT – The Attic Expeditions –  had it's premiere in America yet?

JC: No, not yet. The world premiere was a couple of weeks ago here in Luxembourg and it was also shown on Festivals in Edinburgh and Amsterdam. Sadly, they didn't show it on the film festival in Brussel.

I'm really enthused by The attic Expeditions, because it's interesting, not linear, not logical, with few horror elements, but the horror is mostly psychological. It's like a dream in a nightmare on a trip. The longer you watch the movie, the less you know, what's real, it's a really complex movie, especially by american standards.

4. Question: In retrospect, would you call your role as Herbert West a curse?

JC: (sighs) Somehow, it's a curse and a blessing at the same time. Thanks to the role, I was branded as „Horror actor“ in Hollywood. After Deep Space Nine I was branded as „Horror- and Sci Fi- actor“. Movie people love to categorize you. On the other hand, the role of Herbert West opened up a lot of possibilities for me.

5. Question: 10 Years ago you told a funny story at a convention in New York, about sth. that happened while filming From Beyond. Could you maybe tell it again for the Moviestar readers?

JC: You mean the one with the children?

MS: Exactly!

JC: (grins) Well, we were already filming for a month – so I've been in this horrible make-up for 30 days already, with this awful head piece that looked like a red dog dick. I looked worse than Quasimodo! That's why I ate mostly in my dressing room. One day, they shot a commercial with a bunch of 4-year-old children in mushroom costumes on the same soundstage. We met in the hallway and as soon as those poor, innocent children saw me, all hell has broken loose. I was the incarnation of their worst nightmare, they screamed and ran to their mothers, who wanted to lynch me on the spot. So now it was me, who ran away.

But that's how it is, when you have a lot to do with make-up and masks and stuff like this. Not long ago, I was strapped to a cross made out of tubes, my throat was „cut“, there was blood all over me. And sometimes, when you're hanging there long enough, the crew just forgets that you're there, because for them, you just turned into a part of the set. Until you give a signal: „Umm sorry, guys, could you..maybe..“ - „Oh yeah sure, sorry Jeff, sorry..“

6. Question: (you might already know this one from this post): After that scene in From Beyond, in which you get eaten by this worm, your chest is as smooth as that of a baby – did they shave off your chest fur?

Jeff: Yes! (laughs)

MS: Did you do it yourself?

Jeff: Yes and I learnt something very important: Never use a normal razor blade, an electric razor is way better and safer and it doesn’t itch as badly, when the hair grows back. I had to shave my chest for a theater role once as well. I was 26 or so and played an 18-year-old.

7. Question: Do you still play in theatres regulary?

JC: No, not in the past couple of years, though theatre is very dear to my heart. Back in the days, I loved to play in theatres – living like a gypsy, 8 weeks in San Diego, and somewhere else afterwards. But that's not how I want to live today, now that I have a family. I don't like to leave my two little girls for several weeks, plus an engagement in a theatre isn't really helpful financially. I earn the same money in 1 week of shooting a movie as I do in 4-5 months of theatre work.

8. Question: I read that Woody Allen pays every actor 5.000 Dollar, because in his opinion, no one is worth 20 Million Dollar, neither beginner nor Superstar. What do you think about the explosive growth of fees nowadays?

JC: I do think that you should take the money, that the market offers you. But somebody, who earns 20 Millions per movie should share at least a million with their not so lucky co-actors.  No, seriously, it's not that easy to make a living. A friend of mine got a job, where he plays the brother of Kevin Costner. When I asked him, if he gets payed well, he shook his head and said, that he only gets tariff plus 10%. Tariff is the lowest wage possible, that was defined by union. My friend had the choice to either work with Costner or don't. And as an actor you always hope that a movie like this becomes a success and maybe improves your chances in Hollywood.

MS: Thank you for making so much time for us!

[favefandomimagines]

Vanilla & Cherries (f.w.

Summary: it takes a quidditch accident to make Fred admit he has feelings for you.

AN: i went through like three different plots while writing this lol also soul surfer chapter 10 will be up wednesday!!

request: @teentvimagines Hey! Excited to read you work. Enemies to lovers sort of thing with Fred Weasley? Maybe it’s a slytherin reader in the same year as George and Fred and they’ve always been competitive at quidditch but when they’re paired in class they start flirting???

The first time you knew that Fred Weasley had an undying hatred for you, was your second year at Hogwarts. 

You never had an issue with him or his family before. You actually liked them and they’re family dynamic. It was just you and your dad, your mother having died of a magical illness when you were 12. Everyone knew you were a pureblood wizard but you were the butt of every joke when it came to only have one magical parent.

Of course you scared everyone so no one had the guts to say anything to your face. 

You always thought the Weasley twins were nice people. Until you heard Fred talk about how unfortunate it is for you to be in Slytherin with only one magical parent. He didn’t believe you had the makings of being a powerful witch.

You changed his mind when you jinxed him the next day. It was harmless of course and you made your message clear. 

The second time you were sure Fred Weasley loathed you, George had invited you to the Burrow for Christmas holiday, your father having to go out of town. Just because you were a Slytherin didn’t mean you weren’t a nice person to those who deserved it. Being a Slytherin had nothing to do with being a terrible person but about your ambition and drive. What a witch or wizard did with that was up to them. 

Fred was less than enthused at the fact that you would be infiltrating his holiday at home. When you arrived with them and the Golden Trio, Molly gave you a large, motherly hug that you weren’t used too. 

You forgot what it was like to be hugged by your own mother so Molly Weasley, the definition of what it means to be a mom, hugging you felt good. It meant more to you than you thought it would. 

That was until Fred made a distasteful comment about your mom. How family gatherings like this probably weren’t common in your household. 

Obviously it hurt your feelings. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying when you quietly excused yourself. Molly scolded her son for being so rude to you when George got up and followed you out. 

George was more of a gentler person and he never had a problem with you. And he never knew why his twin brother disliked you so much. It was a mystery even to him. 

He found you sitting on the front porch of the house and he sat down next to you. You turned your face so he wouldn’t see you wipe the tears from your face but he saw you anyways. 

“I’m sorry about Fred. He’s not usually like that.” George said softly. “I don’t know why he hates me so much. I’ve never done anything to him that he didn’t deserve.” You replied. “Don’t let what he says get to you.” George told you. 

“It’s hard when I’ve had a crush on him since second year.” You said quietly. “You have a crush on him? Fred of all people?” George questioned. “Yes, but I’m trying to get over it. He despises me, there’s no way I can tell him.” You answered. “You never know. He’s quite the complicated person.” George said. 

After that day, George tried to reign in his brother when it came to comments about your mother and your family. Those two topics remained off limits when the two of you would start the not so friendly banter. 

It then transitioned to the Quidditch pitch. You were the best chaser on the Slytherin team and you somehow became the captain after Marcus Flint graduated. 

Your team needed to be at the top of their game if you were going to beat Gryffindor. You’d never let them hear it but they were good. Sometimes too good for your liking and you strived to be better than them.  

And the amount of times Fred would throw Bludgers at you became too many to count. And the amount of times you wracked up points for Slytherin after effortlessly dodging the Bludgers he threw at you, also became too many to count. 

He made it his mission to knock you off your broom, letting George worry about the other chasers. 

During a Slytherin v. Gryffindor match, Fred would not let up. Every time you got a Quaffle and made your way to Gryffindor’s hoops, there Fred was sending Bludger your way. 

Graham Montague, a fellow chaser, tossed you a Quaffle and you were surprised that Fred was nowhere in sight. You took that as your chance to fly as fast as you could to the other end of the pitch. 

It seemed as if you’d be able to score Slytherin some points until the team’s keeper called your name. 

You turned around and saw a bludger headed straight for you. You knew you should have moved out of the way and disregarded your plan to get points, but you threw the quaffle through the hoop anyways. 

“Ten points to Slytherin!” Lee Jordan announced. Your celebration was short lived when the bludger harshly hit your left side, causing you to go crashing to the ground below. 

At first, every Gryffindor cheered. Slytherin’s best chaser and team captain was out of the game. But when you weren’t moving, however, Madam Hooch paused the game and ran out to where you were on the ground. 

Your teammates as well as the Gryffindor team, huddled around you as Madam Hooch examined you. You had woken up and instantly the pain became too much. Your head was pounding and you were almost certain the pain in your shoulder was so excruciating you almost couldn’t feel it.

No one had ever seen you cry before. Not once has anyone gotten the notoriety for being the person who made Y/F/N Y/L/N cry. Though that changed thanks to Fred Weasley. You were sobbing on the ground due to pain, it being the only thing you could do in that moment. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Malfoy asked. All you could do was let out another sob as Madam Hooch tried to keep you still. A sound that made Fred’s chest tighten.

“Her shoulder is dislocated and she might have a concussion. We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey immediately.” Madam Hooch instructed. 

Her, along with Malfoy, helped you get off the ground, your good arm being thrown over his shoulder. 

“10 points from Gryffindor.” Madam Hooch snapped at the redheaded Beater as she helped you limp across the pitch. 

It wasn’t Fred’s intention to hurt you. Usually you moved out of the way of every Bludger he threw at you but this time you didn’t. And seeing you get hurt gave him a bad feeling in his stomach. 

George patted him on the shoulder, mostly out of pity. After the game and back in the common room, Hermione was giving the older twin a long lecture about how much you didn’t deserve to get hurt. 

“Does anyone know how she is?” George asked. “Her shoulder is severely dislocated. Madam Pomfrey could only do so much. It has to heal naturally now.” Ron explained. 

Saying Fred felt guilty was a large understatement. He felt terrible for hurting you and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get near you to apologize. 

“I don’t get it, Fred. Y/N is nothing but nice to us. Even for a Slytherin, she doesn’t let Malfoy torment us nearly as much.” Hermione said. Fred remained silent, alone with his thoughts, but he could feel George staring at him. 

That’s when it came to the younger twin. His brother was in love with you. “Merlin, Freddie, you love Y/N.” He said. “What?” Ron questioned. “He’s too afraid of his own feelings so he’s been terrible to Y/N to make that feeling go away.” George explained. 

