#my brother in third grade played call of duty!

[5nake-eater]

While Fortnite is bad for microtransactions and how they treat their developers, I am very thankful that it is the multiplayer game most kids play nowadays as opposed to Call of Duty, which should not be played by any human being on Earth

[tsukkiibaby]

haikyuu boys as camp counselors!

these are 10000% inspired by the time i was a day camp counselor for a few summers with my friend and brother. 10/10 recommend (not the working with your brother thing but like). camp counselor!au (where like they’ve played volleyball in the past but aint no one still doin it) feat: bokuto, kita, kuroo, oikawa genre: fluff

bokuto acts more like a child than some of your own campers do. 

the camp directors knew exactly what they were doing when they hired him as a counselor, placing him in charge of a group of rowdy incoming sixth grade boys. you, being a counselor yourself, were responsible for one of the groups of incoming sixth grade girls, meaning you see bokuto for roughly 75% of your day. now that wasn’t a bad thing (not when bokuto looks like that), but it is pretty similar to having an extra camper around. riling you up more than your own campers do at times, bokuto knows exactly how to push your buttons. he pokes at your cheeks, sides, and bare arms, whining and pouting when you don’t give him your attention immediately (just like your campers). too bad he wants your attention all the time.

bokuto waits for you at the edge of the parking lot every morning, a large grin on his face as he offers to hold your morning coffee and phone while you rifle through the small backpack you use during the camp season. he playfully bickers with the other fifth and sixth grade counselors over drop off duty if he sees you making your way to the designated area in front of the cabins. at lunch, he always makes sure that where his group sits is no more than two tables away from the one you’re at, especially so he can get your attention when he tries to do something impressive with his food. more often than not, it ends in disaster, but hey, at least he got to see your cute smile and laugh.

in passing and on your way to activities, he’ll always try to make conversation with you, much to the chagrin of both groups of your campers. whatever specialist is leading the activity you’re headed to better hope that bokuto and his group isn’t remotely close to them, because then he’ll never stop trying to get your attention. but it doesn’t stop there. as one of the stars of the camp’s staff softball team, he’s always asking you if you’re going to the games, all but begging to see you off camp grounds so he can really flirt with you.

kita is the camp’s resident golden boy. 

coming in with high praise from the owners of the camp themselves, he is the embodiment of an ideal counselor. he’s responsible and punctual, his group always on time to activities, not one camper lagging behind. not to mention his third grade boys absolutely adore him, running up to him with grins on their faces, calling his name as they get close. he’s never loud or mean with them, but he can get them to listen easily with one look of his “serious” face (spoiler alert: you’ve seen it, and it’s more cute than firm). and it seems that he’s always around when your third grade girls give you a hard time, appearing at your side to firmly ask that they listen to what you’re saying. 

he always has extra water and sunscreen on hand, ready to offer to you when you need it or forget (it’s not like there’s multiple water jugs and places to find sunscreen). he’ll wave to you in passing with a smile on his face, and if he wasn’t so hellbent on making sure his campers are on time, he’d stop to chat with you. rest assured, he talks to you the most at lunch, when he’s not held captive by his group of chatty third graders. he’ll slide up to your side as you assemble your salad to ask how your day’s been, his fingers brushing up against yours as he reaches for the same serving spoon as you (an accident, he’ll claim cheekily). on the off chance that your groups are at activities relatively close to each other, he’ll get them all settled with the specialist and mumble to his co-counselor that he’ll be right back, determined to get your attention for even the smallest bit of time. his favorite part of the day, however, is right after the last activity of the day ends. while all the third and fourth graders gather their things and rush behind the cabin to talk with their friends, it’s you he’s heading towards. plopping himself down on the wooden table next to you, he slides his larger frame as close to yours as he could, craning his head down to finally have an uninterrupted conversation.

kuroo is the epitome of a try hard.

always one of the first to arrive in the morning, he sits at the table outside of the fourth graders' cabins with two iced coffees, offering you the second if he sees you without one (he claims they’re both for him, but he’d much rather see the smile spread across your face when he hands it to you). his loud voice constantly echoes throughout the camp, and you swear you can hear it even when he’s at an activity on the opposite side of the grounds. he uses it to his advantage, to be a shit stirrer. he’ll call out your name from across the fields to tease you about whatever activity you’re doing with your group. you don’t hold back either, and he loves it, watching with wide eyes as you tell him to watch his mouth or you’ll stick your fourth grade girls on him. it almost always ends with you slyly flipping him off.

he’s probably (definitely) the most competitive person between the staff and campers, always participating in whatever activity his group is at. he doesn’t even care what the activity is as long as it gets his adrenaline going. if your group is scheduled for the same activity or relatively close, he won’t hesitate to try to show off for you. kuroo will make just about anything a competition, leaning down to his fourth graders to tell them about the challenge he just thought of, offering them his cookie at lunch if they can beat him at whatever activity he proposes. they never win, unless he’s going easy on them, but you still watch him slip the camper a cookie when they’re not looking.

his competitive spirit doesn’t stop there, and he’s constantly trying to get you to agree to his stupid little competitions. he always tries to involve the other third and fourth grade counselors, but you’re the only one he really cares about playing. it’s even worse when you guys are paired together or on the same team for any counselor based activities, the tall man doing whatever he can to ensure that he’s one upping you. he always bounces up to you at the end, however, sending a grin your way and a sly remark about how someday you’ll reach his level.

oikawa is loved by everyone.

all the campers and staff absolutely adore the suave fifth grade boys counselor, and it makes your job about 10 times harder. your group of fifth grade girls ogle over him daily, running straight for their so-called “favorite” counselor the second they get off the bus or out of their parents’ car. whether he’s standing in front of the cabins for drop off duty, sitting on a table behind the cabins, or walking to the bathroom, he’ll always have a little group of campers crowding his personal space. he’ll wiggle his eyebrows teasingly at you when you fail to get your group to break away from him for the morning announcements, clapping his hands together to send your campers off to you.

he’s always trying to walk alongside you to activities, bumping his bare shoulder against yours so you’ll engage in conversation. letting your groups linger a few paces ahead of you, he’ll stay close to your side so he can talk to you about your day. staff members try to talk to you as your groups walk to their activity, but he only offers them a wave in passing - he won’t let anything interrupt his precious conversation with you. if you don’t answer right away or deny him attention for too long, he’ll act like he’s been shot, whispering loudly to your campers that you’re being mean to him. it works almost every time.

swim is where he really shines. instructional swim is fine - he gets to take his break with his friends and relax, but free swim is his favorite activity by far. he’ll slip off his shirt and into the shallow end of the large pool for the fifth and sixth graders, ignoring the stares of the other counselors and lifeguards. you saunter around the pool deck, a watchful eye on your group from behind the frames of your sunglasses, ignoring his pleas and whines for you to join him. you cave in to his request more often than not, especially on hot days, sliding yourself in as deep as your naval. he’ll always have a towel ready for you by the time the whistle blows, signifying the end of the period, a sly wink sent your way when you take it from him.

[itsdanii]

I really love your “rejecting and regretting” drabbles and I would love to request one with Suna and Iwaizumi please

Rejecting you and regretting it pt. 3

hey, bub. thanks for requesting! im so glad you're liking my works ♥️ was supposed to post this yesterday but i had an appointment with my psychologist so sorry for the slight delay. that being said, here's your request for iwaizumi and suna. i hope you like it♥️

genre: slight angst to fluff, slight crack

warnings: cursing, rude behavior (resolved), please do message me if i forgot any

ft. suna rintaro, oikawa!reader x iwaizumi hajime

title says it all.

Suna Rintaro

out of all the inarizaki boys, suna rintaro was the one who managed to pique your interest

at first, you thought that he was the most quiet amongst the group but the longer you stayed as a manager, the more you realized how wrong you were

In fact, suna is one of the most talkative, along with the miya twins

you even felt bad sometimes for kita for having to discipline the three as if they were his own kids

one day, you suddenly realized that you were falling for the middle blocker

you knew that it was not a good practice to fall for someone in a team you manage but it's not like you can control who you fall for, right?

and so, you made a decision to confess to him

"Oi, y/n! What's that yer holding?"

You squeaked upon being called by Atsumu and quickly hid the cake you were holding behind your back. Smiling awkwardly, you made your way to him and placed the cake on top of the table.

It was currently lunch time and as a usual routine, you, Osamu, Atsumu and Rin were meeting at your spot just near the gym to eat.

"Can you atleast lower your voice? The moment the others see this cake, it'll be gone in a snap of a finger," you scolded at him.

"Cake? What's it for?" As if a light suddenly appeared on top of Atsumu's head, he took the box and opened it with sparkling eyes. "Looks good!"

"No, wait!"

Your lips parted as you watched him take the fork that you put inside and sliced a piece for himself. He even let out a small moan of satisfaction as the taste of the cake filled his mouth.

"That...was for Rin," you said with a tiny voice, making Atsumu raise an eyebrow at you.

"Suna? Why are ya givin' him a cake?" Noticing the way you failed to answer, a grin started forming on Atsumu's lips as the realization came into him. "Holy shit, ya like him!"

"Like who?"

You and Atsumu both froze at the sound of Suna's voice. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you slowly turned around to face Suna who was now frowning at you.

"Rin-chan..." you said slowly.

Suna and Osamu both took their seats, Osamu sitting beside Atsumu and Suna sitting beside you.

"Y/n likes someone?" Osamu asked and took the fork to taste the cake you made, his face lightening up as it somehow reached his standards.

Being the goofy one, Atsumu nodded with a grin. He spared Suna a quick glance before wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully. "Mhm. The one they like is actually a part of the volleyball team. Any guess, Rin-chan?"

Despite the nervousness you're feeling, you managed to roll your eyes at Atsumu as he tried imitating the way you call Suna.

Suna just shrugged his shoulders, looking almost unbothered if not for the fact that he was gripping his chopsticks a little too tightly. "Don't know, don't care."

You felt your confidence drop a little at his lack of enthusiasm. "Aren't you even just a bit curious?" you asked, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

"No, why would I be? It's not like it's any of my business. You can like whoever you want to like. It's not like I give a damn about it," Suna simply answered.

The small hope inside you that you gathered throughout the whole week just to confess completely vanished, replaced with doubt and sudden insecurity. The way he said those words seemed as if he doesn't care about you at all and the fact that he said it in front of the twins made it even worse. You felt humiliated.

You glanced at Atsumu for help and the setter just sighed before sliding the box of the now half eaten cake to Suna. "Didn't have to be so rude 'bout it, Rin. Taste the cake. Maybe it'll change yer mind and make ya realize how dense ya are."

Suna just glared at him and took a bite, his eyes darting towards your figure. "Were you supposed to give this cake to the person you like?"

Seeing you nod, Suna rolled his eyes. "I don't think it's a good idea. It tastes like shit, I'm sure the guy would reject you the moment he takes a bite."

Your heart dropped at what he said. Not only did he say that your cooking was bad but also rejected you without saying it directly. The moment you felt your eyes tearing up, you immediately stood up and left the table, ignoring the continues yells of a certain miya.

Suna stared at your back before frowning at Atsumu. "What's up their ass? I just said it didn't taste good is all. They didn't have to be sensitive." Contrary to his words, Suna grabbed the fork and continued eating the cake.

"They made the cake for ya, dumbass," Atsumu answered and stood up, quickly grabbing his things before leaving to follow you.

Suna froze upon realizing what Atsumu meant. Eyes darting towards Osamu, he muttered a small curse before gripping his hair in frustration. "Samu..."

Not even waiting for what Suna wanted to say, Osamu shook his head no with a displeased look. "Ya fucked up big time. Sorry but I can't help ya with this one."

-

Suna was on his own.

No matter how much he tried convincing the twins to help him, neither of them agreed. He didn't know how to approach you after what happened. You basically ignored him even during practices, only doing your duties and talking to him when instructed by Kita.

Several days went on yet you were still ignoring him, and to say that Suna was getting fed up was an understatement. Not only were you ignoring him but you were also spending too much time with Atsumu.

Sure, he was aware that you two are bestfriends, but that doesn't mean that it wouldn't turn into something more. After all, Atsumu was a likeable guy. It wouldn't be impossible for you to fall in love with someone like him.

And so, the moment Suna saw Atsumu almost kissing your cheek, he snapped.

With fast strides, he went over to your direction and pulled you away from your bestfriend who only shrugged his shoulders and went on his way as if nothing happened.

Suna stopped when you reached an empty classroom and he immediately shut the door behind him for privacy. "I'm sorry for being rude to you last time," he started.

"You weren't only rude to me, ya know?" you said and averted your gaze from him. "You also rejected me. I know that I haven't directly confessed to you yet but it still hurt. I just assumed that maybe I had a chance since we were close with each other. I'm sorry for-"

"Please, don't," Suna said to cut you off. He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, regret visible on his face. "Don't apologize for liking me."

"But Rin..."

"I don't want you to take it back. I like you too, y/n. So please..." Suna dropped his arms to his sides and rested his forehead on your shoulder before muttering, "Please don't ignore me anymore. I promise I'll love you the way you deserve."

You felt yourself soften at his words and despite how much what he said last time hurt you, you knew that deep inside, your heart belongs to him. You brought your hand up to run your fingertips over Suna's hair before nodding. "I won't ignore you anymore, Rin. You know why?"

He lifted his head up to look at you hopefully. "Because you like me?"

"You guessed right."

The moment you said those words, Suna immediately placed his hand on your jaw, angling your head up to him. "And I like you too."

Not able to hold himself back anymore, Suna leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, your eyes closing as you savored the feeling of finally kissing the man you like.

Iwaizumi Hajime

Iwaizumi is your brother's bestfriend

The first time you saw him was when you were in first grade, him and Tooru being a year older than you

Despite the small age gap, you still grew close with him as most of your time, you spent with Haji watching random movies and playing volleyball

When you entered high school, you only became closer to them

He protected you from bullies and those people who only wanted to use you in order to get closer to your brother

At first, you didn't notice that you were falling for him, thinking that you were just attached to him after being by his side for such a long time

But when you realized that your gazes lingered on him longer, your mind started wondering the feeling of his hand holding yours, and the way your heart fluttered everytime he was close, you knew that you've fallen for him deep

It was a Friday night, both you and Tooru were dressed in your pajamas as you waited in your room for Iwaizumi to finish making the popcorn.

Today, you all scheduled a movie night since this was the only time the three of you are free. Being a third year and a volleyball player at the same time was hard on both your brother and Iwaizumi's time and often times, you had to cancel due to them having an early practice.

Luckily for you, it seemed that their coach finally had mercy and decided to give them a weekend break.

You, on the other hand, had lots of free time in your hand since your workload isn't as heavy as theirs which is why you were always the one who adjusted when it comes to the schedule of your movie marathon night.

"Iwa-chan, gimme the one with more popcorn!" Tooru immediately said as soon as Iwaizumi stepped inside your room, balancing two bowls of popcorn in his hold.

You rolled your eyes at your brother and stood up to help Iwaizumi, purposely showing your brother how you took the one with more popcorn in it. "Sucker," you said, sticking your tongue out at him.

Iwaizumi sighed at your attitude and plopped down beside you which made your heart flutter as always.

When the movie started, you noticed how much the two were so focused on the screen. You felt a little guilty since you were basically the one who suggested the movie yet you were the one who isn't paying attention.

How can you even focus if your crush is literally sitting beside you on your bed?

You could even smell him by how close he is beside you. You were, after all, crushed in between him and your brother, a blanket covering the three of you as you squished yourselves in your bed.

As the movie went on, you felt your eyelids getting heavier. You let out a small yawn and rubbed your eyes, the sound of the people talking on the screen making you feel drowsy instead of stopping you from sleeping.

Iwaizumi, who had noticed the way your head was swaying from side to side, gently took the half empty bowl of popcorn from your hold and wiped your fingers with a baby wipe. He then carefully guided your head to rest on his shoulder before refocusing his attention on the movie.

When you woke up, the room was silent. The television was already turned off and the lamp was already turned on. You looked beside you and noticed that the spaces beside your bed were already empty, reminding you that you must've fallen asleep and Iwaizumi and Tooru must've transfered to their rooms already.

Feeling your throat demanding for some water, you slid off your bed and made your way towards the kitchen. As you grabbed the glass, you almost dropped it upon seeing a reflection of a man behind you.

"You scared me," you whispered into the quietness as you came face to face with your brother's bestfriend.

He chuckled and ruffled your hair before grabbing himself his own glass, eyes staring at you as he downed the water within seconds. "Sorry. I didn't expect you to wake up since you always sleep like a log," he said with a grin.

You lightly smacked his chest, your cheeks heating up as you felt his hard muscles, no doubt the results of playing his sport.

A small growl coming from your stomach suddenly disturbed the silence, Iwaizumi's laugh immediately booming throughout the kitchen as you blushed in embarrassment. "Shut up. I only ate popcorn, you know?"

Shaking his head with a small smile, Iwaizumi pointed at the stool before saying, "Go sit. I'll whip you up something to eat."

You immediately obliged and couldn't stop yourself from smiling as you admired his back while he cooked. "Neh, Haji," you called out.

"Hm?" he hummed, throwing a quick glance at you.

"Do you like someone?"

You knew that asking such question was bold of you, especially when neither of you totally expected it. You didn't even know how the words managed to get out of your lips. All you knew was that if there was a perfect time to confess, it would be now.

After all, with your brother enjoying his time in dream land, nobody would disturb the both of you. It was serene, and you hoped that the outcome would be just as serene as the moment.

"Where's this coming from? Is this your way of trying to confess to me?" Iwaizumi said with a chuckle.

"And what if it is? What are you going to do?" You bit your lower lip anxiously as you waited for his reply.

But instead of embracing you and confessing his feelings too just like you expected, you were greeted with the seriousness of Iwaizumi when he spun around. He walked over to you and and placed the freshly cooked Omirice infront of you.

"Then I'd have to reject you," he answered simply, his voice sounding as if the topic wasn't up for any discussion.

"Why? Is it because I'm Tooru's sibling?" You frowned at him and crossed your arms over your chest. "You know that wouldn't change anything if you date me, right? You'd still be Tooru's bestfriend."

"I already said I'd reject you. That's it, end of discussion." With that, he turned his back on you and made his way out of the kitchen.

But before he can even completely walk out on you, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. "But I like you, Haji. I always have.." You voice seemed tiny all of a sudden and your grip on his wrist tightened instinctively when you felt him removing your grip easily with his free hand.

"I'm sorry but I don't like you, y/n. Now, let go and stop with your delusions because no matter what you do, I'll never like you."

You felt your heart shatter at those words, tears quickly streaming down your cheeks as you watched him walk away, leaving you all alone in the now empty kitchen.

