#only competition is letter from the refuge

[dashiellqvverty]

crazy how santa fe prologue is the most romantic song in newsies

[communist-manifesto-daily]

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific - Part 17

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But the new order of things, rational enough as compared with earlier conditions, turned out to be by no means absolutely rational. The state based upon reason completely collapsed. Rousseau’s Contrat Social had found its realization in the Reign of Terror, from which the bourgeoisie, who had lost confidence in their own political capacity, had taken refuge first in the corruption of the Directorate, and, finally, under the wing of the Napoleonic despotism. The promised eternal peace was turned into an endless war of conquest. 

The society based upon reason had fared no better. The antagonism between rich and poor, instead of dissolving into general prosperity, had become intensified by the removal of the guild and other privileges, which had to some extent bridged it over, and by the removal of the charitable institutions of the Church. The “freedom of property” from feudal fetters, now veritably accomplished, turned out to be, for the small capitalists and small proprietors, the freedom to sell their small property, crushed under the overmastering competition of the large capitalists and landlords, to these great lords, and thus, as far as the small capitalists and peasant proprietors were concerned, became “freedom from property”. The development of industry upon a capitalistic basis made poverty and misery of the working masses conditions of existence of society. Cash payment became more and more, in Carlyle’s phrase [See Thomas Carlyle, Past and Present, London 1843], the sole nexus between man and man. The number of crimes increased from year to year. Formerly, the feudal vices had openly stalked about in broad daylight; though not eradicated, they were now at any rate thrust into the background. In their stead, the bourgeois vices, hitherto practiced in secret, began to blossom all the more luxuriantly. Trade became to a greater and greater extent cheating. The “fraternity” of the revolutionary motto was realized in the chicanery and rivalries of the battle of competition. Oppression by force was replaced by corruption; the sword, as the first social lever, by gold. The right of the first night was transferred from the feudal lords to the bourgeois manufacturers. Prostitution increased to an extent never heard of. Marriage itself remained, as before, the legally recognized form, the official cloak of prostitution, and, moreover, was supplemented by rich crops of adultery.

In a word, compared with the splendid promises of the philosophers, the social and political institutions born of the “triumph of reason” were bitterly disappointing caricatures. All that was wanting was the men to formulate this disappointment, and they came with the turn of the century. In 1802, Saint-Simon’s Geneva letters appeared; in 1808 appeared Fourier’s first work, although the groundwork of his theory dated from 1799; on January 1, 1800, Robert Owen undertook the direction of New Lanark.

At this time, however, the capitalist mode of production, and with it the antagonism between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, was still very incompletely developed. Modern Industry, which had just arisen in England, was still unknown in France. But Modern Industry develops, on the one hand, the conflicts which make absolutely necessary a revolution in the mode of production, and the doing away with its capitalistic character – conflicts not only between the classes begotten of it, but also between the very productive forces and the forms of exchange created by it. And, on the other hand, it develops, in these very gigantic productive forces, the means of ending these conflicts. If, therefore, about the year 1800, the conflicts arising from the new social order were only just beginning to take shape, this holds still more fully as to the means of ending them. The “have-nothing” masses of Paris, during the Reign of Terror, were able for a moment to gain the mastery, and thus to lead the bourgeois revolution to victory in spite of the bourgeoisie themselves. But, in doing so, they only proved how impossible it was for their domination to last under the conditions then obtaining. The proletariat, which then for the first time evolved itself from these “have-nothing” masses as the nucleus of a new class, as yet quite incapable of independent political action, appeared as an oppressed, suffering order, to whom, in its incapacity to help itself, help could, at best, be brought in from without or down from above.

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[demospectator]

“Chinese Fortune Teller” by Charles Weidner (copyright registered March 26, 1900) [Photo from the Chinese Historical Society of America collection. This fortune-teller has advertised 卦命 (canto: “gwah ming”) as his method of divination.

The Postcard Revolution and Old Chinatown

The first five decades of San Francisco Chinatown's existence fortunately coincided with the evolution of the technology and art of photography, which emerged as a powerful medium for capturing outdoor images of the neighborhood’s culture, built environment, and daily life as well as the faces of pioneer Chinese Americans in studio portraits. Many prints and negatives of such images were destroyed in the city’s earthquake and fire of 1906. Fortunately, many pre-1906 photographs were reproduced in the tourist postcards and cartes de visite. In many instances, the postcard image represents the only surviving image from its photographic source.