Everyone looked to Fred for some sort of explanation but they only received him getting off the couch and marching to his room. 

__

The next morning, Fred looked for you at breakfast. Arriving early to see if he’d be able to apologize for hurting you during the match. You walked in later than usual, Hermione helping you carry your books to your house table. 

Fred watched you thank Hermione as you sat down, adjusting the sling on your arm. As you did so, you winced in pain, Pansy probably asking you if you needed help or if you were okay. Which made him feel even worse that it was all his fault. 

With your own band of guard dogs, making sure no one bumped into you the wrong way, there was no way he’d be able to talk to you alone. 

When he was on his way to potions, however, he saw you walking alone. Struggling to carry your bag, he slid next to your side and took your bag. “Let me help.” He said as he situated it in on his shoulder. 

You glared up at him, but you didn’t stop walking. You couldn’t afford to be late for potions and let Fred Weasley cost you even more than just Quidditch. Due to the anger you were feeling towards him, it caused you to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“I think you’ve done enough already.” You snapped, reaching for your bag. “I’m trying to help you, Y/N. After all I’m the reason you got hurt.” Fred said. “Because, for some reason, you hate me so much you threw that Bludger at me. Yeah, I was there.” You replied. “Y/N, I’m sorry-” He started before you snatched your bag back from him. “I don’t want to hear it.” You said sadly before entering the classroom. 

You took your seat at your table, Adrian Pucey usually being your potions partner. That was until Snape decided to have everyone work in random pairs for that day’s lesson. 

One by one, he listed off your classmates until he said your last name. “Anyone but Fred, anyone but Fred.” You muttered to yourself. “Mr. Weasley and Ms. Y/N. Try not to mortally injure her this time, Weasley.” Professor Snape said. 

Adrian gave you a look of pity before Fred took his spot. “It must be fate.” He commented. You hummed, uninterested in the conversation. You opened up your book and followed the recipe for the potion you were making. 

Amorentia was not going to work in your favor that day. Especially since you’re going to have to tell the whole class that you were attracted to the very person who dislocated your shoulder. 

Through out the entirety of class, Fred was not paying attention. At least not to the potion. He was paying more attention to you as you measured out ingredients. A loose piece of hair fell in front of your face as your bit your lip in concentration. 

He knew you were beautiful but now that he got a chance to stare at you without you noticing, he realized it even more. You added the last ingredient and a pink steam floated from the cauldron. 

You let out a sigh of relief, mainly at the fact that you had successfully finished the potion. “That’s it?” Fred questioned. “What do you mean?” You asked. “We finished before everyone else.” He said. “I’m number one in our year in potions. That’s why.” You said with a dry laugh. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Weasley. I see you have finished your potion.” Snape started as he stopped at your table. “Weasley, what do you smell?” He asked. “What do I smell?” Fred questioned. “Precisely.” Snape confirmed. 

Fred furrowed his eyebrows and leaned towards the cauldron. “I smell vanilla, cherries and uh, poppies.” He answered. A small smile formed on your face at Fred’s answer. Unbeknownst to him, your perfume was vanilla and cherries and you always had fresh poppies in your room, the scent staining your robes.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Snape instructed. ‘Great’ You thought to yourself. “Cloves, fireworks and Zonko’s.” You answered. “Write a reflection on your efforts and you’re free to go.” Snape said before leaving the table. 

Fred looked back to you and noticed a smug look on your face. “What are you smiling about?” He asked. “Vanilla, cherries and poppies, huh?” You asked. “Yeah, that’s what I smelled. What does it mean?” Fred questioned. 

“You really don’t pay attention in class.” You muttered. “I tend to let whatever Snape says go in one ear and out the other.” Fred commented. “Amorentia is a love potion. What you smell is what you’re attracted to. Your deepest desire.” You explained. 

Fred’s eyes widened at your words, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Well, you’re not innocent in all this. I’m assuming what you smelled was my dear brother. After all, he’s been nicer to you.” He said, jealousy lacing his words. 

You laughed at him and at the fact that he was oh so oblivious. “No you moron. It was you. Though after you nearly killed me I’m starting to rethink it.” You teased. 

“Wait, so you, Y/F/N Y/L/N, desires me?” He asked flirtatiously. “And you, Fred Weasley, desire me.” You answered. “Who would’ve thought you’d fancy me back?” You asked, mainly to yourself but Fred still heard. “You’ve fancied me this whole time?” He asked. 

“Guilty.” You answered. “And I can’t believe you’ve felt the same way when you literally almost murdered me during Quidditch and said those awful things about me.” You added. “Not my finest moment, I agree. I guess you could say I was scared of how I felt about you so I pretended I didn’t like you. Which was one of the hardest things to do because I never liked hurting you.” Fred said. 

You looked him fondly as he explained his dilemma. “Fred, sometimes not admitting how you feel is worse than actually feeling.” You told him. “That’s rich coming from a Slytherin.” He joked. You nudged him with your good arm as you rolled your eyes. 

“Just because I’m a Slytherin doesn’t mean I’m heartless.” You said. “I know. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He said. 

You smiled up at him, getting lost at how handsome he was. And he was doing the same. This being the first conversation the two of have had without it turning into a screaming match. 

You were both interrupted by George throwing a crumpled up piece of paper at his brother. “We should really write this reflection so we can get out of here.” You said, focusing back on your assignment. 

“When we do, do you wanna maybe hang out?” Fred stammered, stumbling over his words. “I would love that. Just don’t injure me again this time.” You teased. 

Fred smiled down at you as he watched you write on a piece of parchment. Never would he have thought that he would fall in love with the girl who he swore was his enemy. 

[listentothelittlebird]

Today I bring you: an alternate Super Sons meeting! (This is a scrapped scene from my Code Bat series on ao3, but I think this is still enjoyable without context!)

The rewrite of this is here!

“I told you, coming with me would be boring.”

“Tt. Whatever, Drake.”

The nickname had long lost its malicious tinge. Tim rolled his eyes, trying to quell the fond smile that was twitching at his lips by ducking his face back down towards the paperwork on his table.

He was in a usually vacant office, at the Wayne Enterprises building of New York. Damian was playing a video game of some sort on his phone. Tim leaned over to peer at the boy’s screen. Damian tried to jerk away from his view, but Tim had already caught sight of the display.

Tim snorted, “Is that Dragonvale?”

“Shut up,” Damian snapped, his emotions betrayed by the reddening of his cheeks. Tim laughed lightly before returning to his work, the office descending into companionable silence, the only sounds coming from Tim shifting around the papers and clicking and unclicking his pen.

Damian had insisted on coming along for Tim’s business trip to New York. Not because he wanted to have a hand at the business, no, but because the young artist was interested in sketching the streets of the city - especially from the more illegal perches they could find on the tall buildings.

A ping from Tim’s phone caught his attention. He frowned minutely, enough of a change for Damian to raise an eyebrow from where he had positioned himself in the corner of the office, right next to the window overlooking the street below. Damian had already grown bored of the same view, having sketched the same perpsective for three days straight.

“So much for a peaceful business trip,” Tim murmured, signing quickly to Damian from behind his desk, where the camera in the room was unable to see, “K-O-N is in town. Pursuing T-O-Y-M-A-N.”

Damian tilted his head to the side, a silent question of “How?”, because New York was not exactly a neighbour to Metropolis. Tim shrugged with a disgruntled look, “Let’s go. I’m pretty much done with what I have to do right now. The rest can wait until later.”

Damian kept pace with Tim as he made a quick detour to access his spare costume before exiting the building. They were becoming more and more like real brothers each day - just the fact that Damian was here with Tim, without any of their other family members, already spoke volumes on their improving relationship. “What do I do?” Damian wondered curiously, “I know you’re intending on meeting up with him. Would my presence be distracting?”

Tim pursed his lips in thought. He had to admit, Damian’s new costume - the robe dyed with faint colourings - was pretty neat, but also very easily located. Damian would definitely stand out, if he did suit up. Not to mention that Damian had little to no exposure to any metas besides Duke, and would struggle to hide from Kon’s super senses.

“If you’re ready to make your debut, then I’ll see you at the destruction zone,” Tim clasped his hand briefly on Damian’s shoulder before ducking into the nearest alleyway. Damian would take more time to make it to where Toyman was currently wreaking havoc, since he had left his robe in their hotel room.

Sure enough, when Red Robin swooped down from the nearest rooftop to land a direct hit on Toyman’s newest creation, the flash of Damian’s white costume was still nowhere to be seen.

There was, however, another tween present. It did not take a genius to realise from the boy’s red cape and blue Superman tunic that this was Kon’s younger brother, Jon.

“How did Toyman get all the way to New York?” Red Robin aimed the question at his teammate, electing to ignore the presence of the younger boy for the time being.

Superboy huffed, visibly annoyed. “He let loose a ton of smaller toy robots, miniatures of the one he’s currently on,” Kon pointed to the UFO-like contraption that was zipping about the skies. He then directed a glare at his younger brother, “And somebody decided to ditch homeland, so that their Pa has to do all the work taking the robots down himself.”

“Pa can take care of the robots just fine!” Jon yelled, angry tone still dangerously close to a whine, “And I can help you! It all works out!”

Kon looked ready to argue back, so Tim cut in with a quick, “Less talk, more work. We can deal with family squabbles later.” Both Superboys instantly fell silent.

Toyman was rather irritable, Tim realised. Particularly so for him, since he was unable to fly and was restricted to the rooftops or fire escapes along the sides of the buildings. It was one of the few times that he wished he had incorporated his gliding wings into his Red Robin suit instead of his Gotham suit.

The villain also seemed to have a shield around his robot, preventing them from inflicting much damage on the UFO he was in. Tim was also constantly weary of the civilians - they were unable to properly clear out of the way, since Toyman kept switching streets and running off in different directions.

Jon tried to punch straight through the shield, but the shield deflected the force of his blow right back at him with a displacing wave of energy, sending the boy hurtling into a nearby building. The boy growled and got back to his feet, aiming to punch the shield a second time. The buildings around them were already unstable from the force of the first blast.