Guess you don't always get what you want, huh?

The rest of the weekend, you did your best avoiding Iwaizumi to make sure that you don't make him uncomfortable. You made sure to stay cooped up in your room until you were certain that Iwaizumi had already left. Heck, you even rejected your brother's offer when he asked if you wanted to go meet up with rest of the boys at the mall.

You knew that Tooru wasn't unaware that something happened since you've never rejected any offer when it comes to shopping. But even if he did, he sure stayed quiet about it and gave you space which you were thankful for.

A week rolled by and Iwaizumi was starting to get antsy. His spikes were not as good and his movements were too sloppy to the point that their coach had to sub him out during one of their practice games.

As he sat on the bench, his mind went back to the time he rejected you. Back then, he was sure that he did the right decision. He was a third year and you were only in your second year. Not only would it seem that he was after some kid, he would also look like an asshole who only befriended Oikawa for his sibling.

But that was before.

Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. He missed your affection towards him and the way you cared for him. He missed how you often visit their practice and give him first his water bottle instead of Tooru. He missed your playful banter and the way you irritate him by simply joining forces with your brother.

Fuck, he missed you.

And the way he only realized it now made it even worse.

Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration, and when he saw someone handling him a water bottle, he instantly lifted his head up expecting to see you. Except it wasn't you, it was Tooru.

He mumbled a small "Thanks," before sighing evidently, making Tooru raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Just what happend between you and y/n?"

Seeing the panic on Iwaizumi's expression, Tooru just rolled his eyes. "Don't even try denying it, Iwa-chan. I'm not that stupid, you know? Y/n's basically isolating themselves inside their room as if they're scared that you might visit anytime and you.. your play sucks that even Makki and Matsun noticed it."

"Didn't have to remind me," Iwaizumi grunted.

"Hmm," Tooru pressed a finger to his chin as if he was thinking, eyes slightly widening as he remembered something. "Is it because they finally confessed to you?"

"How did you-"

"Oh it's simple! I heard my dearest sibling practicing their confession several times before you came last Saturday. I didn't expect them to confess that early though. The confession sounded too plain for my liking," Tooru said with a hum.

Iwaizumi could only look at him with parted lips. How come Tooru seemed unbothered by the thought of you confessing? Wasn't he supposed to act like a protective brother?

Noticing the way Iwaizumi was staring at him, Tooru pouted. "What're you looking at, Iwa-chan? You're not thinking of dating me instead, are you?"

"Dumbass. I'm thinking why you seem too relaxed at the idea of your sibling confessing to me," Iwaizumi said, hitting the back of Tooru's head.

"Eh? Why? Did you expect me to go apeshit on you?" Tooru chuckled. "Don't worry Iwa-chan, I completely approve of you dating them! Just don't try to hurt their feelings or I'll be mad for sure!"

"But I already rejected them." Iwaizumi groaned and rested his head against his palm out of frustration.

Tooru, who seemed to gain sympathy at his partner, patted his back and said, "Then we'll just have to do something about it, don't we?"

-

When you arrived home, the house was eerily quite. The lights were all off making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You knew how much Tooru hated coming home with the lights off so you always made sure to leave it on in case you arrive later than him.

"Tooru?" you called out as you switched the lights on. You surveyed the whole living room and kitchen but your brother was nowhere to be found.

Shrugging your shoulders, you went up to your room and almost screamed at the sight of a man sitting on top of your bed, a bouquet of flowers in hand along with a bunny stuffed toy.

"Why do you always have to scare the shit out of me? I swear one of these days, I'll die of heart attack because of you," you scolded as you closed the door behind you. You discarded your bag on the couch and stood in front of Iwaizumi with your arms crossed over your chest. "What's all this about?"

Scratching the back of his head, Iwaizumi spared a quick glance at your wardrobe before sighing. "They're um... They're for you." He handed you the flowers and the bunny, eyes watching you warily as you smelled the pink roses.

You weren't unaware of what was happening. You always witness these kinds of things but since you were still hurt about what he said, you decided that you wouldn't give in to him that easily.

"Thank you," you answered dryly before placing the roses on top of your study desk.

Iwaizumi cannot help but panic because of this. Have you already decided that you no longer like him? What if you already got yourself a boyfriend? His thoughts started running wild inside his head and it was only when you touched his shoulder that he was brought back to the reality.

"Sorry...I," Iwaizumi fisted his hands on his sides before continuing. "I'm sorry for hurting your feelings, y/n. I didn't want to reject you. I actually like you but I got scared. I mean, you're Oikawa Y/n, my bestfriend's sibling. I didn't want you to think that I was only friends with your brother because I like you. In the end, I hurt you and god knows how stupid I am for doing such thing."

By this time, Iwaizumi's eyes were closed, afraid of looking at your reaction. He was even biting his lips and if not for the seriousness of the moment, you would've took a picture of his adorableness.

"I guess an apologizing Haji, is a cute Haji," you said with a smile making his eyes open.

"Shut up," he said shyly with the tips of his ears turning red. "I'm being serious, you know?"

"And I'm being serious as well. I'm not kidding when I said you're being cute right now," you said, continuing to tease him.

"Y/n."

You giggled at the warning in his tone. "Alright, alright. 'm sorry." You took his hand in yours and gave it a small squeeze before lifting your gaze up to him, all signs of goofiness now vanishing from your face and replaced with honesty and admiration. "I like you too, Haji. I still do."

"Shit." Iwaizumi smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist, his strong arms lifting you off the ground out of happiness.

You squealed as you were lifted and you encircled your arms around his neck to cling to him.

"Gosh, Iwa-chan! My sister said she likes you too and the first thing you say is shit?!" Tooru said as he revealed his presence, his hand rubbing his back at the ache for staying too long in the cramped closet.

You gave Iwaizumi a few taps on his back which he immediately understood. He placed you down and grinned as he watched you taking your brother out of your room by pulling at his ear.

"Ouch, y/n-chan! Iwa-chan, help me!"

Iwaizumi just chuckled as the door infront of him slammed shut, the shouts of Tooru as you hit him bringing a sense of satisfaction to Iwaizumi.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

[faerieinferngully]

trigger warning (just overall)

even tho i hope nobody rly sees this i just want to say SOMETHING even if it's to a void.

i can't get over it. i can't get over how many times i tried to tell someone and then nothing happened, and when i finally just came out and said it, i was called a liar and am still being called a liar. how nobody could see what was going on. is it because i couldn't remember the details correctly? im sorry that 12 year old me couldn't recall the rape an molestation of what started when i wasn't even potty trained yet. im sorry i couldn't give exact dates and im sorry i didnt save the underwear he took off of me. im sorry that your kids having a father was mor important than getting them away from a rapist. im sorry for my siblings for backing out and being called liars and being told that i was the one that told them to, i didn't. i told you to ask them because i fucking knew what was happening every time you were gone and he wanted to play hide n seek n he switched from counting with me in the room with all the lights off to one of them. he was doing the same thing to them. you can even see the effects of it in them. one is too scared to go anywhere and hates being away from home or her family and the other has been hypersexual and hyperfixates on sex since he was little. you can see everything i am in him and i dont know if it's because i know why i was like that when i was little that i see it so clear or if it's just that blatantly obvious that you're choosing to ignore it. i don't know if you really thought i was lying or you just didn't care and wanted a family that wasn't broken. you didn't get it. im sorry to my siblings and friends for when i was stuffing powder in my nose and swelling down little pebbles and drinking fluids i thought would make it go away. i was a shitty person and there are people im unable to apologize to and i respect their need to be away from me. i know im better off without the medicated candies and the sour liquid, but i can't help but miss it. it made me feel better but it was at the cost of others. i can get past the people that have beaten me, but i can't get past being raped and i don't know why. maybe it's because the first one who did it was someone who was so loud about hating it. did he start when i was a baby or did he wait until i was a toddler because he liked seeing me try to get away from him? everyone knows i "lied" about him doing it, very few people know that it was never a lie. i remember in third grade when we lived in the townhouses, and i told my neighbors. one of them told me her brother did the same thing to her, we told our friend. we both went back and took it back. i didnt know why she did it, but now i see it was the same reason i did, that we were scared. we were scared of what was going to happen to us. we were scared of what was going to be said, what our families were going to do. i wish i protected my siblings from it. but i didnt, and i couldnt. i know people have told me i was a baby myself, it wasnt my duty, but it was. i was the oldest, i am the oldest. i shouldve made sure they were never alone with him, but i couldn't find the courage to get us out. i was a fucking coward and i'll never be able to forgive myself for it. i hate myself for letting it happen to them. i hate myself for so many things but that is the main thing that will always be burning within me. i wish i told her sooner, because even though she got back with him, he stopped afterwards. something i've always found funny was that when he was allowed to be with us again, he took me to the store with him alone. i remember being terrified he was going to go off the path we were walking to touch me more. but he asked why i lied. we were alone. he had no reason to accuse me of lying when he asked in the same townhouse if i "like what we're doing" and acted hurt when i said no. we always called it "tickling" because that's what it started as. he would always start tickling me and then pul my pants and underwear down and start rubbing it there. then he would keep going until the time we were alone and quiet (when someone else was in the house) would seem weird, because none of us kids were

[ootori-sibs]

Through the eyes of the patriarch

1 - The proposal

Tw: death (mentioned) (not main character)

Yoshio Ootori had four children, one daughter and three sons. All of his children were wonderful, he was so very proud of them all. High society from all of the world could see how the Ootori children were a cut above the rest, they were Yoshio's magnum opus, his life's work. His company was important to him, of course it was- but his children were what he was most proud of.

Yuuichi, his eldest son, the dark prince. He was the sweetheart of high society and the most intelligent young man Yoshio had ever known. He'd gotten through medical school early and taken up a position as Yoshio's right hand man fairly quickly. He was the heir to both the company and the Ootori name, the young man would eventually become patriarch of the Ootori family and Yoshio couldn't be prouder. He was an expert when it came to getting people on his side and didn't even need to turn to blackmail or any sorts of things like that- despite being more than capable of doing so.

Fiyumi was his darling daughter, she had a husband now and was happily providing Yoshio with grandchildren now. Yoshio deeply regretted the way he'd treated her, and was working on making that relationship better. She was a wonderful young woman, looking so much like her mother and having the same spitfire attitude. She was just as intelligent as her brothers; having gone through school with straight A grades and proceeding to get qualified to practice as a nurse- even after all that, she was now considering becoming a surgeon as well. On top of being shockingly intelligent and determined, she was exceedingly compassionate. Yoshio could remember seeing her rush to her youngest brother's side at a moment's notice, comforting him over the smallest mishap… he couldn't say it hadn't made him feel inferior. As their father, wasn't that supposed to be his job? Although he supposed that job belonged to their late mother, and without her, Fiyumi seemed to have taken a maternal role in little Kyoya's life. It was incredible how she'd done that, pushing away any professional help offered and still managing to get straight As all throughout school.

Akito was the third child, second son and the boy you would later become Yuuichi's right hand man. Still in university, the boy was just as intelligent as his elders, although he lacked both common sense and manners. It was clear the boy was rebelling, because as much as he still got perfect grades, he liked to attend parties with the commoners at his university, and openly drink on top of that. Yoshio was… disapproving but definitely not disappointed, as long as Akito kept his grades up- then Yoshio's only qualm would be one of health and image. The Ootori's had always had issues with anger, but Akito seemed to inherit the brunt of it, flying off the handle at the smallest thing. Yoshio had provided him with counselling, and it definitely worked but he still could get a little violent when violence really wasn't called for. Yoshio was, however, incredibly proud of how far he'd grown since starting counselling at age nine.

Then, there was Kyoya. The youngest, the baby of the family, the shadow, the black sheep of the family. Kyoya was… different from his brothers, Yoshio couldn't quite put his finger on why. Kyoya got the same perfect grades as his siblings, he was the exact same master manipulator as his brothers, he even looked the same as his brothers. Maybe it was that little club Kyoya helped run, Yoshio definitely didn't approve of it; all that running about and serving ladies, flirting with them no less! It was more or less a more innocent version of offering services, and Yoshio could not stand for his son participating in such behaviour. Although… Kyoya had made friends, that was something the boy had always struggled with. Yoshio was proud of that at least, not to mention Kyoya was showing off his financial prowess, he was the only thing keeping that damned club afloat. It was impressive, but even more impressive was the way Kyoya had snatched the company from under his feet, then thrown it right back in his face. Yoshio had never been prouder of Kyoya then the moment he'd realised Kyoya had been the one to do that to him, that Kyoya had found something more important than the family company.

"How do you do it? You're so affectionate towards your son, I can't even seem to smile at mine."

A laugh, Souh had chuckled at him, pouring another glass of wine for himself, "you flatter me Yoshio, I'm not half as affectionate with Tamaki as you seem to think. I mean, I couldn't even let him call me father at the festival!"

"Well you weren't there as his father, you were there to be the chairman, you couldn't waste your time playing happy families when you had the entire festival to watch over."

The laughter stopped, Yuzuru took a sip of wine before putting the glass down. He frowned, staring at the newton's cradle on Yoshio's desk, "listen, do you hear yourself speak? Spending time with your children isn't wasting it, they shouldn't be second to your job."

"I know that, I'm not an idiot. I just think if you were on duty then there's nothing wrong with being a little more professional than you would usually. My children understand they need to behave professionally when we're networking, isn't the festival just a networking event after all?"

Yuzuru nods thoughtfully, tilting the wineglass slightly, watching the liquid swirl. Yoshio quietly took a sip of his whiskey, he'd always been more of a drinker then Souh. "I suppose you're right, but I still think that your problem is acting too professionally, I don't think I've ever seen you do anything casual. I mean, even right now, when we're just relaxing, we're both still wearing suits and you haven't even taken your jacket off nor loosened your tie."

"I prefer it tight." Yoshio glanced away, understanding that this wasn't the point, he'd seen it in all his children. The lack of ability to turn off 'business mode', staying fully professional constantly. None of them ever learnt how to be casual, and Yoshio supposed that was his fault. To be fair to him, though, he'd never learnt it himself, although maybe he shouldn't have tried to imitate his own parents' parenting strategy if it had turned out the villain of high society he was. Although he supposed at least part of the burden had fallen to his wife, that woman had failed just as much as he had. It was merely Yoshio's duty to pick up the pieces, alone.

"Old friend… you haven't changed a bit have you?" Yuzuru reached over, putting a hand on Yoshio's shoulder, Yoshio had to bite back the instinct to flinch back, wondering if his children were the same. "They aren't you, remember that Yoshio, they have different needs and are in a different situation then you were. They don't have your parents to raise them, you know what they do have?"

"What..?"

"They have you, Yoshio. You're their father, you need to support them. What were you like at each of their ages? They're not like you are they?"

"No," Yoshio finally admitted, sighing, "they're not, they're so much better." His children were so much better people then he was, they had relationships that exceeded mere business deals, they could give without expecting anything in return. They were… people, something Yoshio had always failed to be.

"I wouldn't say that, I'd say they're just different people… do you remember being each of their ages?"

He nodded, finishing his whiskey and pouring a second glass. Yuzuru smiled at that, "remember what you wanted more then anything?"

Yoshio recalled Yuuichi's determination to gain more and power sway over the company and smiled fondly, "power…" he remembered Fiyumi's care and affection to everyone she met, the way she worked so hard to be what everyone wanted, "perfection…" then there was Akito, the one who rebelled and was quite clear in his attempt to piss Yoshio off, "freedom…" was that not what he wanted? To be apart from the family? Finally, there was Kyoya, and Yoshio wasn't sure of what Kyoya wanted at all, "..." he sighed, downing his glass of whiskey in one. "I don't know what they want, they're kids, they don't know either."

Yuzuru frowned, crossing his arms, "Yoshio," his tone was stern, no one had taken that tone with him since he was a child, it certainly made him sit up, "you can't just give up because you don't understand what your kids need. I know what Tamaki wants, and I know he's a lot more open then your children, but you know what Tamaki also is? He's best friends with Kyoya, I can tell you what your youngest wants." He sipped his wine, observing Yoshio's shock, and Yoshio was sure as hell shocked. How hadn't he thought of that? He supposed he hadn't assumed Kyoya would ever be so open with anyone. Yuzuru spoke again, placing the wine glass down, "Kyoya wants your praise and affection, that's all he's ever wanted. It's quite obvious, it's what any child would want from their father. Didn't you want that from your own parents when you were younger?"

"I try not to reminisce, it wastes time." He glanced away, "I don't believe the boy needs affection, he's seventeen. He should be focused on his studies," he paused, realising they were going in circles, he sighed, "even if you were right, he's a little too old for that now, isn't he? What am I supposed to do?"

"Well you should at least tell him you're proud of him."

"If I say that then he'll get lazy, he'll have nothing to work for."

"If you think that your praise is your son's only motivator, then you're more conceited then I thought." Yoshio had never heard Souh sound so cruel before, it almost made him sound like Shizue. He sighed, surprised by how tough his friend was being, but understanding why. Yuzuru was right, what Yoshio had said was incredibly self centered, and Yoshio already knew Kyoya had found something he cared about more. What Yoshio was more worried about, was that he had no idea how to express how much he loved his son.

"My mistake, that wasn't the correct thing to say." He admitted his fault, staring into the bottle of whiskey, watching the liquid sparkle in the light. "How would you recommend I go about it?"

"Just show him you've been thinking about him; maybe get the cooks to make his favourite food if you've noticed him looking extra tired, you could buy him something if you see it and think of him, you could ask him how school's going or complement his abilities, all you really have to do is care about him."

Yoshio nodded, understanding now, "so, all I have to do is give him attention really?" He hums in thought, "I have been considering finding him a wife, everyone else his age has a fiancée by now."

Well not everyone, but Yoshio had always considered that the best way for Kyoya to be useful, not to mention one of Kyoya's best friends from elementary was engaged by age five- Yoshio could recall Kyoya telling him how disgusting it was that his friend had a girlfriend- kids were so cute with what they found gross.

"A wife?" Yuzuru raised an eyebrow, "now Yoshio, you know I hate to make an assumption, but are you sure he's of that persuasion?"

"What do you mean?" Yoshio frowned, looking at his friend in confusion, he didn't quite understand what Yuzuru was getting at.

"I thought he was, you know…" he held up his hand, his wrist going limp, Yoshio just stared at him blankly, what on earth..? Yuzuru continued, "you know... playing for the other team? A friend of Dorothy?"

"Who's Dorothy?"

Souh sighed, "gay, Yoshio, your son is gay."

"Gay? As in homosexual?" Yoshio didn't think he'd ever met any of them, he supposed that it would explain the strange difference between Kyoya and the other children. It was a strange thing to think about, that his child was so different from himself. "I suppose I'll have to find him a husband then," it wasn't like Yoshio had any issues with it, he was just a little surprised.