“San Francisco. Chinese Fortune Teller, Chinatown” Photograph by Charles Weidner prior to 1906 and replicated in postcard format post-1906 (from the private collection of Wong Yuen-ming).

The American postcard industry traces its beginnings to the Chicago World's Fair of 1893 at which attendees could buy a line of official souvenir picture “postals.” When the federal government changed the postage rate for private cards from two cents to one in May 1898, the postcard industry took off. Historians view the years 1905 to 1915 as the golden age of American postcards, marked by rising demand, easing government restrictions on production, greater consumer purchasing-power, and technological advances in photography and mass printing. Americans mailed billions of postcards during the golden age. Many postcards from this era were never posted but directly acquired by collectors themselves.

Thus, postcards in private collections outside of the 1906 fire zone played a crucial role in preserving the rich photographic legacy of the pre-1906 neighborhood. Tourist postcards and cartes de visite had been instrumental in democratizing access to photographs of old Chinatown. Unlike traditional photographic prints that were often expensive and limited in distribution, mass-produced cards provided an affordable means for people to acquire images of Chinese Americans and the Chinatown community. As a result, a broader audience could appreciate and share in the visual narrative of this historic neighborhood. Thus, tourist postcards served as cultural ambassadors, presenting a visual representation of San Francisco Chinatown to a global audience. In doing so, the visual artifacts served to dispel stereotypes and foster a greater understanding of Chinatown's people.

“Chinese Fortune Teller” c. 1890. Photograph probably by R.J. Waters and from the original archive or collection of dealer T.E. Hecht (now reposing in the collection of the San Francisco Public Library). The image has also been cataloged as “”255 Fortune Teller” in the collection of the Bancroft Library.

The turn of the century photographers in the late 19th and first years of the 20th centuries captured vibrant street scenes, marvels of Chinese decorative arts applied to the exteriors and interiors of the neighborhood’s mostly Italiante buildings, and everyday life. Not surprising, a plethora of cards featuring cute Chinatown children provided viewers a glimpse of the very rare family life of the community, as an alternative to the lurid portrayals of the community as the refuge for homicidal tong gunmen, prostitution, gambling, and opium dens.

Similarly, the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 had essentially ended the industrial competition between Chinese and white labor, including the latter’s often violent agitation. Hence, Chinatown’s sidewalk artisans and craftsmen also proved to be quaint and popular photographic subjects, including the letter writers and fortune tellers on the streets.

“155. Chinese Fortune Teller” Postcard based on a photograph c. 1900 by R.J. Waters (from the private collection of Wong Yuen-ming).

Two examples from the work of photographers Charles Weidner and R.J. Waters, plus the postcard reproductions are presented here.

[childofchrist1983]

The older I get, the harder it is for me to understand younger generations. I can sometimes feel myself looking at younger generations with a bit of scorn and envy, thinking about how things were "back in my day."

In Paul's letter to the Corinthians, he advises to do the exact opposite of what I am feeling towards younger generations. Paul is proud of his devotion to Christ, and he mentions that other people have similar claims of devotion. He realizes that his devotion cannot be doubted by anyone, but finishes the verse by saying that this line of thinking is a hindrance to the Gospel of Christ. If only we all could be as wise and as humble!

I am a very competitive yet sensitive person. If I am doing anything that I am good at, it is easy for my jealousy and ego to unintentionally come into play, viewing others performing the same activity in a negative light while thinking, "I can do that better than them." Do you know the feeling?

Paul has this exact feeling and reacts the same way that I do, but he then realizes that this is not in accordance with the teachings of Jesus Christ. This Bible verse is a good example of how we can all be a bit more tolerant of one another, regardless of how we look, where we are from, what we do or how well we do it. Everyone has their story and God will always listen to it if we go to Him. When we have these envious or belittling thoughts in our mind, the "I can do that better" voice, let it go! This is not what Jesus would have wanted, and thinking it or acting on it would mourn Him and hinder His Gospel Truth. God is so much more patient and forgiving than we are, even though we have sinned so often against Him. Pray that He will forgive us once again, for we are prideful, ignorant, envious and spiteful fools more often than we wish to say. Jesus has shown us the way, if only we would humble ourselves and take the first steps. May Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ to help us to seek Him and follow in His footsteps daily. May He grant us the grace to forgive others who have wronged us, and the humility to seek forgiveness where we have caused strife. We must ask Him to help us grow spiritually in our relationship with Him and strengthen us and the bonds of love that He has given us, so that our unity may glorify and testify to His power and goodness. Seek, follow and trust in the LORD God Almighty always!