“Kid, don’t!” Red Robin called, but Jon had already flown straight into the shield, forcefully flinging his fist into the barrier.

-

Damian arrived on scene just as the buildings began to crumble. He stayed crouched a distance away, just shy of the main impact zone of the concussive wave.

Damian first noted the failing infrastructures of the buildings nearest to the blast. He was moving before his thoughts had fully formed, diving quickly through the sizable hole in the building and sprinting towards the unlucky civilians that were caught up in the chaos. He had to clear the building fast, before they were crushed under it.

He lowered the last person to the ground with his grappling hook, only to look up and note the presence of not one, but two Superboys. The smaller one looked to be around his own age, which was both intriguing and concerning.

The second Superboy now looked down at him from where he was holding up the upper half of the building he had just exited. “Who are you?” the boy asked in bewilderment. Damian backed away before ducking into the alley beside him, making his way onto the rooftop of a stable building.

“I could use some help!” Red Robin yelled from one street over, where Toyman had retreated to. Red Robin was using what looked to be electrified bird-a-rangs, which were just barely able to get through the shield, but were not doing much in terms of damage.

Damian slipped a small throwing knife into his hand, aiming his shot carefully. Toyman was facing away from him, and his control panel was on full display from where Damian was crouched. He waited until Red Robin readied another bird-a-rang, before throwing his knife in sync with him.

The shield malfunctioned for a split second once more, and it was all that was needed for the knife to slip through at the same time as the bird-a-rang, planting itself neatly into the controls. The wiring fizzled for a brief moment as Toyman cried out, whipping his head back to meet Damian’s blank mask.

The shield disappeared, and then Superboy - Kon-El - was delivering a sharp punch that crunched through the robot’s metallic body easily. The younger Superboy came soon after, hanging back as Red Robin and his older brother subdued Toyman properly.

The boy wrinkled his nose briefly, before looking directly at Damian, his expression brightening. Damian took a cautious step away from the edge of his rooftop even as Superboy flew up to him, landing heavily enough to crack the concrete slightly.

“You’re the guy from earlier!” Superboy enthused, and extended a hand, “Hi! I’m Superboy!”

Damian gazed warily at the boy’s hand. “Will you crush my hand if I shake yours?” Damian blurted out. This was his first time holding a conversation with one of the Kryptonians, he realised.

Superboy froze, and his face fell as he retracted his hand, “Ah, maybe. Sorry, I- I’m new to the hero gig,” he smiled hesitantly, glancing around him, “This is the first time I’ve been Superboy in any city other than Metropolis, actually. It’s… different.”

“I can imagine,” Damian commented, shifting tensely on his feet. Superboy frowned at him, “Your heartbeat’s going kinda fast. You know you don’t need to be afraid of me, right?”

Damian huffed, wondering belatedly how his brothers dealt with their own teammates. “I’m not afraid,” he clarified, “But it isn’t every day you meet an alien.”

“I’m not- okay, fair,” Superboy paused abruptly to glance down at the street. Kon-El and Red Robin appeared over the rooftop’s edge.

“Who are you?” Kon-El questioned, more forcefully than his younger brother’s harmless query. Damian shrugged. “Canvas,” he offered, “That’s what I would prefer to be called.”

The older Kent’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t exactly explain who you are very well,” he stated slowly, “What were you doing in the area?”

“Passing through,” Damian quipped easily. Kon-El’s frown deepened, but lifted as Red Robin pulled up several news articles on his holo-glove.

“His appearance matches reports of a white-robed traveller in numerous countries,” Red Robin summarised, and Damian knew immediately that the older boy had planned this statement, “Reports say that he was always found returning something, like an artefact or valued possession, to the communities he visited. He was also reported fighting off supernatural beings and protecting civilians from them.”

When the two Superboys looked back at Damian again, their expressions were contemplative. “So you’re a solo vigilante who’s even more nomadic than Red Robin,” Kon-El concluded, earning a disgruntled noise from the aforementioned person.

The younger Superboy suddenly lit up in an excited grin.

“Bro!” the punch that he gave his older brother made Damian wince slightly, “Teen Titans! Let me join!”

“I’ve already said no, countless times,” Kon-El stated in exasperation, “I’ll only let you on if-”

“If I’m ready, I know, but what if I go through like, a trial period, you know? Just in case I really am ready,” Superboy pointed towards Damian, “And Canva can accompany me, because he’s experienced already, then he’ll be able to tell if I am ready!”

“It’s Canvas,” Damian snapped, before the boy’s words sunk in. Teen Titans?

“You need to ask him for permission,” Kon-El scolded, before turning towards him, “Well? Are you interested in joining a team?”

“I…” Damian was at a loss as to how to respond. This was not what he was expecting.

“How about this,” Red Robin suggested, pulling a communicator from one of his pouches and tossing it over. Damian caught it on instinct.

“Contact us if you’re interested. The offer is open.”

Damian pursed his lips under his mask and nodded mutely, pocketing the device before taking off.

[doexoeyes]

Of Finches & Firsts

Ahhhhhhhh! Thank u so much for all the notes, I wasn’t expecting it but I'm very very grateful ♡ since I have 4 chapters already up on aoo3 & wattpad, I'm gonna be able to update these upcoming chapters pretty consistently so here you go, chapter 2! Thank you again and I hope you enjoy. 

Things to note for this chapter : “N/y/n” means ‘not your name’ but something close to it. For example if your name is Ellie, it could be Allie. Really silly thing to note but just so you’re not confused when u get to that part ♡

In case you wanna read ahead:

Archive Of Our own link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707513

Wattpad link:

https://my.w.tt/ZoUHpu1e59

Summary: “A Hufflepuff? Crushing on a Slytherin? Sounds like the start of a terrible joke to me, but ok.” You’ve harbored feelings for Draco Malfoy since your first year at Hogwarts. Secretly, of course, and very much from afar. But when you’re finally taken out of your role of being a background character in his life, will it be what you always wanted, or what you wish you never knew?

Chapters

Chapter 1 ♡ Chapter 2 ♡ Chapter 3

Chapter 2: The Trouble With Tournaments

Your fourth year brought on the news of The Triwizard Tournament, which was to be held at Hogwarts that very year. This induced a frenzy of excitement from everyone, especially those who were interested in participating themselves, along with the announcement that two other schools were to be competing with them as well.

The excitement died down for many, however, when Dumbledore had announced that no student under the age of 17 could volunteer to participate, which was more than half of those attending, you included. You didn’t mind it really, seeing as you had no interest in competing for the Triwizard cup (you weren’t very athletic or even brave enough for that matter), but many of your Hufflepuff housemates were upset about the newly implemented rule.

From your spot in the table you were able to look across the room and spot Draco, who was seated with his Slytherin housemates. He rolled his eyes and looked very displeased so you could only assume that he was interested in putting his name in the goblet. You felt a surge of gratitude for Dumbledore and his new rule then. If his words were anything to heed, the challenges the tournament consisted of was nothing to laugh at.

The schools you would be competing with was Beaxbatons Academy of Magic and Drumstrang Institute and all the students were very enthused with the new arrivals, Mauve included.

“Viktor Krum? More like Viktor Yum,” she teased with a mischievous wink towards said boy’s direction, sending him a little wave.

You lightly elbowed her shoulder, embarrassed at your daring friend’s antics, yet were unable to stifle back a laugh. Despite being a Hufflepuff, Mauve could very much rival any Gryfiindor’s bravery. Especially when it came to boys.

“He just got here and you’re already making googly eyes at him? Geez Mauve, give him a second to stretch his legs at least,” you teased as Mauve tossed a pea at you, causing you to snicker.

“Oh ha-ha. Keep in mind that with the Triwizard Tournament there’s the Yule Ball and there’s no way I’m letting you attend without a date, so you better have some boys in mind ‘cause Merlin knows I’m not gonna be the one scrambling to find you one last minute,” she said as she began to dig into the feast.

Your cheeks reddened as you found your eyes wondering back to Draco, who at the moment seemed to be laughing at something Blaise Zabini had said.

Despite being best friends, you never told Mauve about your crush on Draco for several reasons:

1. It was Draco Malfoy, the ‘Slytherin prince’.

2. Mauve absolutely despised Draco Malfoy, the ‘Slytherin prince’.

3. She would probably pressure you to say more than two words to Draco Malfoy, the ‘Slytherin prince’, because despite her personal feelings for him, she was as supportive a friend as possible and as pushy as one could be.

Besides, you thought, it’s not like anything was ever going to happen with him. 

And as for the Yule Ball, Draco would never be interested in being your date. You made a mental note to think of someone before the time came just so Mauve could be pleased.

Talk of the tournament had shifted one day, however, when they announced the participants and Harry Potter, a fourth year, was picked by the Goblet of Fire.

Not only was Harry not 17, but the champion for Hogwarts was already picked: fellow Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory. Many blamed Harry, believing he had done some spell to outdo the enchantment Dumbledore had casted around the Goblet. You yourself, however, didn’t know what to think. From what you knew and experienced about Harry, it didn’t seem like something he’d do. Still, someone threw his name in and now Hogwarts had two champions.

“Us Hufflepuffs can never catch a break, can we?” Augustus Boggs, a fellow fourth year, said with a sigh.

You were presently in the Hufflepuff common room, where Mauve and you immediately headed to right after the champions were named.

“Right? We get one chance to be known and celebrated in the school and now we have to share it with Gryffindor. As if they don’t get enough praise and attention,” another boy, Milton Morris chided in, looking just as annoyed.

Mauve shook her head at them from her spot on the couch.

“Come on boys, do relax will you? Even with his name being called, do you really think Harry Potter has a chance of winning the tournament, especially with Cedric as our champion? Harry’s cool and all but come on, he’s just a fourth year. He’s way in over his head. Bet he’s regretting putting his name in. Kinda feel for him, if I’m honest,” she admitted.

You had been listening to all the conversations being had in the room, and despite being a bit upset at what transpired, you couldn’t seem to agree with what most were saying.