"Well I'm not certain," Yuzuru clarified, ever the man to jump to conclusions, "I just, the way he looks at Tamaki…" he trailed off, clearly recalling something. Yoshio thought about that, Kyoya had risked doing something that he would disapprove of- and Kyoya certainly wasn't like Akito… was it because of the Souh child? As much as he allied himself with Yuzuru, Yoshio didn't trust that Tamaki boy as far as he could throw him- and Yoshio couldn't throw for shit. "Oh!" Yuzuru snapped him out of his thoughts with that exclamation, "Yoshio! I've just had the most wonderous idea!"

Huh? Oh. Oh no. "Absolutely not." Yoshio knew exactly what Yuzuru was thinking and he had to put his foot down, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Why not? Tamaki's bi."

"You've seen the kind of club your son thinks is acceptable. No offence Yuzuru but your son is definitely a bad influence on Kyoya. I cannot imagine him being loyal, or respectful for that matter."

Yuzuru seemed offended at that, "Yoshio! My boy hasn't done anything wrong! There's nothing wrong with a little harmless conversation, it's like social networking but for kiddies!"

"The children are more than capable of networking like normal people, your son has been seducing every girl in that school, I'm not letting him turn his romancer eyes towards my youngest." He turned away from Yuzuru, sighing quite heavily.

"Tamaki isn't like that!" Yuzuru seemed determined to defend the boy, Yoshio could respect that he supposed, "if you dislike my son so much, why did you tell Kyoya to befriend him?"

"Business relations." It was simple, wasn't it? It made sense for children of powerful businesses to befriend each other, it was more effective than charming the adults- though Yoshio supposed he'd call Yuzuru a friend at this point.

"And you think it'll make for good business relations to insult my heir like that?"

"I'm not insulting him, don't take everything so personally, Yuzuru. I was merely expressing my concern, I don't want Kyoya to get hurt, he's surprisingly fragile you know."

"Fragile..?"

"You should have seen him after his mother's funeral; crying, screaming, he bit me twice… then he refused to eat, he barely slept…" Yoshio frowned, the memories of his tiny son, Kyoya had only been seven at the time, but still… "he didn't understand the situation… he's always been fragile."

"Yoshio…" Yuzuru's tone had become soft, slow, Yoshio hadn't heard a tone like that in a long time. He realised that this was the first time he'd brought up his wife's death to anyone outside of the topmost members of the Black Onion squad. The self defense mechanisms kicked in and Yoshioed tenses up, shooting back a soul-shattering glare at poor Souh.

"Don't you dare patronise me, Souh."

Yuzuru made a sound not unlike a kicked hound, shrinking back into his seat and finishing his glass of wine. He put the glass down and sighed, muttering to himself, "still a sore subject, alright then…" he offered a hesitant smile, and Yoshio felt what must have been a pang of guilt, maybe, "do you feel better now, did that help?"

...it had actually, Yoshio realised he felt a lot more relaxed now… huh. He sighed, nodding, not wanting to speak. Yuzuru smiled, he was incredibly patient and Yoshio respected the hell out of that. "So, we've discussed your doubts about Tamaki, I don't really have any doubts about Kyoya other then the fact that he might murder everyone in their sleep- although that mostly due to the good ol' Ootori brand thousand yard glare- which is like a thousand yard stare but evil." He laughed at his joke, Yoshio hadn't been aware of this glare that apparently the entire family had- he wondered how many people they'd unintentionally terrified like that…

"But yeah! We've gone over the cons, how about the pros, because there is a lot."

"Hm," Yoshio nodded, agreeing, "business relations for one, but also they're already friends, it would be convenient."

"Very!" Yuzuru nodded along, smiling, "and I'm telling you, Yoshio, I'm telling you that Kyoya absolutely has a crush on my boy, it's the most adorable thing I swear. The way he looks at him? I don't think Tamaki's even noticed- you'll be doing Kyoya a favour."

Well he's right, Kyoya would never risk such good business relations for his own feelings, Yoshio could admit that it may have been his fault for drilling such importance of relations into the boy. "I suppose you're correct, it seems like a perfectly good option," Yuzuru seemed quite happy at that statement, but Yoshio was in no way finished, "however, I will be setting some adamantine ground rules and if not I then his brothers. Are we in agreement, Souh?"

Yuzuru was grinning now, "of course Ootori, my old friend. This is one of our best ideas yet," he held out a hand for Yoshio to shake, composing himself into a more professional state of posture, "is this a deal, Ootori? Am I making a deal with the devil here?"

Oh, oh Yoshio loved it when people referred to him as the devil, it made him feel so powerful, and like his own father. He often wondered if that was how his children thought about him. He took Yuzuru's hand shake, a smile playing on his own lips- of course he was still himself, so it was more of a sneer, but Yuzuru would understand. "Better the devil you know, Souh."

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 2, Ch. 1

PART 2: THE YEAR OF MISCHIEF AND SNEAKING AROUND Chapter 1 - Summer at the Burrow

Nova

I have to admit that my Summer before going to the Burrow wasn't that bad at all. I managed to convince my mum to not visit our relatives in America, which already made things 10 times better. What made my Summer even better was the fact that a few days after we came and stayed at my aunt's in Scotland, one of her Abraxans had a baby!

Not only did I witness it, about which I still don't know how I feel as there was a lot of blood, but I got to stay at my aunt's for a week more to take care of the little guy. I decided to call him Angel since his wings gave a light yellow hue. He was the sweetest thing and the day before I left he managed to fly off the ground for the first time, which of course made me very proud.

While at my aunt's I wrote to Charlie and sent him one of the pictures my aunt took of Angel and me. I told him that I was there when he was born and that I wished he could witness it as well. It wasn't even a few days when Pip flew back with his response. He said that he was so jealous and wished he could be there as well and couldn't wait for me to come to the Burrow to hear all about it.

—

Charlie wasn't in the best of moods lately. As he brought home such good grades his mum found him very responsible and gave him the babysitting duty for his younger brother Ron and his sister Ginny. The only good thing was that Bill got an even worse job as he had to look over Fred and George and make sure the house is not on fire as their parents made a quick visit to one of their friends.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for both of them as I knew that their Summer was nothing like they hoped for on the train back from Hogwarts. Nonetheless, I couldn't wait to spend the last month of my Summer at the Burrow. I would plan tricks with Fred and George, tell bedtime stories to Ginny and play Wizard Chess with Ron if it meant spending some quality time with Charlie and update the list we've made in our First Year about which creatures were in the Reserve at Hogwarts, for which we were not supposed to know until our Third Year.

My dad felt so bad that he would only be able to see me for a few weeks that he bought me a brand new book on creatures that featured some that were recently discovered, along with some never before published notes of Magizoologist Newt Scamander. I shrieked as he told me all about what the book has to offer and decided not to tell Charlie about it as I knew I would finish reading it before I get to the Burrow and could lend it to him. And besides, I didn't want to make his Summer even worse.

A few days before my mum was supposed to accompany me to the Burrow, I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous as I was meeting Charlie's entire family. I only knew his brother Bill that I've met at Hogwarts and their mum, who picked them up when we came back from school.

—

I found my mum in the kitchen the morning of my departure. I stood in the doorway, rubbing my eyes as the sunlight from the kitchen window hit my eyes a little too bright for my taste. She was pacing back and forth and murmuring something to herself.

“Morning, mum.” I yawned.

She was still pacing, stopping for a second, turned to the counter where she had some sort of a list and wrote something down.

“Mum?” My voice louder now.

“Oh, Nova, darling. Good morning.” She beamed at me. “How did you sleep?” She looked down at the list and started scribbling something again.

“Good, a bit nervous.” I admitted.

For a second I thought she didn't hear me as there was no response, her quill still on the paper.

“Why are you nervous, sweetheart?” She finally put the quill down and came to me, looking concerned.

“Well, I will be spending a month with the Weasleys, what if they don't like me? What if Mrs. Weasley sends me back?” I frowned.

My mum let out a chuckle. “Sends you back? Oh, sweetheart, I'll be lucky if I ever get you back!” She brushed my hair with her fingers.

“You're one of her son's best friend and you helped him study, I bet she can't wait for you to stay with them as much as Charlie.” That put me in a better mood.

I remembered the moment when Bill told his mum that I helped Charlie achieve such good grades and she thanked me and gave me the biggest hug, one that I only received from my mum on similar occasions.

“Are you all ready and packed?” She interrupted my train of thoughts.

“Yes!” I nodded.

“Got your robes, your wand, your hat, your tie?” She was reading from her list and I nodded again.

“Now, remember I will meet you in Diagon Alley to go shop for your Second Year books. Molly and I agreed that it would be easier if you just go to Diagon Alley with them and I'll meet you there.” She smiled at me.

—

Speaking of Diagon Alley, I did convince my mum to go once at the beginning of Summer so that we could visit Tulip mum's shop. I couldn't convince her to buy all my books in advance though as the list for all the books we would need in our Second Year hasn't arrived yet back then.

Tulip's mum has the most beautiful little coffee shop. It was so cozy and everything looked so homey. My mum met Tulip that day and while I was sitting next to them, sipping on my tea I couldn't guess which of them was more excited to meet the other.

Besides seeing Tulip in July, I didn't get the chance to see either Tonks or Penny. I missed them both so much and I couldn't wait to find a compartment with them on Hogwarts Express on 1st September.

I did, however, correspond with them regularly. It made Pip happy as he was starting to get bored as I attempted to draw him from every possible angle and he just couldn't wait to get away from me. I also assumed that he missed my friends so I tried to use our family owl as little as possible to give him the possibility to visit all the friends he made. Lucky bloke!

Penny, so far, had nothing but an amazing Summer. Her beach vacation went great and she got tanned and her hair was now even more blonde than before because of the Sun. Apparently, she all sent us the same letter as I received a letter from Charlie the very next day as he questioned and tried to understand why going to the beach and do Muggle activities was better than being covered in mud while playing Quidditch.

Tonks' letters on the other hand were nothing but amusing. In a couple of them, she described all the pranks she pulled on her parents. In a few, she was groaning and complaining how their family cat will be the death of her and just last week she sent me a picture of her scratched arm and written next to it was Artwork by Merlin. I chuckled at the sweet name the cat had compared to his behavior.

—

“Don't forget Pip and your drawing books and the self-doodler Charlie gave you and the necklace, HE also gave you.” I rolled my eyes as she winked at me.

I've heard being a teenager wasn't a piece of cake but I thought it was like that because of our stubborn hormones, not parents being more interested in your love life than yourself. She has been going at it every time Mrs. Weasley and her corresponded and I've learned that if I just stay quiet as she gives her remarks, sooner or later she will give up. I did, however, make her mad when I tried to intercept one of the letters Mrs. Weasley sent her as I was sure they were already planning our wedding.

My mum enchanted all my belongings to fit in a small rucksack which I put over my shoulder. I held Pip's cage in one hand, Floo Power in the other as I stepped in our fireplace and was ready to appear in front of the Weasleys.

“THE BURROW!” I said clearly and disappeared in green smoke.

I coughed as I got ashes in my throat, stepping forward into Weasley's living room and putting Pip's cage down.

It was just like Charlie described to me in one of his letters, except I didn't feel it was too small or cramped. It was nice and homey and it smelled like Mrs. Weasley was baking cookies.

There were blankets folded on the sofa and a self-knitting jumper on the armchair. I looked around and it was not at all as I expected it to be. I thought that mum told Mrs. Weasley I was coming and thought someone was going to wait for me. If I'm honest, I was hoping Charlie would be there to greet me.

“Who are you?” I heard a rather grumpy voice. I turned my head and saw a boy with glasses and very curly red hair stand with crossed arms, inspecting me. I smiled.

“I reckon you're Percy.” I put my bag down and stepped closer, extending my arm. He looked at it in suspicion and rolled his eyes. “You're Charlie's friend, aren't you?” He shook my hand. I think he was not happy to see me.

“You can leave your things next to the sofa.” He showed with his hand. “I'm pretty sure mum said you'll be staying in Ginny's room or something.” He was just as strange as Charlie described him.

Before I could say another word to him I heard someone walk down the stairs. It was a little boy that could only be Ron. His hair reminded me that of Charlie's when he just woke up and came down for breakfast in the Great Hall. As he caught on to what was going on, his eyes widened and he gasped.

“Blimey! You're Nova!” He came closer, being rather bad at hiding his excitement. I offered him a hand just like I did with Percy. Ron shook it immediately.

“Your hair really is blue!” He couldn't stop staring at it. I giggled. I already felt much better as Ron definitely gave out more of a friendly vibe than Percy and was actually excited to see me.

“Dad's at work, mum's upstairs with Ginny. I reckon Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie are outside.” He smiled and pointed at the door behind me.

I didn't even have time to turn around when I heard my name.

“Nova! You're here.” Charlie ran to me and hugged me. “And right in time for Quidditch too!” He couldn't hide the excitement.

I saw Bill standing in the doorway, his hands crossed on his chest, smiling.

“Welcome back, Nova. I'll get mum. I'm assuming she doesn't know you're here yet.” He squeezed me into a hug and ran upstairs.

“Nova, these are Fred and George.” Charlie pushed the twins toward me.

“Hi, Nova.” One of them waved.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Said the other one. “Charlie talked about you all Summer.” He added.

“Ouch!” Was the next thing that came from his mouth as Charlie gently punched him in his arm.

“Oh, Nova, dear! You've arrived.” Mrs. Weasley came downstairs with the biggest grin on her face. She opened her arms even before she reached me and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Weasley, thank you for having me.”

“It's Molly, dear. No daughter of Olivia's will call ME Mrs. Weasley.” She swung her hand and smiled.

“Where's your mum?” She put her hands on her hips and looked around.

That was a good question as she should've been here by now.

As if Molly's question made her appear, Weasley's fireplace burst into green flames and there was my mum.

“Oh, Molly it's so nice to see you. Nova, you forgot the jumper Molly gave you for Christmas.” She hugged Mrs. Weasley and waved with the jumper. I felt blood rush into my cheeks.

After they stopped chatting and my mum kindly refused lunch for the third time as she had to go to work, she came to me, gave me a tight hug, and whispered in my ear that I should behave and be nice to the Weasleys. She kissed my forehead and before I knew it, disappeared in green flames.

Charlie wanted to take me to play Quidditch with them immediately but Mrs. Weasley stopped him saying that Bill and he should show me around the house, make me feel at home, and take Pip and my bag up into Ginny's room.

Ginny's room wasn't really Ginny's as I recognized it as Charlie's immediately. Posters of Dragons and other creatures were everywhere and there was even one of a Quidditch team.

“I sleep in Bill's room ever since Ginny is old enough to sleep in a bed.” He said, scratching the back of his head, his cheeks pink.

“I love it!” I exclaimed as it looked almost the same as my room just a little messier and less blue.

I then got to see Fred and George's room and Ron and Percy's room. Bill's room was a bit bigger than the rest, of which Charlie was quite proud. I saw that Charlie was already making it half his own as there were Dragon posters on the walls above his bed.

Ron told me all about the family Ghoul and how I shouldn't be afraid if I hear someone sing and smash things in the middle of the night. He also showed me his Wizard's Chessboard that he proudly inherited from his grandfather and asked with his adorable big eyes if I would play a game with him after dinner.

Fred and George, of course, showed me their prized possession of fireworks, Dungbombs, and a small machine that I had no idea what it was for until I placed my hand on it and it shook me, making me jump backward. I bet Tonks and Tulip would be best friends with the twins.

After lunch, Charlie's wish of playing Quidditch with me finally came true. I got Percy's broom as according to him he didn't want to play with us anyway, as he handed it to me and went upstairs to his room.

I had so much fun playing Quidditch with the boys. It was Fred and George against Charlie and me and Bill was our referee. I knew Charlie was good at flying but as he caught the Snitch within the first five minutes of our first game did I realize just what a natural he was.

We played until Mrs. Weasley called us in for dinner. When we came inside, I saw a man already sitting at the table and I assumed that had to be Charlie's dad.

“Arthur this is Nova, Charlie's friend.” Molly nudged Mr. Weasley as we sat down at the table.

“Ah, right. You arrived today!” He remembered. “How were your travels?” He asked as he put some peas on his plate.

“Uh, fine sir. I came here on Floo Powder.” Mr. Weasley chuckled.

“Oh, but of course, silly me for asking. And please, it's Arthur and not sir.” Charlie and Bill chuckled this time, me not even realizing that I called him sir.

I was an only child and having so many people converse and pass the plates with food here and there was so fun to watch. Bill and Charlie almost fought for the last piece of pie, Percy left the table earlier as he said we were too loud and Ginny couldn't stop giggling when I put a pea in my nose and crossed my eyes. I think she would find Tonks' nose and hair changing even funnier.

After dinner, I took Charlie to what was now mine and Ginny's room and finally showed him the book my dad bought me. I told him all about it as he grabbed my hand and brought me back downstairs. We sat on the sofa as he turned the pages slowly, with sparkles in his eyes.

Every day after that was almost the same. Percy was annoyed by us. The twins pulled a prank here and there, making either Bill or Charlie chase after them. I helped them degnoming the garden and Bill later called us back outside to give us a gnome which Charlie tried desperately to befriend, despite the obvious refusal from the other party.

We played Quidditch almost every day and now decided to switch teams every other game as Charlie and I won so much that Fred and George thought it wasn't fair to them as they thought I wasn't as good as I appeared to be. The thing is, neither did I. My parents didn't let me have a broom so the first time I flew was in our Flying Class and even though I managed to call my broom on my first try I didn't think of myself as a good flyer, let alone a good Quidditch player.

In the evenings, when Charlie and I weren't reading each other's books, I was helping Molly in the kitchen as she was telling me stories of her Hogwarts days with my mum.

Ron beat me in every single chess game but he still thought there was space for improvement and even gave me a compliment saying I was getting better.

The twins kept asking how Hogwarts was and that they couldn't wait to meet Tulip and Tonks when I told them that I have friends that love pranks just as much as they do.

Every night when Ginny had to go to bed, I took her upstairs and read her stories from her The Tales of Beedle the Bard book, and even though I've read some of them more than once she didn't mind, as long as I read to her.

—

Most nights, when we were already supposed to be sleeping, Charlie and I snuck out of our rooms and sat on the bench in front of their house or we took one of the blankets from the sofa and placed it on the ground in the garden. We loved looking at constellations and shooting stars as we talked about our expectations of our Second Year, wondering how Tulip, Tonks, and Penny are doing, and couldn't help but admit that we couldn't wait for our Third Year when we would finally start Care of Magical Creatures.