As Christians, we choose to keep Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ first in our hearts and lives and all other worldly desires behind us. He extends salvation to everyone, and we want to show the world the freedom, hope and peace they can have in accepting and following Him. May we follow and serve God daily with love, trust, awe and wonder. May Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ strengthen our faith, lift our spirits, protect our hearts, and show us opportunities to help bring others to Him and His Gospel Truth daily. May we do this duty boldly, humbly and faithfully. To God be all the honor and praise and glory!

We must come to Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ with sincere hearts to ask forgiveness and follow Him and His Holy Word and Spirit always. We praise Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the mercy He bestows upon us and we are grateful for His grace and mercy and infinite blessings. By surrendering our hearts and our lives to His will, we see all the blessings He has bestowed upon us. God our refuge and our salvation and our constant provider. We lift our voices to Him in praise for His steadfast love, mercy and understanding. May Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ open our minds and hearts more and more to perceive and embrace Him and His truths. May He help us to find time to pray and read and study the Holy Bible daily and to find power in prayer, praying according to His Holy Word and will. May He help us to come to Him in true repentance and with faith in Him and His grace and merciful nature. May He give us the grace, courage and strength we need to walk with Him and do His will daily. May He teach us to watch our words when we pray to Him and to speak reverently and rightly. May we continually ask God to transform our hearts and make us faithful and humble as we walk with Him daily. We must come to Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ with honest, humble and repentant hearts. We must seek Him and His will and choose to follow Him all the days of our lives. May He help transform our hearts, help us to seek and live for Him above all else and to grow spiritually and build our faith and relationship with Him with each passing day. May He forgive our sinful nature and help us always make Him and our relationship with Him top priority.

As true and born-again Christians, we choose to walk in His righteous path and lead a life that is pleasing to Him. We desire Him and His will above anything else. We desire to walk in accordance with the love and light He has shown to us through His Holy Word and Spirit. We long for a deeper relationship with Him and a deeper fellowship with our brothers and sisters in Christ as well. When we fall into temptation and sin, we must turn to Him for forgiveness, strength and guidance. When believers learn to walk in accordance with God's Holy Word and Spirit, they have deeper fellowship with both God and one another. And the sin that could threaten to destroy that fellowship, if confessed (1 John 1:9), is covered in the blood of Jesus Christ and no longer a barrier between us and God. May we ask Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ to forgive us for any sins we have sinned this day or in days past. May we be faithful to Him and His Holy Word always. May He help us to walk more consistently in the light and to not neglect long to confess and forsake any sins that hinder our walk with Him. May He lead us in the direction He wants us to go so that we may seek and serve Him faithfully. God is holy and almighty and deserving of all praise honor and glory. We rejoice in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, knowing He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). He is the Alpha and the Omega (Revelation 1:8). May our hearts always be filled with thanksgiving and rejoicing. May He help us to praise Him freely and honestly like all believers who came before us. May we live a life that showcases our love and trust in Him and His Holy Word and Spirit as He uses us draw others to Him and His soul-saving Gospel Truth daily. May He continue guide, correct and protect us, so that we continue to grow in Him and not weaken and stray. May we all remain faithful to Him and to this duty and purpose He has called us to. Seek and put your faith and trust in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ and let Him do the rest. May He humble our hearts and help us focus on following and serving Him daily and helping others with joy and happiness. We lift our voices in praise to Him for His love, mercy, peace, faithfulness and grace - For EVERYTHING!

It is vital that we remain rooted in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit and that we live and walk as a beacon of His light and love and share and spread the Gospel Truth daily, so that the lost souls in this world can come to know Him and be saved. The more we focus on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, growing spiritually by building our relationship with Him, leaning on Him and His Holy Word and Spirit, the better off we will be. Thanks to this and our faith in Him, we know that everything will be alright. And we will forever be grateful to Him. As true and born-again Christians, we believe in Him and His Holy Word and we strive daily to walk in His Holy Spirit. We know though our mortal bodies should die, He will raise us up and into new and glorious bodies (The Rapture). We who are truly His and alive at His second coming will never die, and our bodies will be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and so shall we ever be with Him in His Kingdom of Heaven forevermore (1 Corinthians 15:51-52, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). This is one of many promises given to us by God Himself. Thank God for His strength and guidance when we are faced with sin and temptation. Thank Him for His mercy and grace. Through Bible study and prayer, God reveals His wisdom and guides us to see opportunities to grow closer to Him and grow spiritually. He gives us direction to live our lives daily according to His will.