“I don’t know guys...Harry looked shocked, terrified even, when Dumbledore announced his name. Now, I can’t say he didn’t manage a way to throw his name in the Goblet because I wasn’t there, but his reaction seemed incredibly genuine and I never thought of Harry as a convincing liar,” you stated, fiddling with the ends of your bright yellow scarf.

Augustus, Mauve, and Milton seemed to think what you said over for a moment before finally shrugging their shoulders and shifting the subject to discussing ways to get back at Harry.

You rolled your eyes, leaving the conversation mentally before deciding to leave it physically as well. No one cared to listen to you anyways.

Mauve flashed you a look of concern when you got up from the couch, but you quickly informed her of your plan to head to the astronomy tower to get some air and maybe start on a sketch or two.

The conversations being had in the room were making you feel anxious and sick, especially when most of them consisted of bashing on the poor boy who you truly believed was innocent. It was unlike your house to act this way, but given the circumstances, you sadly understood why they were so fired up. A part of you thought back to Cedric and wondered what was going on in his head. The pressure to win was now doubled and you couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

Sketch book and pencil pouch now in hand, you made your way up the top of the tower and settled down in your spot on the floor near the middle of the room. You hummed as you opened up the pouch and took out a black pencil, flipping to an empty page on your nearly filled book.

Sketching was an escape for you and you were very much in need of one at the moment. Lost in the way your pencil slid across the page, you didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs or even noticed the person when they made their way up.

“Do you mind?” said the person, and you jumped at the sudden break of silence.

“Oh!” you yelped, your foot accidentally kicking your open pouch, causing the pencils inside to roll over as it fell on its side.

You stayed there, frozen for a moment as you stared at none other than Draco Malfoy. He remained still by the stairs, brows furrowed at you and you cursed under your breath as you got on your knees and scrambled to pick up the scattered pencils off the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. I...I was so concentrated, you just startled me,” you said sheepishly, a blush threatening to spread across your cheeks, a common occurrence whenever Draco was in the room.

He watched you pick your things up, not bothering to respond to your admission. Instead he analyzed you silently and you could feel his gaze as if it were burning right through you. It was then that he began to walk towards you and you froze when his perfectly shiny black shoe made contact with a pencil you were about to reach over for.

“Hufflepuff, is that you?” he asked simply and you lifted your head up immediately.

“Umm...yes. It’s me,” you said and your cheeks betrayed you once again as you could feel the warmth radiating off of them.

“Of course it’d be you up here. We keep running into each other. I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” he said in a cocky manner and it took everything in your power not to scream in complete frustration and embarrassment because of course this looked bad and of course you’d look like some freaky stalker.

Instead, however, you babbled on like an idiot.

“I-I..ummm...I...n-no I...never...umm...”

Draco frowned.

“Relax, will you? I wasn’t serious. Unless you really are stalking me and then I’d say you’re doing a rather shit job at it as the whole point is to not get caught,” he stated, rolling his eyes.

All you could do was stay there in silence until you realized you were still on the floor, on your knees. Clearing your throat, you got up, pouch and book in hand.

“I’ll just go, sorry,” you said, clutching your things to your chest as you began to walk away.

“N/y/n, right?” he simply called out and you stopped in your tracks, slowly turning back to face him.

“Your name?” he asked, brow raised.

Realization dawned on your face. He remembered your name.

Well, almost.

“Y/n, actually, but you were close,” you said offering him a small, awkward smile.

“Is that all?” he asked and you tried your best to understand what he meant.

You came up blank.

“Your name. Is that all there is to it?” he rephrased, looking at you as if you were a child who was unable to comprehend things.

You bit your lip, not liking the look he gave you.

“Y/n. Finch,” you answered.

He seemed to think it over for a moment before stating, “I think I like that better.”

“Y/N?” you asked.

He shook his head.

“Finch.”

There was a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint and you wondered if you would ever be able to read Draco or if you would continue on never really understanding the boy.

“Ok,” you stated simply, head tilted slightly as your eyes watched him curiously.

He then proceeded to turn his back to you, walking over to the railing that overlooked the lake, leaning his body on it slightly.

“See you around then, Finch,” he says, as he remained facing forward.

You took this as your cue to leave, gripping your book closer to your chest, and sneaking one last glance at him.

He looked so serene and unlike his typical self in that moment. You wish you could commit it to memory.

Making your way down the steps of the tower, mind still reeling from your interaction, you thought back to that mental image of Draco leaning on the railing, looking out into the lake.

Funny, you thought, how different people like the infamous Draco Malfoy were when they were away from the noise and the masses and the expectations. 

They were just left to be like everybody else.

♡

Tag list: @sadgirlnumber92899

(message me if u’d like to be included <3)

[avoidingcertaindoom]

Visions of Snowflakes Teaser

In which Juniper learns why all the fairytales say stay away from the fae at all costs...

Warnings; Ableism

(Formerly all three parts were uploaded to Tumblr, but the last three have since been removed)

_____

Caution was very much something Juniper had to learn. 

While her father went around enjoying his status and her mother slowly pulled away to try and establish her own, Juniper was often left to her own devices. She cheerfully perused through the books left round the house, finding spells in Pruina's textbooks and tales of the Yulivech forests, and day dreamed about discovering something that could be found amidst pages like these. Of being remembered and praised for such fantastical accomplishments.

One night at dinner she tried showing off a drawing she'd copied from one of the books, but Topher was too busy chatting with a guest to notice her attempts to get his attention. Which made Pruina snap at him, and the guest, and pretty much spoiled the dinner. Juniper tossed the drawing with her leftovers, no longer proud of the attempt that had taken her all afternoon, and decided to try something else. 

There were several maps in the books, one of which spoke of an area where this world folded into another and wishes could be granted. It happened to be in the Yulivech area as well, not terribly close to the Lee Estate, but in the province. She just needed an excuse, really…

And one came soon enough. Councilman Chandralis was over, a dull hum of energy droning behind June's eardrums in his presence under one of Winter's week-long full moons. She’d tossed and turned from a nap before begrudgingly giving up and going to read, forcing a polite smile and curtsy for her "uncle Pierce" and flopping into a seat with one of her mother's books.

"Heavy reading for a little one like her, isn't it?" Pierce questioned, scanning the spine of the book. 

Topher shrugged. "She's a prodigy, what can I say? Takes after her old man in that regard, thank goodness. As much time as Prue spends homeschooling during the school year it's good that she's getting so far. Especially since she can't hear a word."

Walking past the room with a housekeeper at this time, Pruina directed a rude gesture her husband's way and the temperature in the room noticeably dropped a few degrees. Shivering, Juniper set her book down to tug a blanket around her shoulders, giving Pierce's wandering eyes a clear view of the map.

He brightened. "Oh, have you told her about Zayat’s Lake Glen?"

"Rzyat Lake Glen?" Topher corrects. "No. Pruina likes keeping her attached at the hip these days, why would I?"

"She's reading about it, here." Pierce turns to her, tapping the table for her attention before clumsily signing. "You know the Glen is here in town, yes?"

Juniper nods, an eyebrow raised. 

"Have you asked dad to see? He could take you while visiting the market downtown."

"Could you maybe ask her to use her words?" Topher muttered, watching the exchange with poorly hidden frustration.

Not noticing her father's griping, Juniper replied back with excitedly broad motions. "You mean I can see it? Please? I'll be on my best behavior!" 

"I think that's up to your dad." Pierce laughed, voicing this reply and nodding to Topher. 

Juniper turned, eyes wide and pleading with her hands clasped under her chin. The universal pose of begging. "Please papa?" She tried to speak clearly, excitement and inability to hear causing her words to come out slurred. "I'll be good! You know I can be good!"

Topher didn't look all that enthused, but Pierce clapped his hands together with a beam as bright as his halo. "A father daughter day! How exciting, I daresay half the province is starting to forget you even had a child at home."

"...Yes," After a pregnant pause Topher agreed, and offered Juniper a smile. "What do you say Junebug? How's tomorrow sound?"

June grinned, showing off the pearly sharps of her teeth, and nodded excitedly, jumping up to go pick something to wear and pack. 

To say Pruina wasn't excited was an understatement, especially when her suggestion to make it a family outing was blown off by her husband, but she dutifully helped Juniper pull on her snow wear and checked her aids before pulling earmuffs over her ears. 

"Be nice, but remember if you don't want to do anything your daddy can't make you. Okay?" Pruina’s hands fluttered through the signs hesitantly, still in desperate want to join them but not wanting to spoil her daughter’s fun with an argument.

Juniper nodded delightedly and skipped off to the carriage, led along by her father.

[howemancing]

WIP Wednesday

I’m going to pretend @dreadfutures tagged me because she said it was open. I started a Flufy Modern AU one shot version of my main OC Elspeth Cousland and Nathaniel Howe which has been a ton of fun to play in. Problem is, I need to work on the pacing, because my main pair just spend the entire time teasing each other.  One day I’ll come back and turn this into a fully fledged fic.   I’ve never posted stories directly to tumblr before so this is about to be an adventure in HTML -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soldering pedals was one of Elsa’s great joys in life. It was simple, straightforward, necessary, and immediately rewarding. Working on music could be richly satisfying in its own right, of course, but sometimes she just wanted a project with a clear goal and obvious outcome. And as a bonus, she could listen to whatever tracks she or her collaborators had made, with half a mind to future tweaks even as she worked. 

Shadow suddenly perked up at her feet, a sure sign that Delilah was home, before turning into a barking dancing ball of energy as she raced towards the doorway.  Her mutt was just barely well trained enough not to bump her owner while she was working, but it made her nervous all the same.

“Hey, ‘Lilah, because I know you love me, would you be willing to take the monster out while you’re still bundled up?” she called out in amusement. “I’m just in shorts and a sweater over here.” She didn’t hear a response, but her faithful mutt’s barking began to get more muted, even through her headphones.

She let herself get caught up in her work once more, finishing the last few wires that needed attaching. Elsa Cousland stood, stretching energy into stiff limbs, wandering over to their kitchen to check on the stewing cordero al vino. Soon enough, she heard the barking of Shadow in the hallway, apparently particularly excitable tonight as she returned. Her faithful mutt didn’t usually stay hyper this long when Delilah came home.