Of course, we couldn't hide our excitement as we remembered that this year Hagrid was going to take us into the Forbidden Forest and Charlie couldn't help but wonder if he would go deep enough into the Forest could he find a Dragon. I chuckled at the idea, even though I couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

One night Bill heard us talking outside as he went down to get a glass of water. Instead of scolding us and telling Molly, he laid down next to us and reminisced at the time he was our age. He made me and Charlie laugh so much as he pretended he was 100 years old and started all his stories from his First and Second Year with 'when I was your age'.

Bill also loved watching me draw and gave me pointers where he thought I could do better, it was like having an art teacher that was wiser but without an ounce of talent for drawing.

I don't even know how else to describe the month I spent with the Weasleys. It seemed that my life kept getting better and better and I couldn't wait for what was in store for me and my friends in our Second Year. Charlie and I made a dare that Tonks will lose it again during the final exams, that Penny will scold us all the time, and that Bill will sooner or later find out that we have been sneaking into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid.

I loved the Weasleys so much and if Pip wouldn't bring me a letter from my parents a couple of times per week I would have forgotten that I wasn't a Weasley. Well, that and the fact that I had blue and not red hair.

It was the best Summer and even better as I imagined it before coming to the Burrow. I had so much fun with Charlie no matter what we were doing and every time Bill joined us it was nice as I got to bond with him as well. Every night when I finally went to sleep, I couldn't help but think just how lucky I was to have met Charlie that day in the Courtyard.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Moms Made Fullmetal 2020 Day 2

Word Count: 3101 Author: Katie/Ally; RealityBreakGirl Rating: G Characters: Genevieve Armstrong (Mrs. Armstrong). Philip Armstrong, Olivier Armstrong, Amue Armstrong, Strongine Armstrong, Catherine Armstrong Prompt: Growth or School or First Steps Summary: Being a mother of five, especially of children so varied, is not an easy thing. Harder still is watching them grow, watching them learn, and watching them take their first steps along the journey of life.

Growth/School/First Steps

Being a mother of five was not an easy job, no matter your social status. That was what Genevieve Marie Tallmound Armstrong was sure of. Oh, certainly, she had grown up in the lap of luxury, and her children had too, and while that made certain aspects easier, it was still no easy job. Children would still run you through every emotion that existed, challenge you, and leave you feeling bittersweet as you watched all of the firsts they had, especially those first steps into adulthood.

And it was especially when you married into a family as boisterous as the Armstrong family.

Genevieve was not a stupid woman by any means. While the Tallmounds had their eccentricities, everyone knew that Armstrongs had more. They were a powerful and well-respected old family, with ties that dated back to Amestris’s formation. They had always come through in a crisis or when there was need. No one could deny this. And the Armstrongs carried on their tradition proudly. It was what gave them a pass in a lot of the higher societal circles, honestly. And it was something that Genevieve respected.

Oh, certainly a lot of the newer high society families liked to twitter behind their fans and their hands, and mumble behind their glasses and mustaches about the Armstrongs and how unusual they were, but what did they truly understand? They didn’t understand the proud and noble history behind the old families. They didn’t understand how, yes, they were eccentric, but it was borne of centuries of service to the country and instilling the stories and their morals into their children, preparing them for the day that they would be in service to Amestris. No, the new families did not understand this, but the old ones did.

Genevieve Tallmound was from one of the old families herself, and she understood it well. She saw the way that the new families talked, heard what they said when they thought no one was listening, and understood the way they viewed society—and the way they viewed the ones that didn’t fit in with their view of what it should be, be it in actions, expectations, or looks. And then she discarded it for what she felt to be more true and honorable.

(and, perhaps, had used her height and her scowl to her advantage from time to time. She knew what they thought of her and her stature)

Perhaps that was why Philp Gargantos Armstrong had taken notice of her. She understood. They had, of course, taken the proper steps to courting and waited the appropriate amount of time, but they had been in love after the first few months of their courtship.

So, she supposed it really shouldn’t be a surprise that they had ended up with five children. Although Catherine was a bit of surprise.

But what a pleasure it had been over the years watching them grow, watching them learn, and helping send them off on their first steps into the world. It wasn’t easy, and it often made her heart hurt, but it was an honor. Holding each of them for the first time, their first steps, their first words, their first training sessions, the first time they were on horseback, the first time that they won a fight—she was always so proud of her children. But some moments stuck out more to a mother then others. Some moments felt more defining, as if they were marking the beginnings of her children moving on from needing her, to being independent.

She could still remember each of their first days of school clearly. It was their first steps beyond the Armstrong estate by themselves. It was the first time they would be without her or Philip for an extended period of time. She had always done her best to be reassuring. She had made sure that they were dressed properly in their uniforms, each one of them, that they were prepared, that they knew that they could face and handle this. And they had, even if each on had handled it a bit differently.

Olivier had been nervous, and hadn’t wanted to go, trying to insist that she needed to stay home and help her mother with Amue and Strongine and new baby Alex.

“Mama, you need me. I’m supposed to help. It’s my duty as the eldest.” Genevieve could still hear the fear but also the sincerity behind those words.

She had knelt down and kissed her daughter on the head. “Olivier, you are a wonderful help to me. But our duties do change over time. Right now your duty is to go to school and learn all you can so that you can help out country. The maids will help me at home.” Olivier had still looked unconvinced, and so Genevieve had continued. “You want to make sure the Armstrong family name carries on strong and proud, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama! I do!”

“The hold your head up high, go in there, and learn all you can. And bring it back to help teach your sisters and brother. If you do that, you’ll help them learn more and more as they get older.”

Olivier’s eyes had shown with determination at those words, at this new mission and responsibility, and she had held her head high and marched into the school like she owned it on her first day. She had come home that afternoon chattering and full of information to share with her siblings. And she had continued that, her duty-bound daughter, until she left the estate all together.

Amue was the next to go, and, sensitive soul that she was, she had been nervous. She had already known that she didn’t look like the other girls—she didn’t even look like her oldest sister!—but Genevieve had done all that she could to try to encourage sweet Amue to be proud of herself.

“Do I have to go?” she had said tearfully as she and Olivier stood, waiting to go in.

“Yes,” Genevieve had replied. “You’ll like school, Amue. There’s so much to learn in there.”

“Can’t I just learn from the library at home?”

“No, darling, you must go to school.”

Olivier had reached down then, and grabbed Amue’s hand, holding it protectively, even though her younger sister was already as tall as she was.

“I’ll take care of you, Amue,” Olivier had said. “I’ll protect you, and I’ll show you all of the best places.”

That had seemed to do the trick and, even though she had clearly been nervous, Amue had trusted her big sister to take care of her. And if Genevieve and Philip had been called into a few meetings with the principal about fights Olivier had gotten into after that, well, so be it. Amue had clearly been starting to enjoy school, and Olivier was protecting the family.  Neither Genevieve nor Philip had seen any dishonor in that.

Strongine, had been the third to go to school, and she had been ready ever since she had heard Olivier’s stories. She had heard all about it from her two older sisters, and she was ready to meet people and talk and play. She was as social thing, always had been, and Genevieve had been certain that this would be good for Strongine, even if her own heart twisted a bit at the thought of her then-last daughter starting to become even more independent.

“Remember your strength,” Genevieve had reminded her.

“Yes, Mama.” It had been impatiently said as Strongine looked at the other children going in.

“And remember your manners.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Olivier’s hand had snaked down then and had taken Strongine’s. “I’ll help her,” she had said. “I’ll help her understand how school works. Amue and I both will.”

And that had been that. Her three children had gone into the building with Strongine practically bounding in, and Olivier reminding her how to behave. Strongine had seemed to adapt to school well, as Olivier had got in fewer fights that year.

By the time Alex’s first day had rolled around, the girls had all been clearly comfortable at school. Alex had faced his first day with enthusiasm, eager to learn, although a bit nervous as well.

“You’ll do well,” Genevieve had said to him. “You’re a good boy, very studious.”

“I’ll do my best, Mama. I’ll make the Armstrong family name proud!”

“I’m sure you will. And your sisters will be there to help you.”

“Of course we will!” “We’ll show you all of the best places!” Amue and Strongine had been doting on their brother’s enthusiasm.

Olivier had not been as enthused. “I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble,” was all she had said to her mother, although Genevieve could read the truth of the promise in her eyes, beyond the attitude that she held.

Alex had come home that day happy and excited, with Amuse and Strongine doting over him while Olivier nursed bruised knuckles. Somehow, Genevieve had not been the least bit surprised at any of this.

By the time Catherine, her surprise baby, had come along, Olivier had been at the Military Academy, Amue and Strongine in the upper grades focusing on their studies, and Alex beginning to specialize in his.

Catherine had been shy, clinging to her mother as they stood near the walk to the school, nervous and afraid. Alex had held his hand out to her.

“It’s alright,” he had said. “There’s lots of fun stuff and fun people inside, you’ll make friends. And I’ll show you all the best places.”

“You can trust Alex,” Genevieve had said, proud of her son for this. “He and your sisters will look out for you.”

And shy, trusting Catherine had gone, only to come home with shy smiles about her day. Alex had come home with dirt smudged in his collar. Genevieve had thought that Olivier, had she been around, might have been proud of him for that, in her own way.

Those were good memories, of their first steps into a bigger but still very much protected world. Genevieve had worried over them then, but she had a measure of control. They were still her children, under her and Philip’s care, and she was still able to stand up for them and take up for them. It was hard watching them grow and knowing that her control over their lives, her ability to protect them, was waning with each year.

Harder still were their first steps out into the world on their own.

Olivier’s first steps into the adult world were much different then the first ones she took into her school. She was not nervous at all, but determined, fully committing to the path of the military. But it was not the happy day that was expected and there was no coming home to tell her mother how her time was going. Her send off to adulthood started with a relationship breaking fight with her father, and to an extent, her whole family, over who would get to carry the family sword.

“Your brother will carry it when he is of age,” Philip had said. “It’s tradition for the heir to carry it.”

“But I am the eldest, Father,” Olivier had responded. “It is mine by birthright.”

“No, it is the heir’s by right of succession,” Philip had insisted. “And he will carry it.”

Olivier had not taken that well, and finally exploded with years of pent up frustration. “Alex has already taken away heirship from me, by the simple reasoning of being male! And now you will give him my sword—the sword I have worked all my life to be worthy to hold! Alex doesn’t even know how to use it properly!”

“He can be taught—”

“I’m ready now!”

“It is not yours to carry.”

In the end, Olivier had ended up leaving with the sword in hand, but it would be many, many years before she would speak to her father or communicate well with the rest of her family. It had broken Genevieve’s heart, and it was a wound that was still healing. The years of no contact, of not knowing if she had been alright, or if she had been injured until after the fact, of only hearing of her though rumor and reports, it had been hard on Genevieve’s soul. She remained steadfastly proud of her daughter, though, and all that she had accomplished, on her own, and for the family honor.

Amue’s send off into the world had been much easier, although with Olivier missing and not even a letter from her, it had been a little bittersweet. Amue was going to go to school for diplomacy, and her education was going to start with a tour of different nearby countries, or as close as she could get.

“Be safe,” Genevieve had told her.

“I will, Mother. I’ve been well trained.”

Genevieve had still worried about Amue, but she was traveling with a good family friend who worked in diplomacy and would show her the ins and outs. After that year of travel was over, Amue had gone to the university to study the cultures around them, although she had returned for a brief time home, bringing gifts and talking about the places she had visited. She had many good conversations with her father after that on the state of political affairs, and Genevieve had been proud to hear her daughter’s desire to help their country.

Strongine had been a true middle child, with no clear path in what she wanted to do. She had traveled around a bit, stayed home a bit, and tried various things. But eventually she did settle on what she wanted to do, and started right in on it, with little discussion, but full of enthusiasm.

Strongine had a drive to help those in need. On top of that, she was personable, fun, and could capture attention easily. She had found an organization that went into poor areas and helped people learn new skills and had needed help with both the application of it and gaining support. She had come home bubbling over with excitement about this and had resolved immediately to join. She had known that she could do both of those things, and she had been eager to help out. It had only been a couple of weeks before she had been taking her first steps into the adult world.

“You have all you’ll need?” Genevieve had asked her.

“Yes, Mother,” Strongine had replied, amused. “I don’t need much—the point is to help others, not carry my bedroom with me.”

“A mother is allowed to worry. Write to us.”

“I will.”

And just like that, in a whirlwind, she had been off, ready to help whoever she could in this world. They had heard from her often, and soon the organization she had been working for was coming into notice more and more. Genevieve could not have been prouder of her middle daughter.

Alex’s first steps into the world had been much more grandiose, at least to Philip. Amue and Strongine had come back to see him off the Academy, and Catherine was there of course. Genevieve had read the disappointment in her son’s eyes that Olivier wasn’t there, that she hadn’t even sent a letter, but it was what it was. Philip had boasted and bragged about how proud he was of Alex. Genevieve’s words were more of a mother’s worries.

“Be safe,” she had said.

“I will, mother.”

“Guard yourself.”

“I will, mother.”

“Remember the honor you bear.”

“Always, mother.”

And like that, he had headed off. Oh, but she had wished later that her son’s first steps into adulthood wouldn’t lead to such tragedy, but she couldn’t have predicted the future. All she could do was be there for him as much as possible. She had been proud at his certification as a State Alchemist and had been aghast when he was sent home and he spoke of what he had seen there. She had supported him as best she could, and she was proud of him even if he wasn’t of himself.

Catherine had yet to take her first full steps into the adult world, but she was toeing the line with a promising musical career. Several schools and groups were looking at her already, and Genevieve was sure that it wouldn’t be long until she was saying goodbye to her youngest as she watched her take her first steps into her own future. It would be difficult to send off her youngest into adulthood, but wasn’t that what motherhood was about? Helping your children grow and become good people, good adults, that you could be proud of?

Voices caught her ear as she drew closer to the dining room, drawing her out of her musings, and she couldn’t help my smile at them all. She recognized each voice, echoes of their childhood in them in ways that only a mother could hear.

“Alex would you stop crying!” Olivier.

“I’m sorry, Sister, I’m just so overjoyed that we’re all here!” Alex.

“If he doesn’t stop crying, and dad starts crying, do you think we’ll need to build a canoe to keep us from drowning?” Strongine.

“You know, they have a saying about this sort of thing down in Aerugo.” Amue.

“Here you go, Alex. Take this tablecloth for a hankie.” Catherine.

“Very good thinking, Catherine.” Philip.

Genevieve couldn’t suppress the smile that graced her lips as she walked towards the dining room, nor did she want to. For the first time in around twenty years, all of her children were under one roof, and getting along relatively well. She had watched them grow from small children taking their first steps towards a guided independence, to men and women taking their first steps into true independence. It had been full of ups and downs and struggles, but at this moment she wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in Xing. She had her children and her husband all together. Perhaps now there would be some new growth and new first steps for them all—this time, together.

“I see you are all as boisterous as ever.”

“Ah, Genevieve, my dear! I’m glad you’re here now!”

“Yes. And I’m pleased to see all of you here, as well.”

Yes, her children may have grown up, and may have taken their steps into adulthood, but they were still her little ones, and her heart swelled with pride and love at them.

This would be another cherished memory.

[evelyn-foresis]

Second edition redraw of Artemis in fairy robes, with her familiar Aries. Let it be known, red is my least favourite colour.

Tale 11: Artemis Craweleoth & The Griminthrope (chapter 1 - Child of Autumn 1/5) part 3. Stories of Fey

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Artemis was the third Daughter of King Mage Morgan Cynedom, and his wife, magician Emilia Loket.  As prophesized, Artemis was born on the autumnal equinox, in the third quadrant of the table of fours, red; and was thus the child of fall. Each of the four siblings belonged to one quadrant; which had a one season, element, colour, direction, metal, and two to three beast kingdoms of fey. Each of Morgan’s children were to be named by a beat king whose fey kingdom was in the child’s quadrant. For Artemis, this meant one of the two Beast Kings of the red quadrant, had the privilege of naming her. The Beast King’s, being of fey, found names important, and considered Morgan their brother; It was a high honor the ten fey kings quarreled about. In the end, The Raven King had won the bid of bestowing a name on Artemis, and houseing her in the raven magic house of Craweleoth, or Ravensong.

Magic House aside, Artemis was like a bird in many ways. Loud and feisty, a trickster, hung around in trees; and had a lovely singing voice she paired with the oddest dances. Her Fairy robes were red and ebony like fall, and collared with black feathers. A sheer skirt clipped about her waist was red, and embroidered in the pattern of a phoenix’s tail. Artemis had tall boots and gloves with coins sewed along them, to match her collar and belt. She could blend into a maple orchard in October. These fairy robes were a gift from the Fairy King; who makes them to protect beloved mages safe from spell or sword. Keeping these human guardians of magic and fey, clean and safe. To give each of Morgan’s children lovely magic clothes to match their naming, gave her great joy. On most days, she avoided her fairy robes, and Artemis wore turtle neck sweaters, leggings, boots, and denim jumper or overalls on top.

Before the end of magic school, there was no spell Artemis couldn’t cast with music, or balled she could not perform. The trick was finding her in the thick of her father’s magic forest. When it came to hiding in the trees, she blended in unlike her siblings; Her hair was bronze like her fathers, and was medium length and wavy, tied in a knot. She moved about so much; Emilia didn’t want her hair catching on things. She knew a thing or two about long hair inconvenience. To match the wood of the trees, Artemis also had her mother’s ebony eyes. Even after she had gone dark in school, the magic moving through her didn’t changed her colours like other magic users. Her hair simply went a little redder. As a rebellious untamable problem, Artemis was short, freckled, sturdy, and fearless; and as ethereal as her siblings, but in an eerie sort of way, instead a radiant sort.

As a gifted mage, more attached to magic then reality, she picked up skills quickly. One of Artemis’s first spells was summoning her familiar Aries, a black raven she adorned with beading; and whom which Artemis flew on occasion.  She learned this from her father, who whose familiar Icarus, was a golden eagle he liked to ride as well. Sometimes they would play sky tag, infuriating Emilia; It terrified Artemis’s mother. As far as they were concerned, who needs, trains, bikes or vehicles, when you have a trusty wingman. Artemis always had the intent of staying where she was born, on Tiberius Gate, with her father and family forever. She loved specking with the fey children of the raven and tree kingdoms; serenading the gate’s vast forest, with ballads written by mages long ago. Morgan and his daughter would sing to the gate together; He had taught Artemis more songs from his library of mages, then any of the charmers she would meet in magic school. When she left the gate for school, or ran errands, Artemis would sing to the fey in town; as the magic forest of her father’s gate extended down into the small town of Pepperidge. Even when her siblings grew up and left, Artemis was reliably there to charm them.