Jesus Christ is the ONLY way to Heaven (John 3:5, 14:6), the ONLY way to salvation (Acts 4:12, Ephesians 2:8-9) and He is the resurrection and the life (John 11:25-26). Jesus Christ the LORD of lords, the KING of kings, the GOD of gods (Deuteronomy 10:17, 1 Timothy 6:15, Revelation 17:14, Revelation 19:16) - He is the Living, Almighty and Everlasting God (Isaiah 9:6, Revelation 1:8, John 3:16, John 3:36, Jeremiah 10:10). There is no other God besides Him (Isaiah 45:5). We MUST humble ourselves before Him, turning our backs on false teachers, false gods and idols and our sinful ways. We MUST repent and turn back to God and recognize who He is and love Him in return for His great love for us. We MUST make God top priority everyday! May we be motivated to spread God's Holy Word and Gospel Truth to all the Earth, knowing that it is the only hope of all those lost in their sins. Let us not hold out a false hope for men to be saved without the Gospel, but instead, strive to do our part to get the Gospel out to a lost and dying world.

Leaning on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit strengthens us and our knowledge and wisdom about God and His Gospel Truth, exposing these imposters. May God help us to seek and lean on Him daily to gain the strength, wisdom and spiritual discernment needed to expose Satan and his imposters who seek to destroy us and God's ultimate Truth. Everyday, we must remember to share Jesus Christ's Gospel Truth with the world and to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Stubborn Like Me (Tony Stark X Teen!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Tony Stark X Teen!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: None

Request: Tony Stark x teen reader. The reader is the second best genius mechanical engineer behind Tony. The reader can basically build anything they can think of. (He has a IQ of 267) One day after a contest the reader school beats Tony old school. Tony tries to recruit the whole team including the reader. The reader says "No I want to build my school up by being the best." (The reader is on their school own debate, robotics, athletic, etc team.) That's when Tony stops by the reader parents house and they make the reader goes to Tony's old school m

Tony wasn’t really one to dwell on his earlier years, or to check in on those back then unless they actually meant a lot to him, and with his messy history, there wasn’t many of those people. However, one thing that he always ended up checking on was his old school. He had a lot of good memories there, and it was his refuge from his toxic homelife with his dad. It was a place where he could be himself, have friends, and where he was able to thrive.   

One of the aspects that he kept up to date on with his old school were their competitions that they reigned supreme in. Since his turn around into a hero, the school often asked him to come, give speeches, be judges for inward competitions and to give out rewards for projects he put funding in. With it being the best school not only in New York but also in all the neighbouring states, he had handed out a lot of rewards and gone to give a lot of speeches. So he was fairly surprised when he found out that his school came second in an mechanical engineer. To a public school. An average public school that had never even passed the initial round before now. It was shocking to everyone, and it wasn’t long until it ended up in the local newspapers. It also brought a lot of light to the winning school- mostly the mystery group that ran and won the championship without breaking a sweat. Tony was one of those people, and he spend an afternoon and night doing his research into the group. Several members had been in the group a few years, not long from graduating, and while smart, clearly hadn’t been the winning force, so he looked at the newer faces to the team. He didn’t have to look far until he stumbled onto you- the newest recruit to the team. 

Y/N L/N, 15 years old, also on the school debate team, Robotics, and also in your school’s sports team, and in each you had gotten yourself an important role by working hard, managing all that in just a year of being in high school, and in that year of you joining these groups, you had boosted their success. In fact, the robotics team were in the middle of a local compeition with some other local schools that could go to the championships, and the debate team were now successful enough to be able to compete as well next year, and your sports team had their first winning streak in quite a while. It all revolved around you.

Tony sent a letter to your family’s address to congratulate you and offer a transfer to the best school in New York- his school, letting the school know of this and why, only to hear back from the school a few weeks later that you hadn’t applied or got in contact with them, and you hadn’t contacted Tony either. He double checked the address was right and that the letter sent, and it had. Unsatisfied, he decided the next action was to reach out to your school, saying he wanted to meet the winning team, and they weren’t gonna turn that down. 