Keys jingled in the doorway, letting in the hyperactive pup, but Elsa’s attention was caught up blowing on the broth, eager to sample if it was coming along alright. “Geez, Lilah, do you have bacon in your pocket or something?”

“Heard a number of odd pick up lines before, but that one’s rather new,” a different, comforting voice graveled at her. Elsa started in surprise. It can’t be, she thought, even as she whirled. Nathaniel Howe was leaning in the doorway. Of course there was a faint smirk on his face, helmet in hand, and he would choose to look quite so dashing in his snow dusted leather coat. “But yes, I am happy to see you.”

“NATE!” she breathlessly enthused, dropping the spoon and launching herself at the man.

He grinned, catching her into a tight hug, wonderful chuckles rumbling through his chest. Despite the cold he brought in, warmth of a different kind seared through her.

“Hey, Elsa,” he breathed, his cologne such a wonderful, familiar scent. “Miss me?”

“You can’t possibly need to ask, you dork,” she murmured back, voice muffled by his chest. She pulled back to beam up at him, trying to ignore how easily he made her heart flip. Piercing grey eyes crinkled at her, peering past that wonderful aquiline nose. A faint blush from winter’s cold colored his cheeks, all while a smile danced across his lips. His sharp chin sporting that same soul patch she remembered so well. 

Nathaniel Howe, back after over a year of international travel. Smiling at her, daring to act even a fraction as happy to see her as she was him. 

She shoved down her pounding heart with firm internal rebuke. She didn’t have a crush on the man anymore, really. Clearly this was just the affection of having missed a man she cared dearly for - as a friend! Her energy would settle soon enough. 

Around their feet, her mutt danced, still bouncing ecstatically, and one particularly affectionate bump nearly knocked Elsa over if Nathaniel hadn’t tightened his hug and righted her. “Shadow, couch,” she ordered with exasperation, and obediently the dog quieted, following her owner’s command. Ponderously she climbed on, mournfully huffing as she curled up on the cushion. Large, sad puppy eyes demanded an explanation for such a betrayal, but her supposedly morose demeanor was rather cut by a wagging tail steadily thumping on the cushions. 

“It’s so wonderful to see you,” Elsa repeated warmly to Nate. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re here! Have you had dinner? Can you stay? I’m making cordero al vino. Ori’s recipe.” 

“It smells amazing, but I don’t want to trouble you,” Nathaniel demurred.

“Doctor Nathaniel Howe! Don’t be ridiculous, do you see the size of that pot? Besides, I will not be denied the chance to play host, or the pleasure of your company,” she growled, playfully thumping him in the chest.

“I am still not used to that title,” he mused, shaking his head, eyes crinkling with amusement. She giggled. “I’ll have to help you get used to it then, Dr. Howe. Indiana Jones wannabe-”

“Great, good. Years in the field and that’s never gotten old.”

“Professional artifact thief.”

“I am not a thief, I do nothing of the sort! I don’t even - I work in Greece, I’m mostly just surveying, and you - ah. You know this, of course you know this, and you’re winding me up.” Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his nose and trying not to smirk. “Why am I such an easy mark for you?”

Her brown eyes sparkled with humorous delight, grin bursting past all efforts to control it. “I mean, that goes both ways and you know it,” she pointed out, and he had to smirk, dipping his head in concession. “Please, settle in, make yourself at home. I should warn you, I’m likely to strongly insist you stay the night.”

“Oh?”

She gestured out the window. “Look at the weather. Did you really not know a major winter storm was coming? I don’t even want Delilah taking public in this, though I imagine she’s thinking the same. Her decision, in the end.”

He hesitated, frame stilling as he shed his coat. “Oh. Just you and me, then?”

Nerves flashed through her. She kept her tone light, offhand. “Is that a problem? Need me to invite other friends?”

“Of course not, but I feel bad for interrupting your, ah, special date night. And I don’t mean to force you to entertain me.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated, worries settled. “Nathaniel. It’s fine. I’d really prefer you didn’t try and take your bike in the storm that’s about to hit, but I’ll not pressure you. If you can put up with a slightly more humble abode than you’re used to, oh mighty Doctor Nathaniel-”

“-I feel as though you vastly overestimate the lifestyle of a non medical doctor.”

“-we’d be more than happy to have you stay. Especially for safety’s sake. If you can’t fit on the couch, you can stay in my bed.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she flushed, quickly continuing as if nothing were wrong. “Instead of me! I can sleep out here, I’ve spent more than one night on this couch.”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes looked distant. “I’m sure both you and Delilah have.”

“If it weighs on the scale, I’d like to pester you with a thousand questions as your rent for the night. Plus, you’ll have to give that shameless flirt - the one with a tail - all the attention she craves.”

Nathaniel grinned, piercing grey eyes sparkling and flipping her stomach in knots. “Such a price. Are you trying to threaten me with a good time? You know I’d pay it a dozen times over.” Her heart pounded within her, but she shoved that down. Nathaniel loved dogs. “But wouldn’t I just be in your way?”

“Nate, don’t joke like that. I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“A year and a half!” She huffed at him, and he quickly held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just thought you’d rather - well. I appreciate the offer. Hm.” He checked out the window, noticing the snow flakes getting thicker. “Maybe I will take you up on it, at least for tonight. Mind if I go down and cover my bike, then?”

“Excellent! Good choice,” she praised, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. “And go for it. Dinner should be ready in another ten minute or so.”

“I look forward to it. And the promised thousand questions,” he added with a faint smirk, heading out.

Elsa watched him go, double checking on the lamb with sudden nerves, buzzing with excitement that wasn’t suspicious. It was normal to be this happy to see an old friend. Those butterflies were just clearly the natural excitement of being surprised. But the growing snow worried her, so she found her phone to make sure her roommate wasn’t enroute, and realized she’d missed several texts from Delilah

 Nathaniel’s back in down, you don’t mind if I invite him to dinner, right?

Hey

Hey

Check your damn phone buttface. He’s on his way.

Also I’m going to stay at Albert’s tonight. It’s much closer and work held me up. If you end up fucking my brother, please don’t tell me.

I lied, please tell me

No don’t.

Look tell me but I don’t want details. I just want to know it happened finally.

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes, and set about responding. 

Fucks sake, I’m sorry! I was working on soldering, alright? It’s fine, your brother’s here safely, happy to see him and entertain. He’s going to stay the night

No I’m not gonna sleep with him. Have to get him drunk first so he’ll even want to and that makes the whole thing too bleh for me

Can’t believe you abandoned me on date night, bitch

I’m kidding. Glad you’re staying with Albert but duh. Even without snow, when was the last time you spent the night here? Tell them I said hi

Soon enough, Nathaniel returned, and was promptly attacked by Shadow. He pretended at irritation, but a smirking grin kept fighting against his scowl even as she twined around his legs and forced him to sit with her on the couch.

Elsa smiled, watching him rubbing Shadow’s belly to her obvious delight, letting him have a moment of calm. Soon enough, though, he looked up, raising an eyebrow. “So quiet all of a sudden, should I be nervous? I believe you threatened me with a thousand questions.”

“Just giving you a moment to settle in!” she defended solicitously.

A faint half smirk traced his lips. “Consider me settled.”

It was like a floodgate releasing. “How’s Greece? Are you still doing GIS? Were you able to start any digs, discover any good sites, and find any exciting sherds? Meet any interesting new people?”

Nathaniel chuckled, and his eyes briefly went unfocused, clearly trying to keep track of each of her questions. “Rapid fire questions get rapid fire answers. Greece is good, surveying is excellent, I think we've identified a very interesting new site, specifically because yes, we found a number of interesting sherds. And no, nobody particularly interesting we haven’t already emailed about.” He shook his head, bemused. “This isn’t even your kind of field, and you’re not my family, forced to pretend. How do you remember this much? Even Delilah glazes over whenever I try to explain it.”

“Please, you underestimate how interesting you make things. Besides, ‘Lilah always remembers, she’s just trying to yank your soul patch. Which I note you still have, and so I’ve now lost a bet with her.”

Self consciously, Nathaniel stroked it. “I think it looks good.” 

“It does,” she soothed with a teasing grin. “I just didn’t think those were easy to maintain. Surprised you can keep up such careful grooming in the field.”

“Some things are worth the effort. Besides, you’re one to talk! You’re here in the middle of a city, and yet your hair’s getting so long,” he retorted. “When’s the last time you got a haircut?”

She mockingly gasped theatrically, tossing her long auburn hair. She hoped it would cascade beautifully but realistically knew she was just getting a floofy mess and shedding behind her. “Hey, I get it trimmed regularly. Besides, don’t you mock my hair, it’s my only good feature, Nate!” she baited him, raising a teasing eyebrow.

“That’s not even slightly true,” he protested.

 “How very dare you, good sir. I can’t believe you just called my hair ugly.”

 “I did nothing of the sort.”

 “I work so hard on it, too!”

 “Your hair is beautiful, and so is-”

Theatrically she pressed a hand to her forehead, sighing dramatically. “And now Nathaniel Howe, Expert P-H-D, just called it ugly. Alas! I’ve disappointed my dear Delilah’s brother. Now she’ll hate me too. Curse my miserable existence! I suppose there’s no help for it, I’ll just have to shave it all off.”

Nathaniel was outright laughing by the time her performative and overwrought display was done. “So dramatic. You are such a ridiculous ham,” he teased her. “You would never do such a thing. You know your hair is beautiful.”

She grinned at him, joy bursting out of her too much to be contained. “Can’t help the drama. I’m too excited, it’s hard to play at calm.” She performatively covered her mouth, then, and by the time she removed her hand, her smile was slightly better controlled, though her twinkling eyes betrayed her still. “Sorry, I promise I’ll try to settle down again. This is what you get for surprising me, Nate. My favorite - one of my favorite people is back in town, I’m a little eager!”

He settled slightly, smiling warmly at her, grey eyes dancing with light that made her heart flip within her. “Favorite? Please. Don’t exaggerate, you heartbreaker,” he teased, and as she geared up to protest, he continued, eyes softer, careful smile dancing on his features. “I missed you too, Elsa. It’s - it’s really good to see you again, energy and all. Especially that, actually. I loved your emails but they always lack a little something compared to seeing you face to face.”