Artemis went through magic school, made no friends, and preferred the company of her familiar and family. Not to different form her brother and sisters; which was something their parents didn’t prepare for, though should have expected. They were a loving magic family every day, when personalities didn’t flare up. The problem with Morgan and Emilia’s overly enchanted brood, was they were neglecting other aspects of life, for magic. They only wanted to pry their children away from mythical symbiosis, to make them functional members of society. However, if their father and his friends weren’t evidence enough; Stopping this behavior in humans born with a greater affinity for magic, is fundamentally pointless. But at least everyone was happy. Including every fey. One big happy magic forest school village. With lots of blooming little magic hermits.

That said, perhaps someone might now prefer not to go looking for her at all; As a bird on a branch, seen only for a second, Artemis was better left to her own unorthodox ways. To anyone who knew Artemis, her presence was intrusive, unrelenting, and loud. In spite of her energetic antics, Artemis was still a good sister. For each prank Artemis pulled, she gave a hand when her family needed it. Artemis was very handy and clever; fixing plumbing and fur nature without duct tape, in new and exciting ways. Artemis stood a proud cheerer of her siblings, and magic home. She was not a paladin, but it is said that mage charmers are more powerful; A charmer can manipulate anything they want for miles round, without lifting a finger.

Artemis’s unsettling birdlike mannerisms, and personality, turned many people away before they had the chance to bully her. It followed her even after graduation. Her attraction to shinny things alone was good material for immature adolescents, or adults. But she was Teflon against any insult; Artemis’s secret was not caring. Aside from her wild spirit, Artemis passed through events in her life like a bird migrating on a mystical journey; undeterred from a desired destination. From up high, and far away, Artemis could see everything, everyone, and do as she please.  Artemis was light, untouchable, and lively; and she knew it.

After graduation, Artemis remained on Tiberius Gate, in Pepperidge, with her parents and community. Mockery would not pry her from her dream of quaint homey living. Even when Morgan and Emilia’s youngest, her little brother Patrick, moved out to be a paladin, Artemis still stayed. Her parents were happy to have her; at least one child to wake up too every day, when all others flew the coop. No longer a child, Artemis was still singing and flying around town, helping any fey or people who wanted it, for shinny coins. She made a meaningful living off small jobs. Artemis spent her time singing, beading, dancing, and showing around tourists. Artemis came home each night, after a day’s adventure, to help her parents make dinner and care for they fey on Tiberius Gate itself. She loved her simple life. A meaningful life.

One day, while Morgan was off at the academy substituting, he got an urgent call. But he wasn’t at home to answer. It was from a radio phone in the Westlands; Emilia answered it in the kitchen. She didn’t want to worry Morgan, so Emilia got Bandrel, their hearths fire wilding, to hold the call. He smiled, cooled down, crawled out of the tower’s oven furnace, which was his duty, and held the phone. Fairies never get to hold phones; he felt more special than normal.

“Bandie, would you take this? I don’t care if it gets bit cold in the tower from the fall air. It’s Patrick. Have a nice talk with him while I find Artemis. I don’t want to make my husband an anxious mess while he’s at work…” Emilia said casually to the small fairy boy. Bandril nodded excitedly and took the phone in his little hands.

“Hello, Tiberius Gate, Bandie speaking,” Bandrel said smiling. He turned to Emilia, and covered the talking piece. “I always wanted to say that!” he wiggled. Emilia smiled and left the main tower, to whistle into the forest. Not any whistle, as some whistles summoned fey; This was a sound to summon her daughter. Emilia made a perfectly medium range whistle, that tapered like a bird’s song, into the thick old magic growth. The tree’s whispered, as Emilia stared into the woods waiting for Artemis to whistle back. Artemis was in a tree right above her.

“What’s up mom.” Artemis said, hopping down and scaring Emilia. She jumped back, scared for her life. She hated when her family snuck up on her like that. Emilia could bend reality just by believing, but the magic here seemed to catch her off guard. She never got used to it; her children and husband were too stealthy.

“After all these years, you’d think I’d be used to it. Your twenty now. Am I getting old…” Emilia gasped. “Come inside, and sit by Bandrel’s warm fire with me; Your little brother called form Grand Snow. He wanted to speak with your father, but you’re the next best mage.” Emilia said rapping her arm around her daughter.

“Patrick only left six months ago…” Artemis said under her breath. “He didn’t even get an apprenticeship, yet got a post. Of course, it’s Patrick calling. Always Patrick!” She scoffed. Emilia elbowed Artemis in the side. A young lady should not throw her sibling under the bus. That is what older ladies do. Artemis had a little middle child syndrome. Emilia always wanted a boy, unlike their father Morgan, who was a grade-A girl dad. A father’s love evened things out, adding plausible deniability to parental favouratism. Children can smell inequality like sulfur. Every time mother mentioned Artemis’s little brother’s name, she winced.

Once inside, Emilia and Artemis headed to the kitchen. Artemis arranged the fire wood into a cradle inside the large hearth, for Bandrel to sleep in. Then Bandrel handed her the phone, and crawled back in the oven. Emilia set up some chairs and mugs of tea, for some cuddling by the warmth of Fairy fire. Emilia knew Artemis well enough to know providing some reassuring love would calm her down; Artemis needed to be calm to talk on a phone; and play nice to her little brother. Artemis plopped down in a chair, kicked back, and answered the phone. The long-distance charges must have been astounding.

“Hey Patrick, dad gone, mom miss you, me here. What’s up bro. What can I do you for?” Artemis said, sipping from her mug of tea. She spat up a little; it wasn’t steeped yet.

[ograndebatata]

My future Eleteo children

Okay... I’ve been meaning to make this post for some time now, but other things kept putting it off... but recent events have inspired me to finally put it together, so here it is.

These are my versions of the children Elena and Mateo end up having. Technically, they’re part of my Tales of the Ever Realm AU, but I started working on them before said AU was a ‘truly set thing’. I’m not sure how fair it is to count them as ‘future children’, but I still wanted to share them. 

To those interested in knowing more about them, please click below.

Candida Doroteia de Alva Flores (girl) -  The first born child, and the heir to the throne of Avalor, Candida takes very much after her father. Her long hair, facial features and complexion are more reminiscent of her mother (though she wears her hair tied in a braid rather than a ponytail), but her eyes and hair color are inherited from her father, and her general personality is also closer to him.

At first glance, she looks like a vain girl who takes great pride in her appearance, given the dresses, tiaras, hair ties and hair pins that she wears, but any long period of time spent with her leads people to see that she’s a quiet child who goes about her studies dilligently, and a bit of a lone wolf, a big reason for her apparent pride in her appearance is to hide her lack of self-confidence. She is open and easygoing with her parents and their closest friends and their children, but draws into her own shell with people outside that immediate circle. 

She’s shy and soft-spoken enough that some have suggested that she may not be ready to be the future queen, but both her parents insist that Candida will be the one making that decision if she wants to, and both believe she will be a good queen.

Since she was a child, Candida was compassionate to others and tries to do her best to help people if she sees them in trouble. And while she doesn’t make a show of it, she’s determined enough that if she runs into a problem she will keep trying to solve it until she exhausts every possible option.

She likes history and literature, and while she’s not as interested in magic as some of her siblings, she does like it to a degree, and is good at defensive spells. 

She also has a good singing voice, and likes to play more than one instrument, though she mostly sings to herself when she feels she needs to cheer herself up. 

She’s close to her parents, and also to her Aunt Isabel and to her Uncle Desmond. She’s also somewhat close to ‘Tia Val’ and ‘Tio Manuel’.

Alexandro Rui “Alex” de Alva Flores (boy) - The second born child, born a little over a year after Candida, and very much her opposite in many ways, being an impulsive sort who believes in following his instincts and thinks he can take everything that life throws at him.

He has his mother’s hair and eye color, and a skin tone similar to hers, but he wears his hair short. 

He loves sports (his favorites being fencing, olaball, and horse riding) and very much dislikes studying, to the point it can be a struggle to get him to attend his lessons, which is not to say that he is dumb, as he certainly is clever enough to devise ways to sneak pan dulce from trays or explain why he was late for his lessons. Compromises to get him to attend his lessons have to come about somewhat often, and a few times it’s even necessary for his parents to put their foot down, most often Elena. 

But despite how different he is from his older sister, they do get along well, and she’s the first he will turn to if he feels he can’t turn to his parents. And while he can be a bit conceited when he wins, as well as a sore loser if he loses, he’s overall a nice boy. And as much as Elena is the one who puts her foot down with him, he’s closer to her than to Mateo. 

He doesn’t very much like magic at all, typically finding it boring, although like all of Elena’s children, he had to do the ‘required basic training’ to control the magic he was born with.

Outside of blood relatives, the ones he’s closest to are ‘Tio Gabe’, ‘Tia Naomi’ and ‘Tio Marzel’.

Leonor Matide de Alva Flores (girl) - The third born child, and the oldest of a set of fraternal twins, both born a bit two years after Alex. She has her mother’s hair and skin tone, and green eyes like her late great-grandmother Luisa and her late first cousin once removed Esteban. She doesn’t wear her hair as long as her older sister or mother, but it still goes down to the small of her back when she wears it down, which she does most of the time. She most often wears a wizard robe similar to the one her father wore when he started out as Royal Wizard.

She’s one of the spitfires in the family, and while no one will say she’s a bad child, much less evil, she tends to get in trouble for three main reasons.

For one, her passion for magic matches her father’s, and she can’t wait to know all the spells there are to know, which can lead to her trying to cast a given spell before she’s ready for it. 

For another, she’s a very competitive child, who gets offended if anyone doubts her magical sklls, often going above and beyond the call of duty to prove them wrong, sometimes with less than stellar results.

For yet another, she has a very intense rivalry with her twin brother (who’s as interested in and as passionate about magic as her) always wanting to prove she is better than him.

All of these things already lead to some incidents, although both siblings learned to restrain themselves after one of their competitions almost had a very unfortunate outcome. 

That said, for all that she and her brother bicker and compete about magic, both are there for each other when it really matters, and woe be whoever derides or mocks one of them in the other’s presence. Also, for the surprise of many, she’s a very affectionate child,  and when someone she loves is sad, she always goes for hugs first before saying she’ll teach a lesson to whoever made them sad.

While Leonor excels at magic, she’s much poorer in just about every other field, and although her grades still aren’t ghastly per se, everyone thinks she could do much better at everything if she put in half the effort she puts into learning magic. Like Alex, she fares quite well at sports, and more than once tried to copy her father’s elaborate magical acrobatics (not always with the best results).

To the surprise of some, she is actually a very affectionate child, 

She idolizes her mother and father, and other than her twin brother, the sibling she is closest to is her big sister Candida.

Outside of her family, the one she is closest to is Fiero, to the point that out of she is one of only two of Elena’s children who calls him Tio Fiero. Not only is he funny (there is something weirdly hilarious about his near-constant seriousness), but he is very patient when teaching her and her brother magic, and has plenty of stories to tell them about their great-grandfather, which they both love to hear. 

She is also close to Olivia, although the now Royal Wizard has less time to teach her magic. She also likes spending time with Carla, and although the malvaga does not actually teach her magic, she will be open to helping her with magical practice on her free time.

Lucero Ignacio de Alva Flores (boy) - The fourth born child, and the youngest of the twins. Like his twin sister, he has his great-grandmother’s green eyes, and his mother’s hair color, although his skin tone is a few shades darker than hers. 

He also wears his hair rather long (about shoulder-length), as he thinks it ‘makes him look cooler’. He also tends to wear a wizard robe similar to the one his father did when he first started out as Royal Wizard. 

He is as much of a spitfire as his twin sister, and his love for magic matches hers, which is why he tends to get into trouble also (whether alongside his sister or separately from her). He is as competitive towards her as she is towards him, and also tends to take it personally if his magical skills are thrown into question. 

That said, he is as present for his sister if she needs him as she is if he needs her, and he will defend her from anyone who tries to hurt her in any way, just like she does him. 

He is somewhat less inventive with magic than his sister, but he is better at grasping the theory of it, and will often get the handle of a spell faster than she does. He also has more patience to sit through academics, and does better at school work than his sister. However, she has him beat in terms of acrobatics, and if they play olaball against one another he usually loses. 

Like his sister, Lucero is more affectionate than many expect from such a spitfire, to the point that he and his sister have no fights over who gets to comfort anyone they love who happens to be sad near them both at the same time: they always share the task. However, he ia bit shyer about ‘getting affection’.

Also like with his twin sister, his favorite person after his parents is Fiero (he is the other of Elena’s children who calls him Tio Fiero), and he will attach himself to the former malvago at any half-chance, for the same reasons his sister does, and generally has an opinion of him similar to hers: there’s something funny about his constant seriousness, and his stories about Alacazar are wonderful to hear, and he’s a great magic teacher.  

That said, he does think Olivia is much more fun when it comes to showing them the actual fun side of magic.

He also like spending time with Carla, whether it’s practicing magic with her help or listening to the stories of her adventures (although she always turns him down if she asks him to tell stories more related to her confrontations with Elena on the days they were ‘more at odds’).

Núria Jazmin de Alva Flores (girl) - The last born child of Elena and Mateo, born a bit over seven years after Leonor and Lucero. 

She has somewhat darker hair and complexion than either of her parents, and dark-brown eyes. Like her mother and her oldest sister, her hair falls down to below her waist when she wears it down, but out of the whole family, she is the one who tends to change up her hairstyle the most, even outside of formal occasions. 

Like other last-born children, she feels she is the family baby, although her siblings and especially parents try to not make her feel that she is. Sometimes, she worries that she doesn’t help her case by being so much of a mommy’s and daddy’s girl, but she secretly loves that they care when she feels down and loves their hugs when she is sad.

She is also the girliest one out of Elena’s daughters, at least when it comes to her attire, wanting to wear dresses and change up her hairstyle simply out of personal preference rather than to make herself feel confident.

She insists she doesn’t want to be babied just because she is the youngest one, and that she is just as capable as any of her older siblings. And to give her due credit, she can back up her words, as she performs very well in academics, is good at fencing and olaball, and also does well at magic. That said, she is secretly a bit afflicted by the fact she doesn’t ‘truly stand out’ in any field. Candida sings better than her, Alex is better at sports than her, and both Leonor and Lucero are better at magic than her. She may be above average in most things she does, but she does not excel at any specific one like any of her siblings. And that worries her sometimes, as she feels that if she isn’t ‘truly uniquely special’ at anything, she’s less than them.

Both Elena and Mateo reassure her that she is perfectly special and fine just as she is, and Núria knows they speak the truth. 

But all the same, deep down she wishes that someday she will find anything she can be the best at. 

She gets along well with all her siblings, but she does not have a ‘true favorite’ among them. Like all of Elena’s and Mateo’s children, she loves her mother and father. Outside of her blood family, the person she is closest to is Prisma.

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Hey I was just wondering on your interpretation of Jonerys in the books? Because according to the bad leaks we will get Jon killing Dany, but in the book version its pretty clear that these two will marry and I don't necessarily see how those two things jive with each other, unless we get a literal repeat of the Azor Ahai/Nissa Nissa bs with them🤷🏼‍♀️ Thoughts? Because I have given up hope for the show and need some reassurance on the books after reading all of them plus the history books,,

Look, anon. Even in the fucking show these two have been paralleled to death - in a way that inextricably links their lives together, as seen here and here and here. When you learn that when Ian McElhinney (Barristan Selmy) confronted D&D about how he thought it was too early to kill off his character, it made them want to kill him more, out of spite… it makes it pretty clear what D&D are doing.

In their effort to adhere to shock and subversion… they’ve left mounds of unused foreshadowing all over the place (I’m still working on a master post of unused foreshadowing and plot elements). As you might’ve guessed, Jonerys foreshadowing is among those casualties - such as Dany mentioning she may have to enter in a political marriage at the end of season 6 before setting sail for Westeros, or the four different instances that challenge Dany’s belief that she can’t have children, that her family hasn’t seen its end, and that Longclaw will go to Jon’s children after him. As of right now, none of the leaks indicate that any of this meant anything other than dialogue filler. If it was never intended to amount to anything, then the writers should not have included these lines at all, especially in a show that was cut down from ten episodes to seven. Way, way too much emphasis was put on challenging the notion Daenerys can’t have children. It’s what a good writer might call ‘trimming the fat’ from the story, otherwise, it does nothing but muddy up the story unnecessarily.

Jonerys aside, D&D have killed so much foreshadowing in the series just to make a shocking ending (which by the way, makes no sense at all). I was flabbergasted when I read this quote from 2013:

When I asked Benioff and Weiss if it was possible to infer any overall intentionality to the upcoming 10 episodes, they sneered. “Themes are for eighth-grade book reports,” Benioff told me.

Uh, what?

As you may have seen, I already recently covered why Jon shouldn’t care so much about the incest aspect - in the comments I received, there was a great point about how Jon has borderline romantic feelings toward his cousin Arya (who he believes is his half-sister), tending to think of her when he wonders what his love interest’s (Ygritte) body looks like under all those clothes. In the original outline for the series, Jon and Arya were supposed to end up together or at least be involved in a love triangle with Tyrion.

As you see, in the books, Daenerys has already been groomed for the reality of being wedded to her brother, so her nephew won’t be some grand depature from this. She’s a dragonrider, and if the shows are to be believed, Jon will be, too - and if the majority of fans are to be believed, then there might be something magical about Targaryen blood that makes them different or unique or magical, hence the incest.

When you look at just how finely crafted this book series by GRRM is… it makes it really hard to believe that he’d throw out all of his foreshadowing for shock value.

“It’s easy to do things that are shocking or unexpected, but they have to grow out of characters. They have to grow out of situations. Otherwise, it’s just being shocking for being shocking.”—George R. R. Martin

I think we can all agree that season eight of Game of Thrones is all about futility, shock, nihilism. So, check out this quote:

Q: Early on, one critic described the TV series as bleak and embodying a nihilistic worldview, another bemoaned its “lack of moral signposts.” Have you ever worried that there’s some validity to that criticism?

A: No. That particular criticism is completely invalid. Actually, I think it’s moronic. My worldview is anything but nihilistic.—George R. R. Martin

It was George who said we’d get a bittersweet ending, not D&D. It was George who said he wanted a LotR-style ending, not D&D.

While there are many conflicting quotes out there about GRRM’s ending vs. D&D’s… This recent article published right after episode 3 had some interesting lines:

“Of course you have an emotional reaction. I mean, would I prefer they do it exactly the way I did it? Sure. It can also be… traumatic. Because sometimes their creative vision and your creative vision don’t match, and you get the famous creative differences thing — that leads to a lot of conflict.”—George R. R. Martin

My interpretation currently is that yes, Jonerys is real in the books…

(just as it was in the fucking show until they decided to abandon all preestablished groundwork and foundation) …and has been thoroughly foreshadowed - and not in a tragic way.