And so here he was, at your school which was a major downgrade to the school he attended many years ago, in a small classroom next to the parking lot which was apparently where your group operated… along with the robotics group. As soon as the group walked into the room to see him, they were all surprised, but in awe to see him… except you. Tony looked right into your eyes, and the look you gave him told him alot. It told him you already knew why he was here, and you weren’t falling for it.

Still, Tony persisted, keeping a smile on his face as he congratulated the team on their success, how he always kept up to date on the competitions and how impressed he was with them. After softening them up, he made his proposition. “So, this place is a bit cramped, and that’s not considering you’re sharing with the Robotics team. Well, I spoke with the school your won against, and they were impressed by your potential, and they want to start a program where your class with have access to the garage they assist at you you’ll have better tools, a larger work place and more vehicles and such to work on. If it works between your two schools then there’s talk about doing it for your other neglected classes, maybe combining your school’s extra-curriculars, and since it’ll be the big guys funding it, that’ll show on your records so you’ll have a better rep when it’s time for you to look into colleges, universities and jobs.” Tony informed you. He watched the group look amongst each other with excited grins at the proposition that was too good to give up. 

“What’s in it for our school? How does it benefit?” You spoke up, your arms crossed, sat on the edge of a desk.

“Other than having students have access to better activities that they won’t need to fund so they can put that little into other things to better the school?” Tony responded, copying your pose but on the teacher’s desk. Your friends noted the silent argument happening between you two, and split to give you both a clear sight of each other, but also allowing them to watch the interaction like a game of tennis. 

“I know the rules and regulations for the competitions for school competitions. If we use the other school’s resources- which by the way is biased because it’s the school you went to and you’ve been funding them essentially ever since- then our school technically can’t compete. We’d have to compete under the name of the other school, which means any trophies, rewards, certificates, and more importantly money that can be spent by the school to improve, would go to that school, not ours. In the larger image, that doesn’t seem fair.” You pointed out. Tony didn’t speak immediately to rebuttal your comment, because honestly he wasn’t expecting it. You pointed out a flaw in his offer that no one would have spotted without prior information- like the fineprint of the competitions rules and regulations. 

“While that is a negative, I believe the positives outweigh it.” Tony reasoned with you. “But that your decision. Please decide amongst yourself and let your principal know your decision.” Tony spoke, before leaving the classroom. 

He heard back the following day from his school that the offer had been accepted. With one problem. You dropped out of the program. If you didn’t remind Tony of himself before, you did now. Stubborn and determined to not give in to something you didn’t agree with, even if it meant self-imploding. It took a few hours of pondering, talking with his teammates and Pepper, before he formed a new strategy, this one being far more personal, and an offer you couldn’t justify turning down or sabotaging, and to ensure you couldn’t just rip up a letter or delete an email to ignore it, he decided to personally show up at your house. Needless to say, when you opened the door and saw him there, he sent you a shit eating grin and your face… oh if looks could kill. However, you kept in any curses for him to turn around and leave you alone, your manners overruled you and you stepped to the side to let him in. He stepped inside, noticing how quiet it was.

“You have an hour until my parents come home. Make it quick.” You answered his silent question, brushing past him to walk deeper into the home, sitting down at the dining table, leaning back and crossing your arms. Tony followed you, keeping his eye contact with you as he came and sat down opposite you.

“I heard about you dropping out of mechanical engineering.” He started. 

“I’ve got several other extra curricular to sparkle up my resume, dropping that one isn’t that big of a deal.” You brushed off. 

“We both know that’s not why you dropped it. You were the brain of that group, the reason they won. Without you they’ll go back to being mediocre and the merging of the schools will be cancelled.” He pointed out. 

“If that means we can claim our own prizes and we can reap the reward for our hard work instead of having to hand it over to a school that doesn’t need it, that’s fine by me.” You retorted, and Tony could feel his frustration bubbling in his chest at your refusal to even consider, before he remembered why he was there.

“I have a new offer for you.” 

“I’m not transferring or doing anything for your little private school.”

“I want to offer you a paid internship.” He told you bluntly. You paused, staring at him for a moment, blinking several times. 

“What?” 