She smiled warmly back, trying not to flush. “I know what you mean,” she agreed. “I’m so glad you could come back early. How long are you back this time?”

“Likely a couple years, actually. We’ve all but got the permit to dig in Greece so now it’s just applying for grants for awhile until we have enough to fund an actual dig. I’m probably going to be staying near the university, working on data analysis and grant and paper writing.”

Elsa tried not to let her tremor of excitement show. Cool as a cucumber. Casual. Not at all a silly, lovesick girl. Because it would be ridiculous. She couldn’t actually be still crushing on a man she should have the good sense to get over by now.

But.

A part of her couldn’t help but note this would be the first time in years they’d be local and single for an appreciable time frame. Most of Nathaniel’s graduate career had been intercut with international travel spanning for months on end, often rarely spending more than a season in the country. Last time he was in town for 6 consecutive months, she’d been dating Sebastian, and before that, he’d had some long distance relationship with someone or other. Alvina? Elvira? Damn, she probably shouldn’t be forgetting that.

Nerves would betray her, so she diverted to practical matters. “Oh? That’s wonderful to hear. Where will you be staying?”

“Mostly working out of the university, so I’ll probably settle in with father while I look for a place around here.”

Elsa made a face even as she poured herself a glass of wine.  “You really want to live with your father? I thought you didn’t get along with him either.” 

Nathaniel sighed, shrugging. “Well, I didn’t exactly have an alternative set up. It’s just to tide me over until I can get an apartment.”

“Stay here!” she insisted. “We can put you up for however long it takes to find a place.”

“That’s a kind offer, but I’m not sure Delilah would appreciate it.”

“‘Lilah would much rather you stay here than with your father, trust me,” Elsa pressed, taking a seat on the couch with him. “Double check with her if you prefer, but I’ll put money down I’m right.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nathaniel demurred. “I’d rather not, ah. Be in either of your way, though. Wouldn’t it be awkward to have the older brother around, looming over you two?”

What a strange way to phrase things. But Nathaniel tended to be more careful in his word choice than others, and Elsa knew she’d probably thrown him off already with her energy and offer. “Not at all. I intend to be shameless regardless of your presence. We can have late night slumber parties!” she insisted cheerfully. 

Nathaniel’s face flushed slightly, then, though it was hard to tell why. Nathaniel was a flirt himself, and quite smooth about it, so the idea that he was flustered from her flirtations was hard to buy. But then, it was possible she was coming across stronger than she realized. Best to back off, then. “Well, it’s your choice, but offer’s on the table.”

“I’ll talk with Delilah.”

[courtlandmcintosh]

[Hafsanur Sancaktutan, cisfemale, she/her] who’s that? oh it’s [Courtland McIntosh]. i hear they’re [19] and are known as [The Wallflower] around [Ohio]. they’re also a [Freshman] at [OSU], and are part of [OSU’s art club & McIntosh Orchards]. they’re known to be [caring & thoughtful] and [prying & an overthinker]. some people say they remind them of [the soft glow of fairy lights, bundling up on a cold winter’s morning, journaling & the first stroke of paint on a new canvas]. only one way to find out! [Bee, 21, GMT]

BASICS

Full Name: Courtland Ariane McIntosh

Nickname: Courtland, Court

Birthday: May 27th

Age: 18

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Hometown: Manhattan, NY.

Sexuality: Bisexual? (Still questioning)

Grade: Freshman

School: OSU

Occupation: Managing the family orchard

Activities: Art club

LIKES/DISLIKES

LIKES: Wildlife, sunrise, art in all its forms, journalling

DISLIKES: Being alone in a crowd, bullies, being underestimated, overheating

TL;DR BIO

Courtland McIntosh took a long time to grow into herself, and her family’s legacy. Between her solitary hobbies and general shyness, she was always reluctant to stretch herself beyond the social reach of her twin. However, after a sudden life-change on her sister’s part, she realised she couldn’t hide in her shadow forever. Now, Courtland is studying at OSU and running her family’s new orchard, determined to prove that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

FULL BIO

Courtland’s life has undeniably been one of privilege. Being descended from the self-proclaimed “reigning emperor of apples” himself comes with a swathe of perks, both nutritionally and financially. Along with her twin sister Braeburn, Courtland grew up in the lap of luxury and the heart of Manhattan. In every sense aside from literal, the two were always attached at the hip as kids. Their dynamic shone through even in their early years; Braeburn

Out of the pair, Courtland was always the most introverted. She held no active disdain for other people outside of her family, but she struggled with approaching others socially. Whenever the choice was provided, she would opt to stay at home and work on her hobbies rather than going out to play. She established an early interest in art, especially painting. Her parents had very polarised reactions to this; while her father was mostly indifferent and concerned for their furniture, her mother was all-in, to an off-putting extent. While in her own mind she was providing unwavering support and motivation, to a young Courtland, she was offering up unsolicited criticism and pressure to improve even her most whimsical finger paintings, constantly. While she couldn’t know it at the time, these attitudes from her parents would prevail as she grew up, no matter what the pursuit was. Cello, her studies, writing - it was all or nothing from either side. She internalised both of these responses, but art would remain as her escape for years to come.

Braeburn was the one who made sure of that. No matter where they went or what they did, Braeburn was the driving force behind what little confidence Courtland had. Outside of arts and crafts, a young Courtland could credit each and every new venture in her life to her twin; her dependence wove itself into existence early on. Because she was quieter, Courtland saw herself as weaker, and during her childhood that didn’t present itself as much as a problem. It was a fact she was willing to accept. She didn’t need to be popular in her own right at school - Braeburn was extroverted and charismatic enough to attract a healthy crowd to their elementary school lunch table, and she was content to linger quietly in the corner. That isn’t to say she offered nothing to her sister - she was perceptive, and observant. From her slightly removed perspective, Courtland was happy to offer her sister a fond ear and often pertinent advice. Beneath their contrasting surfaces, their bond was always one of give and take.

Their coexistence held strong all the way through middle school, and the early beginnings of high school as well. Courtland had a few people she met through Braeburn that she would call friends, but none of them were close. Braeburn remained her idol, and the centre of her world, and so when her sister began to shut her out, she knew something was seriously wrong. Courtland couldn’t understand it. Looking back, she cringes at the way she made her sister’s struggle about herself over those months, but until her sister eventually came out she had herself convinced that she had done something wrong. For a while, nothing could get through to her. Not the hushed knocks and whispers from outside of her bedroom door, nor the drawings softly worded letters slipped beneath her door.

For a while, the world became a faded version of itself. Her art lost its spirit, and in turn so did Courtland; she had no idea how to be herself without her twin. This, combined with the already messy maelstrom of feelings that came along with puberty, made for a difficult time in Courtland’s life. When Braeburn was finally ready to come out, the relief was incomparable. She had her twin back, and her twin had herself back. It was all Courtland could ever ask for - and a wake-up call, all at once. She had to be stronger, and more independent. Of course she would always be there for Braeburn, and she would still count on her in the same way, but she wanted to be able to stand on her own two feet.

It took a little while, but between helping her sister run lines for Little Shop Of Horrors and helping here and there with the set design, she realised it was time to branch out. The school had a small, but open art club, and with encouragement from Braeburn she eventually plucked up the nerve to sign up. She loved it. School was no longer just a place to accrue accomplishments - the was a small part of it that became a second home. She made friends there, ones all of her own, and although it took her a little while to open up she took her new, individual social life in stride. Braeburn was still her best friend, but for the first time she could confidently say she had friends she wasn’t related to. For once, other people were looking up to her - the other members of the art club respected her, they valued her contributions, and by the end of her junior year she took over as its president. As it turned out, she liked being a leader.

This, in turn, fed into a growing interest in the family business. Braeburn had started college prep in her junior year, with a range of schools in mind - some Ivy League, some not, but all fitting into schools her father referred to as ‘The Apple League,’ AKA any school he personally approved of. At the same time, her confidence grew. She was a smart girl. She held her own in several AP classes, and from her time in art club she realised she had ideas. Here and there, she began to pitch some ideas to her father over the dinner table when he brought up business concerns. For several months, he either brushed or laughed these off - but Courtland had changed. For once, she didn’t want to shy away from confrontation. She took her time, compiled her ideas, and worked them all into a presentation she was rather proud of. After several run-throughs with Braeburn there to offer pointers, she sat their father down, and finally asserted herself. To her surprise, he was enthused. So much so that, when her college acceptance letters eventually came in, he encouraged her to head to OSU so that she could oversee the launch of their newest orchard while she studied.

Going to college so far from home and so far from Braeburn would be her biggest challenge yet, but Courtland was ready for it. She packed her bags, and with a steadfast promise to facetime her sister as often as possible, she set off for Ohio to kickstart a new chapter of her life.

HEADCANONS

As young children, the twins developed in very different ways. While Braeburn’s speech came to her rather quickly, Courtland dawdled far behind in that area. She didn’t speak until shortly after their third birthday. Instead of talking, as soon as she could grasp on to a crayon for more than a few seconds, she started to draw. It made her so visibly happy that her parents provided her with all the art supplies a toddler could dream of. Her mother encouraged this as much as possible, hoping for a child prodigy, while her father was a little more wary of the mess. He did, however, have a couple of her first paintings of apples framed for his office. Her love for art only grew exponentially from there.

Throughout Courtland’s childhood, her sister was her idol. Her hero. She was always more reserved, keeping to herself and her hobbies unless somebody actively invited her to participate in social activities. More often than not, that invitation came from Braeburn. This pattern never really faded, and during the brief period before her sister came out where she withdrew into herself, Courtland became more aware than ever of how dependent she had let herself become. Even when Braeburn came out and their bond gew stronger than ever, she remained cognisant of her growing need to branch out as her own person.