First of all, the series is called ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ - while this stands for many things from literal to metaphorical, I’d say it absolutely encompasses Jon and Dany. I have some very unpopular ideas that ice actually represents Daenerys and fire, Jon. Whether or not I’m right about that, we have some hints that Jon will ultimately accept his Targaryen identity…

Subtle clue about who he is, in one of his true house’s colors:

“The next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.”Jon forced himself to smile back. “It was always my color.”

He idolizes historical Targaryens:

“Daeren Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.

He’d pretend to be Targaryens while playing as a child:

“I’m Prince Aemon the Dragonknight,” Jon would call out.

For Daenerys, we get this curious line:

“Mother of dragons, bride of fire…”

Bride could also be metaphorical in some way, sure, but let’s just say it’s literal. Jon is the dragon, the fire.

Okay, so for the books, I’ll try to hit the bullet points:

First and foremost, the pair are incredibly similar, both stepping into positions of rule after immersing themselves into a foreign culture, adapting to their way of life before making allies. Both Jon and Daenerys make grave mistakes while wielding power, and they learn from their mistakes. They’re being shaped into rulers.

Both fall in love, yet still feel alone:

“Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone.” / "Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone.“

Daenerys dreams of her lover:

“It was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.”

Jon is described as a shadow:

“A shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain.” / “He would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows”

Daenerys also dreams of life as a wife and mother:

“In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door.”

Both dream of children they will never have:

“I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms.” / "I will never have a little girl.“

From Jon’s first chapter, there are hints that Benjen knows his identity and that family might someday be important to Jon:

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Jon. The Night’s Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor. You are a boy of fourteen, not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.”

“I don’t care about that!” Jon said hotly.

“You might, if you knew what it meant,” Benjen said. “If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”

We have those quotes from Maester Aemon, that hint that Jon might choose love or a child over duty:

“What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms … or the memory of a brother’s smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”

While yes, Aemon hints that it is both glory and tragedy, we’re coming off a long, long line of tragic Targaryen love stories - the difference here being that one of these Targaryens is out to break the wheel that destroyed so many of these star-crossed, doomed Targaryens loves (Rhaegar/Lyanna, Duncan/Jenny, Daemon/Daenerys, Aemon/Naerys, etc).

Blue roses are linked to Lyanna Stark or even House Stark in general. In a vision, Daenerys sees:

“A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness.”

Meanwhile, there is foreshadowing that Dany will help Jon’s effort against the white walkers with lines like these:

“He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three.”

Daenerys, herself, has a weird moment with some ants while she wakes in the Dothraki Sea, brushing them off of her body as they swarm over a wall:

“To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.”

Around the same time, Jon is killed, whispering to his wolf:

“Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. He gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…

Meanwhile, after ‘opening her third eye’ with some berries, Daenerys hears the call of a wolf all the way over in Essos:

“Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely.”

We can extrapolate that this is, in fact, Ghost… as first, there don’t seem to be wolves in the Dothraki Sea, but also this line from Bran also provides context:

“Here in the chill damp darkness of the tomb his third eye had finally opened. He could reach Summer whenever he wanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon.”

Now that we know Jon’s true name (at least according to the show), this curious line from Daenerys also hints she might marry Jon:

“A crown should not sit easy on the head. One of her royal forebears had said that, once. Some Aegon, but which one? Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him.”

Meanwhile, Jon is infatuated with Val, a woman who sounds an awful lot like a precursor to Daenerys, who is a warrior woman with silver-pale hair… Jon is also reminded of Val’s hips and breasts and that she’s 'well made for whelping children’…

“The light of the half-moon turned Vals honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. The air tastes sweet.”

“Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her.”

“A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.”

As for GRRM, he told a helpful clue to director Alan Taylor circa season one of Game of Thrones:

“Anyways, he alluded to the fact that Jon and Dany were the point, kind of. That, at the time, there was a huge, vast array of characters, and Jon was a lowly, you know, bastard son. So it wasn’t clear to us at the time, but he did sort of say things that made it clear that the meeting and the convergence of Jon and Dany were sort of the point of the series. So, I was happy that a big step forward was taken in the episode I got to do this season is where he has fallen for her both, you know, emotionally and politically I think.”

But that’s not all. I did write a meta about the mother goddess Danu and her parallels with Dany - and this, to me, rings much more true to who Daenerys is in the books rather than whatever impostor is parading around in Dany’s skin on screen in season eight.

There is a lot of proof that GRRM puts a LOT of thought and detail into his books - even down to the Starks ‘howling’ and ‘growling’ and the Lannisters ‘roaring’. I’ve uncovered a cool trend where many of the names he assigns to characters reflect their numerological gemstone house colors - and the names he chooses all shed some light on the characters they are given to, such as Bran meaning ‘raven’ or Sandor meaning ‘defender of man’ or Gendry meaning ‘son-in-law’.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about these things, and I just cannot see GRRM throwing out all of his foreshadowing or all of the clever little things he’s been hinting at since book once, all for the sake of shock value or subverting expectations… That’s not his style and he speaks out against it.

Bearing that in mind, the clear mad queen is Cersei, who shares virtually every parallel to Aerys Targaryen - the way she tortures parent and child chained just out of reach from one another, the way torture sexually excites her, the way she was tortured into madness, and straight down to her wildfire use. Daenerys better fits the archetype of an anti-hero rather than a straight villain. With only two books left and still no signs of madness… I just don’t see it going down this way in the books.

As for whatever just happened with Daenerys, I’ve been given a compelling argument that in the books, as she squares off with (f)Aegon Targaryen, or, Young Griff, in an effort to expose the Mummer’s Dragon, she might accidentally set off these wildfire traps that make her look just like her father, and perhaps she even goes a little mad with grief.

Especially considering that ASOIAF is so heavily based on Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, which share countless parallels, such as:

Norn (White foxes)  → The Others (White walkers)

Sithi (Dawn children) → Singers (Children of the forest)

Witchwood  → Weirwood

The Storm King → Night’s King

Ineluki → Azor Ahai

Sorrow → Lightbringer

Black iron → Dragonglass

Nisse → Nissa Nissa

Hayholt Castle → Winterfell Castle

Green Angel Tower → Winterfell Crypts

Simon Snowlock (secret heritage) → Jon Snow

Princess Miriamele (disguised as a boy) → Arya Stark

Warring brothers King Elias/Josua → Stannis/Renly

Tailed star → Red comet

Black priest Pryrates → Red priest Melisandre

Daenerys is suspected to be the Princess Maegwin figure, a woman who “is forced to watch as forces conquer her people and is eventually driven to madness in her desperation to save them.”

You make a good point about Fire & Blood and ASOIAF prehistory, too. Aside from the doomed Targaryen love stories I mentioned earlier, we get another history book that basically gives us a rundown of various Targaryen ladies who never got to be queen. I’d say this book has a strong feminist message - and might even hint that the last vestige of House Targaryen just might accomplish what her foremothers could not - finally becoming the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Lastly, I’ll leave you with a clip from the man, himself, about Dany:

“From my mother’s stories, I always had this kind of sense that I was like disinherited royalty. Here was this dock that my great-grandfather built - it wasn’t ours anymore. Here was this house that my mother had been born in - we didn’t own this house anymore. We didn’t own any house, we had an apartment. So it was like, ugh, I came from greatness - like Dany! And I will take back what is mine with Fire and Blood! I think on some level, that must’ve gotten to me.”—George R. R. Martin

I could be wrong about all of this, of course… but that’s my current take. 🤷

[lgcjesse]

note:  an accurate representation of jc whenever he is around people. ^

₊ ˚  𝙅𝘾 𝘽𝘼𝙀.      ━   HELLO FRIENDS,  this is nic with a third muse.  you may also know me as lgcallie & lgcsubin.  i won’t bore you with a long intro but please like or add my krp twt @ eternitvs if you’re interested in plotting! there’s a character intro under the cut if you’d like to know more about jc. ^^

₊ ˚   LIFE BEFORE LEGACY

born as jesse bae to a pilot and a consultant in new york city.  his korean name is jehyun, but he never goes by it, preferring instead to be called jesse ( since he was born in new york / english is his first language / he’s americanized ) or jc.  things were a little easier for the family until his brother nathan came along, at which point it was decided that since both the parents couldn’t stay home much, the boys would attend a boarding school to receive the proper care they deserved

jc was an odd boy even as a child.  more of a loner who always kept to himself, so the lack of attention didn’t really bother him much.  nathan though, was a different story  -  he needed attention to thrive.  jc thrived in silence and being alone, and wished that others would leave him alone also

throughout their schooling years, nathan would get into trouble constantly but it was never more than slipping grades and quote unquote, “ acting out”.  jc kept an eye on him for the most part to be sure that he didn’t get into too much trouble, though nathan is ... belligerent and likes attention, which he mostly gets from jc ( though jc is loathe to admit it )  and / or being a little shit

as he grew older, jc started to realize how fake and manipulative people were, whether that would be his parents or his classmates or people who liked to label themselves his “ friend”.  their affections may have come easily, but he never really valued it because he didn’t see the truth in it

started learning guitar to cope with stress at a young age.  he’s always liked music, but something about fucking destroying his fingers while learning something that he saw beneficial was a welcome change

as much as jc ENJOYS being alone and thinks that affection is honestly an eyesore, it isn’t impossible for him to make friends.  in fact, he had one ( 1 ) real friend while he was in school but ... things happened

tw death, bullying, hazing  /  witnessed the death of his said only friend at the hands of bullies who were hazing him.  things got out of hand with their hazing and although jc was trying to get him to quit buying into their “ friendship” which is not what it was, said friend was insistent.  led to an accidental death and it honestly traumatized him and still does to this day

around the time of this occurrence, nathan went off the walls with one of his pranks and almost got expelled from school.  it was decided that he’d go to korea to study instead and to live with family members there.  jc, looking for a means to an escape, decided to go with him (  and he’ll never admit he was duty bound to keep an eye on his younger brother  )

₊ ˚  TRAINEE LIFE

a talent scout approached him after watching jc play guitar at a talent show that he somehow inexplicably got signed up for.  he had no idea what he was going to do at an idol company with a fucking guitar but you know .... 

decided to give it a try and got signed after his first audition in january 2017

quickly grew disillusioned with the potential for idol life, even if his brother was extremely jealous of his situation to the point that he auditioned for legacy himself in july 2017 and got in as well  -  jc just couldn’t remedy the fact that things seemed even more fake and manipulative in an entertainment world

definitely grew a distaste for the fact that some people aren’t really selected in the entertainment world because they’re talented but rather because they look good.  it just rubs him the wrong way, even if people in legacy get into the company based on audition only and not fully visuals

doesn’t help that he hates dancing and was often criticized for refusing to further his skills in that regard ... but he’d rather not do something he’s not good at in lieu of something that he is  -  which is singing and playing guitar

probably thought about dropping out of legacy more than once to go join a band or something .. but then remembered that he’d actually have to get along with the members of said band .... which means going out and looking for friends .... no thanks

₊ ˚  FUTURE DREAMS & ASPIRATIONS

when the subsidiary companies were announced, it was like a breath of fresh air for jc who quite frankly, finds the idol life a little lacklustre and uhh .. pathetic ..

so upon hearing about the band path, that became his new drive and focus.  the fact that being on the band path almost has a prerequisite for actual talent rather than a high focus on stunning good looks really spoke to him

has made it abundantly clear that he’s not interested in being an idol and continues to focus his studies and training on music that he enjoys as well as music that he enjoys performing

he’s not too hyper focused on playing a certain genre (  ie, heavy metal, soft rock, etc )  but he does have his preferences that lean towards a heavier rock sound

₊ ˚  HEADCANONS

has an antibrow & nose piercing, as well as the typical lobe piercings.  very likely has several tattoos but i as a mun have not decided what to give him yet ;;;

probably doesn’t smile.  if he smiles at you, you’re super lucky ... or should be scared i guess .. depends on the situation

though he has qualms with the idol industry and the ability for some to get by in it based on good looks and not much else, he knows there are some idols that are extremely talented.  it’s just that he doesn’t think there’s many of them lol  (  plot ideas?  )

although he seems rather abrasive, he has absolutely no energy to fight with anyone and will walk away with no remorse in silence while you’re having a bitch fit

probably really popular because he’s got that quote unquote, bad e -boy feel or something.  he absolutely hates this, hates being popular, hates having people look at him, and especially hates the people who like to lie about the fact that they’ve slept with him just for clout (  plot idea!  )

has slept around here and there, but it’s unlikely that he’ll ever sleep with the same person twice  (  affection is abhorrent  )  (  plot idea!  )

[miamistax]

Read this. Someone you know has lived these same experiences. This must end now.

David Gamble, Jr.

I grew up in Reno, Nevada.

In third grade a boy confidently tells me and my brother that his mom said black people cannot swim because our muscles are different than those of white people.

In middle school, standing among a group of white classmates talking video games, I am the only black child. One classmate expresses surprise that my family has enough money to afford a PlayStation.

In high school, I am the only black kid among a group of friends. When sharing drinks in my presence they frequently tell each other not to “niggerlip” the bottles. Even though I object, they continue to use the phrase.

In high school, my brother is at a teen house party that gets broken up by police, a common occurrence. The kids at the party scatter, also a common occurrence. My brother, the only black child in attendance, is the only one on whom a police officer draws a firearm to get him to stop running away. He is 14.

In high school, a group of my white friends frequently sneak on to the outdoor basketball courts at an athletic club to play. They can usually play for hours, including with club members. On the two occasions I attend, club members complain and we are ejected from the club within minutes.

In high school, I am excited about black history month and am talking to a friend about black inventors. My friend snorts and says, “Black people have never invented anything.”

In high school, as graduation approaches, many of my white friends tell me that I am lucky. They tell me that due to my skin color, I will get into any college I want.

I remain in Reno for college.

During college an employer keeps food for employees in the break room refrigerator. One morning I decided to have microwaveable chicken wings for breakfast. The employer tells me I might not want to eat that for breakfast with my skin color. The employer immediately apologizes.

In college I am standing in a group of white friends on campus. A white acquaintance of one of my friends approaches to chat. The acquaintance tells a story about something that frustrated him and then reels off a series of expletives ending with the word, “nigger.” None of my friends corrects him.

In college I visit an antique shop in Auburn, California with my girlfriend, who is white, and her parents. The shopkeeper follows me around the store whistling loudly as I browse, until we leave.

I move to San Diego, California for law school.

In law school, during a discussion in my criminal law class, a white classmate suggests that police officers should take a suspect’s race into account when determining whether there is reasonable suspicion to believe that an individual is committing a crime.

The weekend of my law school graduation my family comes to San Diego. I go to the mall with my brother and sister and visit the Burberry store. Two different employees follow us around the store – never speaking to us – until we leave.

After law school, I return to Reno.

A co-worker jokingly calls me “King David” upon seeing me each day. I joke that I’m not treated like a king. The co-worker then begins to call me “Slave David” each time we encounter one another. When I ask the co-worker to stop because it is hurtful, I am told by my co-worker that this is a problem that I have in my head.

I attend a pub crawl with friends. We end up at a party in a hotel suite in downtown Reno. I am greeted by a white man at the door who loudly expresses surprise that I am an “educated negro” upon hearing me speak.

I walk a friend who is a white woman from a restaurant to her car because it is night time. As we stand by the car chatting, a police officer pulls up and shines a light on us, asking if everything is okay. Once my friend confirms, the officer drives away. I tell her that he was worried about her, she teasingly says, “Oh yeah, because you’re so scary.” Later, I tell another white friend I felt racially profiled by the officer. My friend shrugs and says, “I don’t know man, that’s a stretch.”

A white friend tells me that white voters have become upset at black people because of black people’s liberal use of food welfare benefits. When I point out that more whites than blacks receive welfare benefits in the U.S., my friend expresses confusion at how that could be the case.

I leave a downtown restaurant with my wife. As we walk along the river a homeless man appears to be having a schizophrenic episode, engaging auditory hallucinations. Upon seeing me, he becomes lucid and begins to shout the word “nigger” over and over.

I discover that one of my clients does not want me to represent him as his Public Defender because he does not want a black attorney. I am given the option to withdraw as counsel. I do not.

Last year, I am at a barbecue chatting with a white acquaintance who asks if I have ever experienced racism. When I say it is a nearly daily occurrence, the acquaintance retorts, without missing a beat, “Bullshit.”

Two months ago. I am driving to lunch with the black teen I mentor. At a red light a white woman crosses the street. As I begin to drive, she turns around and screams at us, “F**k you f****ing nigger!”

Before any of these instances, my family of origin moved to Reno, Nevada from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1984.

My mother recently told me that when I was a very young child my parents hired a company to remove a tree from our front lawn. Two white men showed up and removed the tree. One of them carved a swastika into the stump. My father had to confront him and ask him to remove it.

Before that, my now 93 -year-old grandfather served in the Army National Guard and was stationed in the U.S. south. Despite being active duty, he was not allowed to eat in restaurants due to “whites only” signage. He had to wait for fellow Guardsmen to bring him food outside.

Not long before that, my family were slaves, owned by Americans of English and Irish descent, which is why – despite being primarily of African descent – I have an English last name.

This is my experience of being black in America. To be black in America is to be told over and over that you are not good enough, that you do not belong, that you are genetically unfit, that your physical presence is undesirable, and that everything about you – right down to your lips – is wrong. It is absolutely true that everyone experiences hardships in life, but the psychological weight of being told both explicitly and implicitly, on a daily basis, that your very existence is objectionable can at times feel unbearable.

And despite this experience, I still love my country, my state, and my city. Despite my experience, I would not choose to be anything other than a black American. The history of black people in this country is one of struggle and triumph. Our people were brought to this country as slaves and against all odds, in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, have made our mark. Through slavery, poll taxes, literacy tests, redlining, and black codes we have persevered. Through the unspeakable horrors of mass lynchings; the Tuskegee syphilis experiments; and the massacres at Tulsa and Rosewood, we have persevered.

Bass Reeves, Dovey Johnson Roundtree, Sarah Boone, Oscar Micheaux, Shirley Chisholm, Dorie Miller, Susie King Taylor, Georgia Gilmore, Octavius Catto, Jack Johnson, Garrett Morgan, James W.C. Pennington. These are just a handful of extraordinary and oft forgotten black Americans who helped to mold and preserve the American Dream. These individuals and their accomplishments should not be regarded as “black history,” but rather as American history.

I am an American of privilege, which makes me an African American of great privilege. I am an attorney. I live in a safe neighborhood. My children do not worry about their next meal. I can afford child care. My family can afford personal vehicles. If my children become sick, I can take them to the doctor. If I am this privileged, and these have been my experiences, primarily in my own hometown, often with friends and acquaintances who are fond of me, and of whom I remain fond even now; just imagine what daily life must be like for a black person in this country who does not enjoy my level of privilege.