“Fully paid. And you can still go to your school. Since you dropped Engineering, that might clear up some of your busy schedule, and since there’s no major competitions for the next few months, I’m sure your other extracurricular activities won’t sink if you only do every other class. You won’t be the only intern either- I have another bright mind called Peter working for me, but you’ll be working in different roles. I’d like you to be more hands on, right beside me with major projects.” He explained to you. You remained quiet as he spoke, waiting for a catch. Any catch.

“What do I need to sacrifice?” You asked of him. Tony paused his ramblings, looking at you. You were slumped now. Almost defeated. Almost. He could still see the fight in you- the urge to support your school and your peers. 

“…Nothing. You don’t have to sacrifice anything… You clearly love your school, enough to give up on a hobby you’re talented in and give up a chance to go to the best school in the area. I guess it’s because you know you’re the thing keeping all the other extracurricular activities running. Without your success, your school would have to shut them down- and by doing so, those other students lose important notes on their record for college and university.” You didn’t say anything, and that proved to Tony he was right. He leant forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m going to start a new project. One that funds the activities in the smaller schools. That includes yours. If there’s any you’re only doing to keep them running and you don’t enjoy it, you can drop it. It’ll be safe, I promise. All I want from you is your cooperation. You have an amazing mind, kiddo. You’re going to do some amazing things, and I want to give you a boost to the top. We could really do with someone like you with us.” He spoke softly. Your ears perked up as you glanced up at him. 

“Us?” 

“The Avengers. SHIELD. Those are the projects I’m talking about. You’ll be on the payroll. Of course, you won’t be able to tell your folks about what exactly you’re doing, but that’ll just make them more impressed, right? What do you say?” Tony offered, holding out his hand. You stared at it, looking for any loopholes he might have made, but soon finding nothing, you reached out and shook his hand. “Welcome to the team, Brainiac.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my GIF

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[sitp-recs]

hey liv! have you got any good recluse!harry fics? where he fell off after the war and now somehow got draco on his hands? i really like that dynamic, lowkey angry and antisocial harry vs needly and curious draco lol. thanks a lot!

Hi anon! This is such a fantastic trope - I don’t know many fics but these are all gold:

A British Summer by Omi_Ohmy (2012, E, 8.5k)

Ice cream, oh ice cream! Harry is a recluse, but Draco bumps into him on a British Summer's day and is surprised by what he finds.

Hippomancy for Beginners by khalulu (2016, E, 11k)

When Draco desperately insists on becoming a Centaur Liaison, he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, especially with that annoying hero-turned-hermit Harry Potter living right at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

Come Night's Fall by @corvuscrowned (2021, M, 11k)

After Harry disappears from society, Draco finds him living in a secluded cabin on the edges of a small town, harboring a dark secret he’ll do anything to preserve.

Dance by the Light of the Moon by @writcraft (2012, T, 13k)

Harry is miserable and living like a recluse at Grimmauld Place and Draco retired from Wizarding society after his divorce. One day a misdirected owl from Scorpius Malfoy finds its way into Harry's hands.

This Delicious Solitude by Omi_Ohmy (M, 17k)

Draco is sent to investigate Harry’s extraordinary carrots for the Prophet after whispers of cheating rock the world of competitive vegetable cultivation. But how’s he meant to get anywhere when Harry won’t even let him past the garden gate?

Violent Delights by @primaveracerezos (2021, E, 20k)

Draco Malfoy's life should be going very well. He's engaged to a wonderful man and in line for the Head Auror job. He's been made lead investigator on a serial murder case, trying to figure out who is killing off the scum of the wizarding world, one by one.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power. With nowhere to go and a Life-Debt to his mother that Potter insists on repaying, Draco puts himself into the hands of the reclusive Boy Who Lived. Will the bleak corner of Yorkshire where Potter makes his home be another dead end or an unexpected refuge?

All Roads by korlaena and Saulaie (2019, M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out.

Of Wands and Trees by Omi_Ohmy (2018, E, 45k)

All Draco wants to do is be a wandmaker, but to do so he needs to understand the soul of trees. Of course, the only man who might be able to help him is the one man who is more of a mystery to him than any tree.

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by iero0 (2019, E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Harry tries his best to avoid the git—who knows what he's up to anyway?