When Braeburn first came out to her, Courtland wanted to offer up the best possible advice to her sister. To prepare herself for this, she bulk-bought as many contemporary fashion magazines as she could get her hands on. After holing herself up in her room for several days with those after school, she found herself hooked, and still enjoys flicking through these magazines on occasion, even though she rarely goes for the products advertised in them. They provide a range of pose references and jolts of inspiration every now and then for her art.

Throughout high school, Courtland began to feel a need for a little independence, although she wasn’t sure how to establish herself. She wasn’t bullied, but she was rarely included - sometimes she felt like an afterthought, hanging off the edge of Braeburn’s social circle. Eventually, with enough support from her sister, she finally joined the school’s art club towards the end of her sophomore year. For the first time she made her own friends, completely of her own merit, and the club became her passion. Before too long she was its secretary, and then its treasurer, and finally its president by the end of her junior year.

Courtland was always fascinated with the family business. While Braeburn was always expected to eventually take on their father’s legacy, Courtland was the only one who actively wanted to enter the world of apple farming at all. Her pitches for their orchards were rarely taken seriously, until around her senior year of high school. When Biff let the family know he was planning on opening a new orchard in Ohio, she saw an opportunity. With her gradually bolstering confidence she put together a presentation complete with elaborate slides, detailed infographics, and a laser pointer. She rehearsed the speech for weeks on end, mostly with her sister as the sole audience member, until she eventually cornered their father in his office and delivered the whole thing. By the end, he was impressed enough to request that she oversaw the project during her time at college, running that small branch of the business under his remote supervision.

[lumierecharity]

A SIGN OF HOPE - THE MIRACULOUS MEDAL

Miraculous medal, front and back

Luky:

THE SEVENTH of November has always been a red letter day in my life, as it marks the birthday of a near and dear one. When she was small she'd be counting the weeks and days leading up to it for months, giving us no chance to forget it.

One year's birthday was probably a lot different. As mother (at the time) of two and expecting her third child in another six months' time, she had enough to occupy her mind.

All the same, I phoned her that morning and she enthused about the lovely gifts her husband had brought her.

Unsuspecting

I on my side had good news too. My own husband, having successfully got over his operation, was coming home the next morning. We mutually expressed our pleasure and rang off.

Little did I know then that I was about to remember November the 7th for quite a different reason.

Just before ten that morning one of the matrons of the local hospital telephoned me. My husband was back in the intensive care unit of the surgical ward, she said, and she was sure I'd be wanting to see him to encourage him as soon as I could.

A nod is as good as a kick to a willing horse, so I went to my boss and got permission to go to the hospital.

Plugged in

Having arrived there I found my husband lying on a bed, tubes and bottles attached to several parts of his body. He was barely able to speak but the matron had explained to me that he had either got a clot in the lung, known a a pulmonary embolism, or in the heart; called a coronary thrombosis.

He had complained of a very severe pain across his chest. "I've nursed Mr Whittle for years", the matron said, "and I know him well enough to be aware that by the time he finally complains there is something seriously wrong."

Strong friend

I can't tell you how kind everyone was. As parents of one of the hospital's student nurses at the time, we received VIP treatment.

My old neighbour grabbed me as I was leaving the hospital on my way to I know not where and steered me back to the ward. She's a nursing sister and midwife and was a tower of strength to me in the eight years we lived next door to each other. It was like living next door to my doctor.

Complicated prang

When I pranged my car that morning, trying to get out of a parking place, three men helped to liberate me. If you gave me five thousand rand to repeat what I must have done to steer my car into such a position, I'd have to decline because I just don't understand how I managed it.

Please pray

Early next morning I telephoned my sister. My husband was on the critical list and my brother-in-law came to the phone and asked what he could do.

"Take all your children to church now on their way to school and have them pray a Hail Mary for their uncle", I pleaded.

He did that and more. That afternoon as I arrived again at the hospital, he was sitting outside my husband's ward. He had taken the day off and spent four hours driving my mother and sister to see me. I've always thought that man was a jewel; now I have proof.

My mother stayed and looked after the children for the next few days, much of which I spent as hospital.

It's good to have a family.

More to come

A second clot was to pass through my husband's lung before his agony was over. I received a letter from my colleagues at the office; all of them had gone into one office and prayed together for my husband's recovery. Everybody was praying, especially the lady who worked for us. 

"I was so scared Mr Whittle was dying", she said.

The younger children, aware of the tension, became unbearable, looking for attention, arguing and quarrelling and crying hysterically over nothing.

Interesting incident

The day I knew things would improve I was seated in a little room outside the intensive care unit, talking to my daughter. I had been given permission to look in at my husband on the half-hour.

She had taken off her miraculous medal and handed it to me to put round her father's neck.

We were talking and I was gesticulating with the hand which held the medal. Suddenly I looked down on my knee, and there to my astonishment I found that the chain had arranged itself into the shape of that peculiar broad flat "M" on the back of the miraculous medal.

People have laughed at my assertions of miracles all my life so I said nothing about it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken.

'That's odd", I said to my daughter, "What does this remind you of?"

"The M on the back of the miraculous medal", she said. "And look next to it, that's a heart shape, also found on the back of the medal."

"Your father will be all right now", I said after marvelling for a little while, and handed her back her chain. "He won't need this."

I went into the ward and spoke to the heart specialist.

"Your husband is improving", he informed me, "though he's not out of danger yet."

It was all I could do not to tell him he was wrong. With such a powerful patroness as our Lady showing her very personal concern, I knew that no power on earth could prevent my husband from recovering.

Catherine Nicolette

Dad went on to make an uneventful recovery - an amazing turnaround as he had been critically ill. I have great devotion to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and both Mom and I received much comfort from the configuration of the chain. Do I believe this was a sign from God? The comfort I received when I saw the symbols of holiness was deep. In that moment I knew: all will be well.

Having been witness to many signs and wonders from God throughout my life, I would encourage you to look out in your own life for those moments in which God is present with comfort and hope.

The Miraculous Medal is a holy devotion which brings special spiritual protection and comfort. Why not find out more?

Visit for petition to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal

at https://lumierecharitymarian.blogspot.com/2017/08/petition-to-our-lady-of-miraculous-medal.html

[everlarkficexchange]

The Proper Response

Written by: @madetofly

Prompt 29: Post-MJ, Growing Together. Peeta is finally showing his affection and love for Katniss as they heal and reconnect. Katniss, being Katniss, seems to act like she doesn’t appreciate this, and is less than enthused. Peeta, taking this like an adult, stops showing her with the affection and tries to show her his love in other ways. Katniss, however, does not appreciate him stopping those things and set out to try and get him to continue it again because she misses it. [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Summary: After the war, Katniss and Peeta go back home. But when Peeta begins gifting Katniss with bread, she’s not sure what the proper response is.

Warnings: past character death, alcoholism (Haymitch), and references to events in the books.

Katniss threw her empty game bag over one shoulder, followed quickly by her sheath of arrows. Each step of the familiar routine helped her feel a deeper sense of ease, but she didn’t really feel like herself until her bow was in her hands. She gripped it tightly as she left the house.

*

She meant to make a beeline for the woods. With the fence around District 12 now little more than a suggestion, she could enter the woods from a spot right outside her front door, but the flowers in her front garden made her pause, just as they had every morning since they were planted.

  They were thriving despite Katniss not touching them since Peeta had planted them. She’d caught him tending to them a few times, but he did most of it discreetly while she was in the woods or selling her catches in town.

  The way Peeta appeared to be ignoring her made her uneasy. Not that she could blame him for it.

  She understood because she didn’t have a clue how to act around him either. Everything was different, not even talking to Greasy Sae was the same as before the war. Returning to normalcy would have felt even weirder than the state they were in, but Katniss wished she knew how to better bridge the gap she still felt between her and Peeta.

  Glancing at his house, she noticed lights in the kitchen that indicated he was awake.

  With a sigh, she turned away from him and from the flowers and headed into the woods.

  *

  The last thing she expected when she returned home was Peeta sitting on her porch with a plate of cheese buns in his hands. 

  He’d been tending to the flowers he’d planted for months, yet she hadn’t needed to face him directly in nearly as long.

  There was a moment when she hesitated. Her bag was packed with several rabbits. She’d been planning to keep them to herself, but upon getting a glance of Peeta, she started formulating a new plan to take them into town and sell them before he caught sight of her.

  Her indecision lasted long enough that Peeta happened to glance in her direction, his senses better honed after two games and a war. He offered her a smile and a short wave.

  Katniss did her best to return it, but she could feel the embarrassment twisting her features into something more like a grimace. Peeta’s smile fell with his hand.

  She couldn’t run, but she approached him with the same caution she used when she stalked deer. Peeta looked more nervous than the deer often did.

  “What are you doing here?” Katniss snapped, her voice coming out hostile out of her fear.

  She hated that Peeta had that effect on her. He wasn’t anything like Snow or the gamemakers or anyone Katniss felt justified being frightened of, yet he made her tense up every time she was around him. It had only gotten worse since the war ended. And Katniss knew it wasn’t because of the Hijacking.

  Peeta held up the plate of cheese buns. Plastic was wrapped over the surface to keep them fresh, but their smell still wafted towards Katniss and warmed her.

  “I wanted to bring you these,” Peeta said.

  Katniss stared at the bread, trying to ignore the way her mouth had begun to water.

  He had baked for her family between the games, but he had almost always presented the bread to Prim or her mother. Katniss has mostly been able to pretend it was for them, not her. She couldn’t do that anymore.

  They both had the same income, so she knew this wasn’t some gesture of sympathy. She wasn’t the starving girl he’d once tossed burnt bread to. That would have been far easier to accept.

  She slid her game bag off her shoulder and pulled out one of the rabbits she’d killed. With the new laws, she hadn’t bothered to skin it in the forest, and its dead eyes stared back at Peeta as she held it up.

  “Take this,” she said, holding it out to him.

  Peeta eyed the rabbit with uncertainty.

  “Katniss,” he said slowly, “I really don’t want—“

  “If I take the cheese buns, you should take the rabbit.

  Peeta sighed and sat the plate of bread on a small table on the porch, one that hadn’t been sat in since her mother and Prim had fled during the bombing.