The protests in the streets of America are certainly about the killing of George Floyd, but not just about George Floyd. They are about countless black men, women, and children for whom the punishment did not fit the crime – if indeed there was a crime at all. We live in a country where, in order to recall what life under Jim Crow felt like, many white Americans must pick up a history book. Meanwhile, many black Americans need only pick up a telephone, and call their parents.

When we as people of color share our experiences, we are not doing so to score political points, “play the race card,” get sympathy, assign blame, or to make you feel bad about yourself. We are asking you for help. We are asking you to join us in the ongoing fight against racism in our country, because we cannot do it alone. It will take Americans of every stripe to eradicate racism from American society.

I am now asking for your help. Please seek truth and knowledge. When sharing information, please check your sources and make sure that they are reliable. Try to place what is happening today into a historical context. Read about systemic racism and anti-racism. When your friends of color tell you that racism is real and affecting their lives, believe them and then, if you can, do something about it.

My children are likely to attend the same middle school and high school that I did. It is my great hope for them that those around them have the knowledge, compassion, and guidance to know better than to daily deluge them with words that make them doubt their intelligence, their beauty, and their worth as human beings based only on the color of their skin; and instead judge them by the content of their character.

It is for all of the above reasons, and so many more that we proudly say #blacklivesmatter

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Sunday 17 May 1992 - by Alinda

Sunday 17 May 1992

Dear mom and dad,

Don’t get mad, but I’ve gotten myself in trouble and have to serve detention sometime soon. I promise it was for a good reason. We had to save Hagrid’s dragon, but we got caught by Professor McGonagall.

On the first Wednesday after the Easter holidays, Hagrid send us a note saying that his dragon egg was hatching. I was having lunch with Draco and Blaise when his note arrived. It only said: It’s hatching. Draco wanted to know what was hatching and on our way to Herbology, I told him that Hagrid was hiding a dragon egg in his hut. Draco his mouth fell open in surprise and he wanted to skip Herbology to go watch the egg hatch. I agreed with him and ran up to Hermione and Ron to tell them we were going to Hagrid. Ron wanted to come with, but Hermione wouldn’t hear of it. She started complaining, but Ron silenced her when Draco came closer. I told them Draco knows and Ron was outraged. He said I was an idiot for trusting Malfoy, that he would betray Hagrid and get him fired. Draco then called Ron a fool and they started bickering. I just took Hermione’s arm and escorted her to Hagrid’s hut. Ron and Draco followed us still calling each other names until we reached the door.

When we came to Hagrid’s hut, he also looks suspicious of Draco being there but didn’t say anything. The egg was already full of deep cracks and a funny clicking noise was coming from it. We watched closely and with a scraping noise, the egg split open. A baby dragon looks ugly, like a crumpled, black umbrella. And it had huge wings compared to its skinny body. Its eyes are orange and it had stubs of horns and a long snout with wide nostrils. Hagrid thought it was beautiful, Draco said it looks disgusting and wanted to leave. He froze on his way to the door, saying someone had looked through the window. I jumped to my feet and threw the door open and saw Nott running away in the distance.

Only nothing happened, Nott just kept giving me and Draco lurking faces in the next week. Hermione, Ron, Neville and I spend a lot of time at Hagrid’s darkened hut, trying to make him realize he can’t keep the dragon. But he even named it Norbert, like it’s a little child. It had grown three times in length in that first week and Hagrid didn’t do anything else than look after it, ignoring all his gamekeeping duties. Draco didn’t want to come with to Hagrid. He always made up excuses about homework he still needed to do.

I knew he was lying about the homework because I’ve been studying with him a lot since Hermione went into ‘oh no, exams are only a few weeks away, we need to stress out and drag everyone around me with me into a study frenzy’ mode. It’s really nice to work with Draco. He’s really smart and I think I might even pass potions with a decent grade now thanks to him. If he starts talking to me again that is. He also got detention, and that is kind of my fault.

Like I was telling, we tried to convince Hagrid to let Norbert go, but he wouldn’t, saying it would die if he would set it free. And then I had an idea. Ron his older brother Charlie studies dragons in Romania. I asked Ron if we could send Norbert to him. Hagrid needed some convincing but soon realized that it would be the best chance for Norbert. So Ron wrote a letter to Charlie.

It took a week of helping Hagrid, going to class, studying for the exams and learning defensive charms and jinxes to get back at Nott and Crabbe from Draco before we got an answer from Charlie. It was on a Wednesday. Ron had gotten bitten by Norbert that afternoon and he was all upset that Hagrid said it only bit him because he had frightening it and that Hagrid had started singing it a lullaby when Ron left.

Charlie was willing to take the dragon and even had a plan to get it to Romania. Some friends of him would come this Saturday night to the tallest tower of Hogwarts to take him away when it was still dark. Hermione sends an answer right away since Ron couldn’t write because of the bite to his hand. They were just wondering how we would get the dragon up to the tower without anyone seeing us. I knew we could use the invisibility cloak, but that mend I had to tell them about it. And I trust them, Hermione the most, but it was my secret. A secret only Draco knew about.

By the next morning, Ron his bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size and the cut had turned a nasty shade of green. Draco said that it is what you get if you mess with dangerous animals. Ron had to go to the hospital wing and when Hermione and I went to visit him at the end of the day he was even worse. We told him he should just rest and that we would take care of the dragon on Saturday. With Ron out of the picture, I could tell Hermione about the cloak and we could do it together, just her and me. And we really needed the cloak, since Crabbe had stopped by at the hospital wing to borrow a book from Ron, the book with Charlie’s letter in there. Meaning Crabbe and Nott would know that we are going to get rid of Norbert on Saturday.

The next day I told Hermione about the cloak. She was fascinated with it and decided to research invisibility cloaks right away. Hermione believed it would be enough to make sure that Nott and Crabbe won’t catch us since they don’t know about it. I also told Malfoy what we were going to do and he told me to be careful and that he would keep an eye on Nott and Crabbe on Saturday, to make sure they won’t notice when I would sneak out with my cloak. He didn’t want to come with. I think he’s afraid of the dragon. He keeps saying it’s a dangerous animal and that it could hurt us if we aren’t careful. I wonder what he would think of Fluffy on the third floor. I almost forgot about Fluffy and the stone with everything that’s going on. I think I should tell Draco about it to see what he thinks. But he likes Snape, so I don’t think he will believe me when I tell him Snape wants to steal it.  

And then Saturday arrived. It was a very dark and cloudy night. Draco made sure Nott, Crabbe and Goyle didn’t come into the dormitory when I took out my cloak and hit it under my pillow. Around eleven, when everyone except Draco and I were asleep I hit underneath my cloak and walked up to the Gryffindor common room after Draco wished me luck.

Hermione was waiting for me when I knocked on the frame of the fat lady, to let her know I was there. We had to wait for Peeves to get of our way in the entrance hall, where he was playing tennis against the wall, so we were running late. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate, saying he had packed it’s teddy bear in case he would get lonely. We covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and somehow managed to get back to the castle and up all the staircases until we reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

There were people ahead of us. Hermione and I forgot for a moment that we were already invisible and shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other. Draco was one of the people, together with Professor McGonagall. She shouted: ‘Detention, and twenty points from Slytherin!’ Draco tried to convince her that Nott was coming; that he was planning on hurting Harry again, but the professor wouldn’t believe him. And I think the statement was more mend for me than for the professor. Draco had wandered out at night to try to warn me. And now he’s in trouble because of it. I feel really bad about that.

Hermione and I struggled up the spiral staircase up to the top of the tower. I had tears in my eyes because of what had happened to Draco and I throw off the cloak as soon as we were out in the cold night air. I tried to hide my tears and tried not to get angry with Hermione, who was a little bit happy about Draco losing points for Slytherin. He came up to help us and all she cared about was house points.

Charlie’s friends came only minutes later and they rigged Norbert up in a harness so they could suspend him between them. We helped them buckle Norbert safely into it and then they were gone. We slipped back down the spiral staircase. I felt horrible and didn’t feel like going back to the dungeon where I would find an upset Draco. And I didn’t really get a chance to get back there, because we had forgotten to put the invisibility cloak back on. I left it on top of the tower and I’m sure I’ll never see it again. And on top of that Filch was waiting for us at the foot of the stairs.

Filch took us to professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor. We waited without saying a word. Hermione was trembling and I was trying to find a good excuse for why we were out of bed in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t come up with anything. And I had lost your cloak dad and had gotten Draco into trouble, making him lose points for Slytherin for the first time ever. I was sure if we told professor McGonagall the true she would expel us on the spot and make sure Hagrid would get fired.

And things got even worse when Professor McGonagall came into her study. She was leading Nott who started shouting that he was going to catch me because I had a dragon. Professor McGonagall was very angry and told us it was wrong to make up lies to get back on students. Even worse was that Draco had tried to help Harry and had already lost Slytherin points and scored himself a detention because of the cock-and-bull story about a dragon I had made up. She said she thought Granger would have more sense and that she had expected me to be better than this. We all got detentions and she took fifty points each from our houses. I tried to plead with her to not take that many points, but she said that I couldn’t tell her was she could and couldn’t do. She would also report us to Snape.

After that, we were escorted back to our dormitories. We had lost a hundred and twenty points for Slytherin that night. And Gryffindor was already leading because they had been winning with Quidditch. Because of me, Slytherin was now in the last place. Nott went to his bed without saying a word, but I was sure he would also blame it all on me. And Draco was hiding in his bed. I didn’t sleep all night. I could hear Draco sobbing into his pillow for hours. I didn’t know what to say to comfort him, how sorry I was that he had gotten into trouble because of me.

The next day most of the Slytherins passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points thought there’d been a mistake until the story started to spread that I, the famous Harry Potter and some other stupid first years had lost them all those points. I was suddenly the most hated person in Slytherin. And Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs started to congratulate me on making Slytherin lose the house cup.

Some older Slytherin students made me leave the Slytherin table in the great hall this morning, saying I should go hang out with my Gryffindor friends since I was only planning on shaming my house. I hope they won’t do anything worse to me, like what Nott and Crabbe had done to me in March. My eye has healed mostly by the way. I did need new subscriptions for my glasses because my eye is a little worse than before. But I can see everything just fine with my new glasses.

Draco hasn’t said a word to me all day, hasn’t even looked my way. I think he hates me again. And that is the worst of all. I know Hermione, Ron and Neville are still my friends. And Blaise is also polite to me, just laying low until the worst of this is over, so he won’t also get in trouble with our fellow Slytherin. But I miss Draco’s jokes and I could really use his help with the potions essay I was writing today. I just don’t know how I can tell him that I’m really sorry when he won’t talk to me or even look at me.

Love you, and I’m sorry I messed everything up,

Your Harry James Potter.

[prorevenge]

Friend lodges a Police Report just to throw away his chances at life.

This story mainly revolves around a friend (K) of mine and a (former) friend (J) of his. K's sister, C, was also involved. I played a very minor role.

K as a person is a great individual. Extremely smart, aces every test, loves history/politics/economics. He is the self classified nerd of the grade with an ace in every subject. Contrary to popular belief, he was not bullied for this. In fact, due to his generosity and intelligence, many had already pegged him as going far in life.

J was also along similar lines, but was very eccentric. Still, both were nearly inseparable and were great friends.

The two of them loved talking part in History Bowls and academic competitions of any kind. Over the years, the schools cabinet had begun to teem with their accomplishments.

However, after a History Bowl both of them attended together, their relationship started to fray. While they had come in third as a team, K had come in 1st under individual rankings while J came in a distant 7th. Both positions received a trophy, so in total they received three trophies (one for the team, one for 1st place and one for 7th place). As a courtesy, seeing the J could had no space for the trophy that day, K offered to take it back with him, and return it during school. J obliged.

Our school usually honours students who win outside events by calling them up on stage in front of the whole school and getting the director and HOS (head of school) to present the award to the students. As such, they did the same for K and J. However, on that day, J had an exam he had to be in, and as such, missed out on the presentation. K received the awards on behalf of both of them, and specifically took the microphone to mention that J was a team member as well, incase anybody felt that all the awards belong to K only.

But, when J heard what had conspired, he was furious. He felt that the presentation should have been postponed and felt that K was doing it on purpose. He felt even more verified in his theory when K forgot to bring the trophies on another day in order to return J's back to him (K is like that all the time, its something we all like as it adds a bit of character to a person in a world where everyone strives to be perfect, but clearly J does not). He went full on atomic on K, calling him all sorts of names and effectively throwing their friendship into the bin. K felt hurt, but thought that was the end of it.

No, that WASN'T the end of it. J went around slandering K's name behind him. As a school, we all knew K well, so really didn't take anything seriously. J got really pissed, and started making Facebook posts, messaging K's professor friends to slander his name further. K's older sister, C, got wind of this. She turned red with fury. She was School President and felt it was her duty to protect the students, but if somebody messes with her brother, god save them. And that's what she did. She cornered J one day and let him know in not so pleasant terms that he is messing with the wrong person and to stay away.

For some reason, J suddenly took this to another level. His mom and him went to the police the next day and lodged a report against K, C and their parents for slander and harassment. Then, J's mom proceeded to call K's mom and go Godzilla on her, boasting about how she is going to go to jail and that "she is going to regret creating her two kids." Luckily, we live in a single consent state, and I guess you know where this is going.

But, guess what the police did. They threw the case out. They cited a lack of evidence for the case and threw it out.

You would think this would be the end of it, but no, we keep going.

J and his mom were properly pissed at this point. Nothing was going according to their plan. So they kept with the slander campaign, ramping up efforts on Facebook. I have no idea what they were thinking.

While this was going on, J was running up trouble with the school's administration as well. You see, J was in the grade above us, and was in the midst of applying to universities. As part of his application, he needed a school code to verify the application. But the school was delaying the handoff of this code. J had been severely abusing his mother's influence and connections to bend the school administration backwards, giving him better predicted grades which would be sent to the universities.

The teachers were pissed at this, as they had spent countless evenings doing the predicted grades for all the students in the cohort, and here was a kid abusing his influence so that he could get an unfair advantage over others. Understandably, therefore, they delayed the handoff.

J got even more pissed. CC'ing his mother in the email, as well the director and HOS, he sent three scathing emails to the Curriculum and Course Co-ordinator of the school, calling her "a bitch" who was too interested in "serving others" and wanted "him to die", even though she had never mentioned this. This was too much for the school, who struck him off the roll of graduates and blocked all contact with him, never sending him the code. This was in March, which will be pertinent later.

It is important to note that except for J and the school administration, nobody had any idea that J was off the graduations, and when graduation rolled around in August, and he was not there, we were surprised but relieved, as we thought that this would be the end of it.

Fast forward a few months to November, and I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw J had made a post with screenshots of the emails he sent to the administrator. In the post, he was gloating about how he had played the administrator, by apologizing to the administrator a month after sending those emails, and how they replied back with the code to get him out of their hair, and how he has the upper hand now and had got into university (he mentioned which but I won't post it) and wanted the world "to see the school as it really is".

What he did not count on was me seeing it, and K's inactive second Facebook account which was still friends with J. I quickly let K know, and screenshot the emails in case K needed it later. K did the same, after which he posted on the account that he was deactivating it because there was spam on it. J must have seen this post, because less than two minutes after, his own post was deleted.

But this is not where it ends. K wanted to take revenge for the months of abuse and psychological harm his family and him underwent. Thus, with my help, we collated the evidence, including the phone call and screenshots of the email, as well as screenshots of the other posts he made, and, I am not sure on this part as I was not involved here, K sent the email to the university he was enrolled in, and to the school.

This was the last straw for the school, who proceeded to officially expel him, and then sent the details of the whole incident to all universities they were partnered with and have contact with to which he had applied, leading to them cancelling his application to their universities.

Last we heard (we all blocked him afterwards) he knew it was us, but had no evidence to prove this. His offer from the university was retracted, and he has been unable to apply to any university in Europe and US.

TL;DR: J decides to get all pissy because he missed out on award ceremony, slandering K and lodging false police reports against K's family and K himself. Same time, he starts being hostile with the school administration and boasts about it. K pulls all evidence and phone call, and sends it to school and J's university, getting his offer retracted and effectively blacklisting him from a majority of the universities in Europe and US.

(source) (story by HeavyVictory0)

[theyearoftheking]

Book Twenty-Six: The Drawing of the Three

“Here is another one ready to die for you, Roland. What great wrong did you ever do that you should inspire such terrible loyalty in so many?”

I’m annoyed. I had almost this entire blog written and thanks to the magic of the interwebz, it never saved as a draft, and is now gone forever. I’m trying to keep my rage to a manageable level, I have a conference call in about an hour, and rage would not be appreciated. 

So, let’s try this again. 

Yes, I totally just saved this as a draft once again. I’m going to be compulsively doing that for the next hour. My apologies, you’ll be getting a far less robust post than I initially intended. Blame Tumblr. 

I loved opening The Drawing of the Three and reading it for the hundredth time. I can’t explain the comfort that comes with Roland waking up on the beach to the lobstrosities, or looking at the bizarre artwork that doesn’t match up with my mental images of the story. Or reading about Eddie and Susannah/Detta/Odetta and their fantastic backstories. This is one of my favorite books in the Dark Tower universe and re-reading it is never a disappointment.

However, I fear I’ve been doing something all wrong up until this point. I have been keeping track of Dark Tower mentions in other books, but I wasn’t prepared for the number of other Steve books mentioned within this one. So far we’ve got:

The Shining: Eddie talks repeatedly about the movie, and even speaks very highly of Stanley Kubrick, so that was fun. 

The Stand/The Eyes of the Dragon: towards the end of the novel, Roland mentions our crafty friend Flagg. 

Misery: Jack Mort, the “pusher” refers to himself as a “Do-Bee;” a reference that would have made no sense to me had I not just finished reading Misery. 

This is me, trying to tie all the threads together...

One glaring thing I never picked up on until this re-read: this book should have been called The Drawing of the Two. Yes, Roland walks through three doors, but only ends up with two members of his ka-tet. He basically just uses Jack Mort as a way to stock back up on ammo and medicine. Wow... Roland isn’t that different from social distancing hoarders right now. But I digress. We don’t get the final member of our ka-tet until the next book.

Ka. 

For those not familiar with the term, Roland defines it as, “...it means duty, or destiny, or in the vulgate, a place you must go...I don’t discuss philosophy. I don’t study history. All I know is what’s past is past, and what’s ahead is ahead. The second is ka, and takes care of itself.” 

The Drawing of the Three opens with Roland washed up on a beach, having his extremities munched on by lobstosities. He ends up losing a toe, and two fingers; which is bad business for a gunslinger. He fights off the lobstrosities, and passes out further up the beach and out of the reach of their little claws. 

Roland eventually starts his sojourn down the beach where he encounters the first of three doors. This one is labeled, “The Prisoner”. The prisoner in question is Eddie Dean, a heroin junkie currently flying back to New York from Nassau, with cocaine taped to his body. Smart, right? Roland basically jumps into Eddie’s body and helps him evade customs officers by transporting the drugs back through the door and into his world. There’s an ensuing gunfight with the Italian mafioso who hired Eddie to smuggle the drugs, and Roland helps him survive. 

There’s also a lot of back story about Eddie’s brother, Henry Dean: eminent sage and junkie; who was responsible for getting Eddie hooked on drugs in the first place; and the guilt Eddie feels for Henry’s death. Eddie is a complex, well-drawn character that you equally sympathize with, and want to kill. 

Roland and Eddie are a hot mess: Eddie is going through heroin withdrawals, and Roland is fighting off an infection from the lobstrosities bites. But they keep pushing on, and make their way to the second door: “The Lady of Shadows”. The “lady” is Detta, or Odetta Holmes, depending on which personality has come out to play. Odetta Holmes is the wealthy heir to a dental fortune, and she spends her days doing the things classy ladies do: shopping, lunching, civil rights protesting, and being driven around town, because a she’s missing her legs from the knees down (the result of being pushed in front of a subway train). Odetta is pretty, kind, and well spoken. Detta on the other hand, is a demon from hell. Neither woman knows of the other, and when Detta is inhabiting her body, Odetta think she’s just had a bad headache and has passed out for a bit.

As someone who suffers from migraines, I seriously hope I don’t have an evil twin who takes over when I’m passed out. My drunk alter ego, Rosie, is already too much for me to have to deal with. 

But Roland and Eddie have their hands full with Odetta/Detta; and Detta keeps trying to kill them every chance she gets. It’s both terrifying and entertaining. Eddie is over the worst of his withdrawals, but Roland is seriously knocking on death’s door by the time they find the third door: “The Pusher”. 

The Pusher is Jack Mort, who is responsible for pushing Odetta in front of a subway train, and in a coincidental turn of events; dropped a brick on her head when she was a small girl, which could have caused the Odetta/Detta personalities. And, remember Jake from the The Gunslinger? Mort was maybe the one who pushed Jake in front of a taxi and killed him. But unlike Eddie and Odetta/Detta, Roland doesn’t bring Jack back with him. Instead, he just inhabits his body to get antibiotics and ammo. As you do. 

Roland forces Jack to jump in front of the same subway train that maimed Odetta/Detta; which kills him, but also causes a battle royale between the two personalities and ultimately creates Susannah Dean: a combination of her two previous personalities. 

Got all that? 

So, Roland recovers from his infection, Eddie and Susannah fall in love, and Roland admits he’s probably going to end up sacrificing them both on his journey for the tower. 

The end. 

I’m pretty sure my first review was more eloquent, but you get the idea. It’s a fantastic story full of deep character development, and it leaves you wondering what’s going to happen in the next installment. Well, if we were reading these in real time, we’d only have four years to wait for the next book. But, we only have six more books to read before we get back to Jake, Blane, and the Wastelands. Bring it!!! 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 16

Total Dark Tower References: 21

Book Grade: A-

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

Next up is The Tommyknockers, which I know absolutely nothing about. But the first few pages involve a beagle, soooo... there’s that. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

[tisfan]

Kicking and Screaming

Square: I1 - Sports By @27dragons and @tisfan Title: Kicking and Screaming Warning: None Rating: Teen Characters: Bucky, Tony, Phil Coulon, the rest of the Avengers Tags: Coulson Lives, Team Sports, competitive, feed your supersoldiers regularly Summary: Coulson should get hazard pay: it’s mandatory team building for the Avengers again. Link: AO3 Word Count: 2872 Posted for @winterironbingo

Coulson trudged out onto the playing field -- miles away from civilization so they didn’t accidentally break anything fragile, like New York City -- with a bright red kickball. Avenger’s baseball was bad for the surrounding countryside.

“All right,” he said, firmly no-nonsense. “Team captains today are: Bruce Banner and Peter Parker. Pick your teams, for a game of kickball.”

“What is kickball? Is it like golf?” Thor wondered, eyeing the ball. Coulson had sudden images of Thor using his hammer on the field, and was glad that, for the most part, the ball was extremely durable. Special design. Even the Wolverine could have played, if he’d wanted to.

“It’s kinda like baseball,” Peter volunteered. “Only the ball rolls on the ground instead of being thrown, and you kick it instead of hitting it with a bat. I want Mr. Stark.”

“And unlike in soccer, outfield can catch the ball with their hands,” Bruce said, thoughtfully. “If you’re taking Tony, I want Steve.”

That was smart, Coulson thought. Steve and Tony bickered enough when they were on opposing sides. Putting them on the same side, outside of a combat situation, and they’d end up yelling at each other for days about strategy and battle plans, and other ridiculous things. Fury, Coulson decided, was not punishing the Avengers with this mandatory team building stuff. He was angry with Coulson for reasons Coulson hadn’t discovered yet.

Refereeing the Avengers was like trying to sell portable heaters in hell.

“If you get Cap, then we get the other super-soldier,” Tony said.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter protested. “I’m supposed to pick!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine, go on then, pick. Just pick Bucky.”

(more below the cut)

Peter scowled at Tony. Coulson wasn’t going to admit it was kind of cute. “We need Clint,” he said.

“We do?”

“You need good aim for kickball,” Peter said firmly. “Clint, c’mon.”

“I got good aim, kid,” Bucky protested, looking offended. Really, the two of them were close to matched for rifle, although Clint was better with improvised thrown weapons. Like bottles. And keys. And once, another teammate.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, then, casually, “Then prove it. We’ll take Bucky.”

“Bruce!” Tony protested. “You can’t split me and Bucky up! We’re like peanut butter and jelly! Green eggs and ham!”

“Bonnie and Clyde?” Bruce suggested. “Sorry, Tony. All’s fair in love and kickball.”

Peter eyed the remaining Avengers. “Uh. Natasha?”

“Say it like you mean it, kid,” Tony advised.

“Natasha,” Peter repeated.

Natasha didn’t even bother to get up, doing that thing with her eyebrow and jaw that suggested the lines of battle just got redrawn around her.

Bruce smirked. “Thor.”

“Going for the brawn versus brains this time, I guess,” Clint said.

“Then you’re on the wrong team,” Natasha said.

“Aw, Nat, that was painful. I’m hurt. There might be actual tears.”

“For them,” Natasha said, and she took a sip of her smoothie through a straw before putting it aside and lazily wandering over to Peter’s side.

Peter chewed on his lip.

“We could use another enhanced person,” Natasha suggested.

Peter nodded. “Vision.”

“Oh, sure, you’ll listen to her advice, but not mine?” Tony complained.

“Perhaps if you had structured your advice as such,” Vision said, “rather than simply assuming our captain would take your suggestion.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Tony said. He pointed at Bruce. “Your team is going down, Green Machine.”

“You keep saying that,” Bruce remarked. “And we’ll take Wanda.”

“What is this, split up the couples night?” Rhodes asked. “I’m all for it, you go on with your bad self, Bruce.”

Wanda floated over to join her teammates. She landed daintily on the ground just behind Bucky’s shoulder.

“And we’ll take Colonel Rhodes,” Peter said.

“And I’m last, why’s a brother always last,” Sam muttered, but he went to join Bruce’s team, high fiving it with Steve.

“If I say I want a nice clean game, I don’t suppose any of you will listen, right?”

“Probably not, no,” Natasha commented. “That’s really not, you know, what we do.”

“I don’t even want to know what you do, Agent Romanoff,” Coulson said. “Captains-- try not to kill anyone or break any small cities, you know the drill.” He fished out a coin from his front pocket. “Call it, Mr. Parker.”

Peter didn’t even bother to call it; he flicked his hand out and grabbed the coin right out of the air with a bit of sticky goo, dropping it into Tony’s hand. “Tails, we win.”

“You are a bad influence on a sweet kid,” Coulson chided. He wasn’t sure if he was directing that comment toward Natasha or Tony. It didn’t matter, it applied to both.

“You’re just now figuring this out?” Tony asked. He scooped up the ball and tossed it at Bucky with a challenging smirk. “I assume you’ll be the pitcher. Come on, team, let’s work out our batting order.”

Coulson shook his head a few times and went to stand guard halfway between first and second base. “As always, my word is law, unless you want me to suggest to Fury that we need a full time Avenger watching the Fridge.”

Guard duty was demeaning and boring, except when it wasn’t. None of the Avengers wanted that.

“I’ll kick first,” Rhodey said, patting his leg brace with a smirk. “They always underestimate just how much power you put in these babies.”

“Kick it away from Wanda,” Natasha suggested.

“Or, alternatively, kick it right at her face,” Clint said. “Her magic’s good, but she still flinches when you go for the headshot.”

“Solid strategy,” Tony agreed. “Uh, let’s avoid beaning Bruce. No one needs a repeat of the baseball fiasco.”

“You kick second, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “Then Hawkeye, Miss Widow, Mr. Vision, and me last?” He glanced around to check and make sure all the adults were onboard with his plan.

In the outfield, Thor had put himself out in the outfield, along with Wanda, while Steve took up position behind home plate, Bucky was pitching, as Tony had suggested, and Sam floated around infield. Unless someone bunted, there wasn’t going to be a lot of work for an infielder, so it was probably just laziness. And Bruce was at the shortstop position.

“All right, Avengers. Play ball,” Coulson hollered. Reminded himself that Tahiti was a magical place and if this ended in his death (again) he wouldn’t be surprised.

As Rhodey had predicted, Bruce’s team pulled in when Rhodey stepped up to the plate. Rhodey was hamming it up, too, limping a little. Tony was hard-pressed to conceal his smirk. He’d have thought Bucky, at least, would have some idea of Rhodey’s power -- Tony bounced most of his upgrade ideas off Bucky -- but no, Bucky actually rolled the ball straight down the center, fair and true, if perhaps with a little more oomph than your average fourth-grader.

It had to be one of those specially reinforced balls, because if Rhodey had kicked something made out of builder grade rubber that hard, it would have exploded on contact. Instead, the ball made a satisfying whoooong noise and sailed nearly straight back to Bucky, but on the left side instead of the right, and about hip level.

Which meant all of Bucky’s blind spots, where his wrist wasn’t quite as flexible.

Rhodey didn’t bother to look, just took off for first base at his somewhat faster than human normal pace; those braces, if he was pushing the capacitors, could carry him along at a brisk thirty miles an hour. Not as fast as a super soldier, but Rhodey’s muscles and skeleton didn’t have the extra reinforcing needed for that kind of speed.

He held at first, since Wanda recovered the ball and zipped it over to Bruce -- she didn’t even throw the damn thing, just used her magic to push it around -- who stood guard over second base.

No one really wanted to be the first person to plow into Bruce.

Tony stepped up to the home plate, scuffing at the dirt and rubber, testing the feel of it, and shot a grin at Bucky. “Gonna treat me right, sugarplum?”

“Yeah, you wish, dollface,” Bucky said, and this time, when he rolled the ball, it did a weird swerve, just at the end of the path. Just like when playing pool, Tony could calculate rate and spin and angles, and as soon as he saw the little wobble in the ball, he knew just which way it was going to curve.

He wasn’t quite Hawkeye -- he couldn’t predict exactly where the ball was going to go after he kicked it, but he managed to kick it, anyway. The ball surprised him by shooting up as much as out, and that was all Tony saw before he took off running.

Rhodey was already clearing second and headed to third when Tony got hit in the lower back by the ball so hard that it almost knocked him off his feet. “Out!” Coulson yelled from the sidelines.

Tony whirled around to see Bucky smirking at him, those pouty lips practically taunting him. “You heard the man, sugarplum. Go siddown.”

“Okay,” Tony said, smiling sweetly. “I’m going to give you that one. Dollface.” He strode back over to his team and dropped onto the bench. “Sonovabitch,” he muttered, “I’m gonna be pissing fucking blood.”

Vision held out one maroon hand over Tony’s back, light. A tingle of heat passed between his skin and the synthoid’s fingers. “Your internal organs appear to be intact,” Vision reassured him, so earnest as he always was.

Hawkeye took his turn, and, as promised, just about put the ball right through Wanda’s head. Rather than catching it, or even blocking it with her magic, she dove to the ground to avoid it, letting it roll unfettered, out into the far end of left field, bringing Rhodey home to score, and Clint to an easy, laughing second-base position.

Natasha stepped up to the plate, no bravado or fuss. Some kind of communication seemed to sizzle in the air between her and Bucky. Tony was too far away to see if Bucky played any tricks with the ball, but Natasha’s kick connected solidly and sent the ball soaring upward, directly over Bruce’s head.

Bruce leaped up to catch it, brushing the ball with his fingertips. Which might have been okay, except that Thor decided to go for the ball as well, and they collided mid-air like twin boulders being smacked together.

“Safe,” Coulson declared, because throwing one’s teammate instead of the ball didn’t count.

Hulk turned around and glared at Coulson for it, who prudently took a step backward.

And while that was going on, Hawkeye stole third. And then home.

Natasha gave them a thumbs up from her position at first base.

Vision should have been an easy run -- his calculation abilities were vastly superior to even Tony’s -- but he seemed too curious about the way the ball moved, or the puffs of dirt that rose up around it, or something, to properly gauge his kick. Three strikes, and then Vision was taking his place on the bench beside Tony.

“Guess we need to work on your hand-eye coordination,” Tony said.

“My hands caused no issues,” Vision said solemnly.

It was probably that Peter was so tiny -- the guy looked like a high school sophomore, and he acted even younger most of the time -- that people were constantly underestimating his strength, but he was stronger than Steve and Bucky put together, could go toe-to-toe with the Hulk, and no one wanted to destroy the planet enough for some friendly fighting between Thor and Spider-Man.

Tony shaded his eyes with his hand, watching the ball disappear somewhere way, way past homerun territory.

Nat didn’t even run. She just strolled around the bases. Tony was almost positive that she was, in fact, doing a classic ballet walk.

“Four to zero,” Coulson announced, “with two outs.”

Tony and Clint took the opportunity to teach Vision some classic trash-talk. And the game went on.

It wasn’t going to be the other team that beat them, Bucky decided, getting up to pitch (well, roll, but whatever), but instead, it was going to be metabolism.

Early on, Steve had tried to call for a snack break, which Tony had point blank refused to allow, arguing that the game went on until all nine innings were played, or the team captain conceded. “You can play a man or two down, if you need a Snickers that bad,” he’d said.

Bucky’s stomach rumbled.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t go long stretches without food, but between Thor, Hulk, Steve, and Bucky, they were all used to a sort of grazing pattern unless it was an emergency. Eight thousand calories a day minimum took time to eat.

Bucky was about ready to eat home plate, if this went on much longer.

They had to fight for every out; the score was ridiculous. Eighty-three to seventy-nine, with Tony’s team coming up to kick. (Not that it was Tony’s team, technically it was Peter’s team, but somehow, it had come down to some challenge of wills between Steve and Tony. Again.)

At least it was the ninth inning.

And going on hour five of the game. For some kindergartener shit, the game had gotten cut-throat.

“Swing batter batter batter,” Steve chanted, squatting in his catching position.

Which really put him a lot closer to Tony’s ass than Bucky felt entirely comfortable with.

Tony took his sweet time getting up to the plate, too, stretching and twisting his spine to loosen up. He even leaned way down to touch his toes, stretching his calves, and if he thought Bucky would buy that it was an accident that the position showed off that glorious ass for Bucky, then he was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Which did not mean that Bucky did not take full advantage of the tactic to ogle his boyfriend’s ass.

Finally, Tony shook out his legs and stepped up to the plate. “All right, let’s stop lollygagging around and play this game!” he announced cheerfully. And then, just as Bucky was winding up to roll the ball, he said, “Winner gets to top!”

Well, that… did not go well. Bucky’s aim was completely off. “Ball,” Coulson called.

“Asshole,” Bucky muttered, and from the brilliant, gleaming smile Tony directed his way, it did not go unheard. Steve threw him the ball back and Bucky wound up to roll again. More like bowling than baseball. Really, a stupid game, all things considered.

This time, at least, Tony didn’t say anything, just waited for the pitch. It was Natasha who piped up with, “Ethiopian for dinner?”

Bucky finished the roll. “Yes, please, I’m fuckin’ starving, her--” Tony’s kick hit him in the chest and he scrambled to catch it, but didn’t quite grab it, a fact he was going to blame on metal-slick fingers and that was his story, he was sticking to it. He floundered, captured the ball, rolled, and… “Safe!”

“Come on, Buck, get your head in the game,” Steve yelled, because of course he did.

Bucky whirled and stomped back to the pitcher’s mound. He got there and popped one shiny metal finger in Steve’s direction, which got hoots and cheers from, well, pretty much everyone. Couldn’t say he was shocked, either.

“If you kick that ball at my face again, Clint, I am going to hurt you,” Wanda threatened from outfield.

He didn’t. Clint fucking bunted it, and then Steve overcompensated his throw, blowing past Tony as he went ‘round second base, headed for third.

Clint was fucking singing, that’s what he was doing, too… some song Bucky’d never heard before. “Around third and headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man, anyone can understand, the way I feel--” he crooned.

Bucky caught the ball, went to throw it to Steve to get Tony out, at least, but-- where the hell had Steve gone off to?

Tony touched home and did a little dance that involved entirely too much hip-swinging.

Natasha struck out. Thank Christ.

Bucky went to roll again, and-- something cold and wet splattered against his face. What the-- he peered up. It was evening, and the sky had gotten a lot darker, although he’d missed that as the field’s lights had gone on. And cloudy, apparently.

“It’s rainin’,” Bucky reported.

“Kickball,” Clint intoned, “is a simple game. You throw the ball, you kick the ball, you catch the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sometimes… it rains.”

It started to rain harder. Tony’s tee shirt was sticking to him, obscenely outlining his chest.

“Game called on account of rain,” Coulson said. “Parker’s team wins.”

Steve immediately started to argue that they hadn’t had their last at-base and Coulson held up one hand. “I’m not debating with you, Captain,” he said. “I am calling the game. You lose.”

Ignoring Steve’s ranting, Tony strolled up to Bucky, that smirk on his lips making it clear that he knew exactly what the rain was doing to his clothes. He slid a hand down Bucky’s chest. “Good game, Slugger. Ready to pay up?”

Bucky tugged Tony in for a kiss, hot and wet and dirty. “Play ball,” he said.