  “The bread’s supposed to be a gift, Katniss. I didn’t want it to feel like a transaction.”

  Katniss’ hand that held the rabbit fell to her side. Was that what she had been doing?

  She stared at the bread, which was much easier than looking at Peeta.

  “Okay,” she said, further words failing her.

  Her mind raced as she tried to work out what the appropriate next move was. It seemed polite to invite Peeta in and ask him to share the bread with her, but the idea was so terrifying that it kept her frozen in place instead.

  She took too long to do anything.

  Peeta ran a hand over his face and brushed past her to leave, her heart racing at his momentary proximity.

  Katniss squeezes her eyes shut, keeping her back to him as he hurried back home. She was left with nothing more than the cheese buns and a plate that she’d have to return.

  *

  In the months that followed, various baked goods showed up on Katniss’ porch while she was hunting. Half the time it was cheese buns; the other half of the time it was something else. But Peeta was never with them when Katniss returned.

  Each time, Katniss returned the platter to Peeta’s doorstep in the early morning when she set out for the woods. She didn’t knock. Instead, she scurried away, frightened he might open the door before she escaped, though he never did.

  Sometimes, she left things for him along with the dishes: wild strawberries like this family had always bought, rabbits, the occasional cut of deer meat. He took them all without reaching out to her, and at first, she was grateful.

  As time passed with little more than glimpses of Peeta as he came to and from town, Katniss began to long for any sort of contact she could make with him. 

  She thought long and hard about what she might say if she were brave enough to knock on his door, yet she never worked up the courage to find out.

  Her nerves didn’t turn into fear until the gifts stopped coming all together.

  There had been no baked goods on her doorstep for nearly a month; the realization made her stomach churn and her chest tighten.

  Peeta had gotten tired of baking for her. It wasn’t like she could blame him.

  Even then, she didn’t work up the courage to knock on his door.

  Knocking on Haymitch’s door was something else entirely. She couldn’t leave any of what she gathered in the woods on his doorstep because they’d rot without him knowing they were there, stinking up all of Victor’s Village.

  Instead, Katniss brought him food at least once a week, supplementing the supplies from town that Greasy Sae always brought by.

  He was half-cognizant of Katniss during one of her usual visits, watching her with a dazed look as she wandered around the kitchen to put everything where it belonged.

  She was just gathering her empty bag when Haymitch spoke in words that were more than lazy grunts.

  “How’s Peeta? He didn’t stop by this week.”

  Katniss hesitated, her hands tightening around the straps of her bag. Though it was empty, she took her time adjusting it before she answered.

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him that yourself. I haven’t talked to him, and I don’t think he wants to speak to me anymore either.”

  Haymitch let out a loud, undignified snort that made Katniss glare at him. He was unaffected as he slumped back in his chair and regarded her with lidded eyes.

  “I see the two of you are being as ridiculous as always,” he said, tilting his drink in her direction. “Especially you.”

  Even with the slurred words, Katniss was offended. At least she was functional. Haymitch spent his days drunk in his house with others taking care of him. What right did he have to judge her for anything?

  “He’s stopped leaving bread by my door,” she shot back. “That was him, not me. It’s clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  But her defense didn’t get rid of the knowing grin on Haymitch’s face. He pointed in the general direction of his kitchen window, nearly sliding off his chair as he did so.

  “Sometimes I bother to look out the window. Don’t think I’ve missed that perfectly tended garden outside your house. I know you’re not the one doing that.”

  Katniss froze, images of the flowers flashing through her mind.

  Of course she had noted that the garden was still as well taken care of as Peeta’s own, but she’d assumed that was more about the flowers than her. Peeta wasn’t the kind of person to let any creature, even flowers, die pointlessly. Of course he would continue tending to them.

  She turned her face towards Haymitch’s window. The early afternoon sun streamed through the crack in Haymitch’s curtains and warmed her face. She could get the blurriest of views of her own garden through the dusty glass.

  “Stop being ridiculous, sweetheart,” Haymitch said, raising his drink to take a swig. “Go talk to the boy.”

  She didn’t say anything to Haymitch as she turned to go, frowning at the drunken laughter she heard behind her.

  The sun was bright, and it hit her with full force the second she was outside of Haymitch’s darkened house. She had to squint to see Peeta’s house. The sunlight reflected off the white siding, stinging at her eyes.

  She glanced over at her own house, eyes scanning the flowers of various colors that lined the outside of it. The garden had only expanded since Peeta had last spoken to her. Maybe Haymitch was right and the garden was about more than just keeping existing flowers alive. Katniss glanced down at Haymitch’s own flower beds of nothing but dirt and weeds.

  Without allowing herself time to second guess the move, Katniss headed straight for Peeta’s door and knocked. 

  It took him mere seconds to answer, his gaze widening when he found Katniss on the other side.

  “Katniss?”

  His shirt was speckled with every color of paint imaginable. Some of it was old and dried, but some of it was undoubtedly new, shining in the afternoon light. There was even a bit of blue across his cheek. It was smeared as if he had tried to wipe it away only to fail. It took all of her willpower not to focus on it as she spoke.

  “Why did you stop bringing me bread?”

  If she was going to do this, there was no sense in beating around the bush about it. Peeta’s mouth opened and closed several times as he looked at her. Eventually, he motioned for her to come inside and closed the door behind her.

  Katniss’ eyes scanned the space. She hadn’t had many opportunities to see the inside of Peeta’s house, but the layout was the same as that of every other house in Victor’s Village. The decor, however, was entirely different. Katniss’ house was clean but plain. Haymitch’s was a mess. Peeta’s was something akin to an art studio, with paintings all over the walls, some hung with nails and others propped against it on the floor.

  “I didn’t think you wanted me around,” Peeta said from behind her.

  Katniss’ eyes kept scanning the paintings. It was easier to have this conversation if she didn’t look at him. One painting in particular caught her attention. To most, it would look like nothing more than an interesting design of various shades of gray. To Katniss, it was a wall of the cave they’d hidden in together during their first games.

  “Of course I wanted you around,” Katniss continued. It was much easier to blurt things out once she’d started. “I just didn’t know how to act or what to do.”

  Peeta sighed. She listened as he took several loud footsteps forward until he’d come to stand at her side. She didn’t look away from the painting.

  “There’s no one way you have to act, Katniss, but I can understand if you’re uncomfortable around me.”

  It took Katniss a second to realize that he was thinking about the highjacking. In all of her worries over Peeta not being around, that had been the farthest thing from her mind.

  She turned to look at him straight on. He was close, much closer than he’d been in a long time.

  “Sometimes I do get uncomfortable,” Katniss said quietly, “but it’s not because of that.”

  No, she’d forgiven him for that before he’d even arrived back in District 12, but that was a detail she couldn’t yet bring herself to reveal.

  “I’ve never—” she started to say before cutting herself off. There was no easy way to voice what was on her mind. “I don’t know exactly what we are, but whatever it is, it’s new to me. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

  The confession hung heavy in the air until Peeta smiled in a way that made her heart skip a beat. That was something new too. She hated the way it made her want to flee again, but she fought against the urge, staying rooted in place.

  Slowly, Peeta held out his hand, watching Katniss through long lashes. Katniss held her breath as she took it and let him link their fingers together. Both of them stared at their interlocked fingers, neither daring to make another move at first.

  It was the most physical Katniss had been with anyone in a long, long time. Even when her mother and sister had been around, she’d always felt uncomfortable about it unless it was from Prim, but Peeta’s hand around hers felt good. It almost made her want to cry.

  “I don’t expect anything,” Peeta said, giving her hand a squeeze. “But maybe we should be more open with each other. That might solve at least half of our problems.”

  He offered her a small smile that Katniss hesitantly returned along with a slow nod of her head.

  “And you can have space whenever you need space,” Peeta stressed, his brow furrowing suddenly.

  Katniss’ smile widened.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  She didn’t know what other words should be said. She felt like she should promise him something in return, but what that should be eluded her.

  It was silent for a moment, both of them lost in their own thoughts as their hands continued to dangle between them.

  “Actually,” Peeta said slowly, “I haven’t had much time for baking recently. I’ve been more focused on painting. There’s something kind of…large that I’ve been working on.”

  When Katniss only blinked at him in response, he continued.

  “Something for you. Even though I wasn’t sure I’d work up the courage to give it to you.”

  Katniss’ eyes widened, and her stomach fluttered in an unfamiliar way. She felt light-headed as Peeta led her by the hand to one of the rooms off the main hallway. It was the one he used as an art studio. Various canvases in half-finished states were scattered around the room, all of them abandoned for the particularly large canvas placed in the middle of the room. Peeta’s paints were laid out carefully around it.

  Katniss gasped the second she saw what was on the canvas. Though it was nowhere near finished, the figure was undoubtedly Prim.

  A smiling, happy Prim as opposed to the one who had been hardened by the rebellion and life in Thirteen. This was the Prim Katniss wanted to remember, and apparently, Peeta did too.

  Katniss hadn’t dared look at any false representation of Prim since she’d died, frightened that it would be too much for her, but seeing a reminder that someone else was thinking of Prim like she was—not just thinking of her but viewing her in such a way—left Katniss with a sense of comfort she hadn’t been expecting.

  Without thinking, Katniss surged forward and wrapped Peeta in a tight hug. He gripped her back just as tightly. She pressed her face against his t-shirt, able to feel places where the paint staining it hadn’t dried. It didn’t bother her. In a way, it was comforting.

  They had hugged before, of course, even when they weren’t faking it for the cameras. But they hadn’t really hugged in anything like real privacy. For once, they had something that was just for the two of them, and Katniss hadn’t expected how much comfort she gained from that.

  There was no telling how long they stayed locked in their embrace. Neither of them bothered to check the time. But eventually, they did pull away, smiling stupidly at each other as they did so.

  “And, Katniss,” Peeta said as he led her towards the kitchen, “I don’t need any meat in exchange for this one.”

  He motioned at the painting over his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. Katniss paused in her step, watching the spot where he’d disappeared for a minute as she debated the proper response.

  She shook her head. There was no proper response. She would have to stop worrying about things like that. Instead, she smiled and followed.