The Bolthole by aideomai, GallaPlacidia, Tepre (2020, E, 54k)

Harry is a hoarder, Draco is grief-stricken, and both are capable human adults who can definitely spend a month in a cottage in the Cotswolds together without ever talking about the time they slept together in eighth year. Yeah, no, totally.

The Magic Behind the Camera by oldenuf2nb (2021, E, 55k)

Magical Photographer Evan Peverell is an enigma, one magazine assistant editor Draco Malfoy finds fascinating. The 'rock star' photog, with his purple hair streak and assorted piercings, is not remotely Draco's type. And yet there's just something about him…

The Way Down by lettered (2015, T, 65k)

Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama.

The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself) by @potteresque-ire (2018, E, 67k)

In a deserted cottage miles away from Hogsmeade, two young spirits waited for a new owner to call the place home.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (2019, E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world.

Chasing Dragons by @the-sinking-ship (E, 100k)

Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself?

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (2018, E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter.

Bonus: Harry’s not exactly a hermit in these but I think they work too:

Unseen by astolat (2016, M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Voices From The Fog by noeon (2010, E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by @letteredlettered (2013, E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life.

Unseen by Jackvbriefs (T, 47k)

Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

[willow-salix]

This is going to be out of the blue and there's no need for a response to it, but I guess I feel like some of you deserve to get a peek behind my armour.

Facebook just gave me a memory from 7 years ago, showing me an album that I'd rather not see quite honestly, but you know when you're just drawn in even though you know it's against your better judgement? Yep, that was me just now.

The album is full of screenshots of the absolute shit ton of crap that I've had on the Internet over the years.

I was in the RP world for ten years, and in that time I was verbally and mentally attacked a lot, I was mentally abused, I was stalked, I was blamed for things I never did, I was used as a scapegoat for things I never did. I was the victim of unwarranted attacks that had my accounts deleted by fb so that I lost YEARS of writing.

I got my heart broken over and over again by people that claimed tk be my friends, people that claimed to love me but that were all too happy to dump me the second a better option came along. People that I sat up all night with, that I lost sleep over, that I went out of my way to help and support.

Some of them lied to me so throughly that they lied about who they were, where they lived, their job, their gender, their nationality, what other characters /accounts they had and everything else you could think of for over TWO years.

I've had one that claimed to be my best friend, sit on my couch, my actual couch, in my house and lie to my face. Lie to me and his long term partner and mother of his three kids that he wasnt cheating with a cheap bitch he met online (the third person he'd done it with I found out after) I only found out about her when she messaged me to tell me.

I stopped talking to him, after their friends started a smear campaign against me, and even then EVEN THEN, I talked it out and started talking to him again. But he turned it around and started blaming me and guilt tripping me again. So I cut him off. He stalked me. Like messaging my friend, posting things to me (actual letters through the mail) making new accounts to message me, buying new phone sims to call me. This was 6 years ago. He called me at the start of lockdown and left a message on my voicemail.

This man mentally abused me. He'd force me to talk to him when I had a problem and then he'd not like what I said, so he'd go silent and ignore me for up to three days, to the point that I'd worked myself up so much that I was apologising, that I was taking the blame for having feelings, only when he got that would he talk to me.

He was an alcoholic who worked in care if you can believe that, I supported him through him getting sober again, he still did all that to me.

I gave up on role play and let my character, my home, the one place I felt comfortable and safe, up. And I didn't go back for two years. I got talked around by someone, they made promises, I stupidly fell for it.

I then got used to bring their character back and to help them sort out storylines. I was then told they didn't want to work with me anymore because they had too much going on in their personal life, they blocked me and I then got screenshots that that had another writing partner already.

That broke me. That broke me and fandom and people and everything really.

I vowed never to go back.

Then I stumbled upon you lot. And I told myself not to get involved, not to start talking to anyone, not to start trusting again. Now look! Now bloody look!

I'm what... 500k + in a story that was never meant to be, I'm actually writing and collabing with people again and I have a character that I adore and feel just as comfortable with... And that is fucking scary.

It's sooooo scary. Like terrifying scary to me.

Because I'm having to trust again. Selene is like public property now, and I love how much everyone has accepted and adopted her and how they use her and write her too, that warms this cold, dead, suspicious heart of mine.

Because I can honestly say that Selene and John saved me and my sanity.

I am quite a sociable person, I love to chat to people and if I'm your friend I will go out of my way to do my best for you, to be there for you and to support you in every way I can. But I know I can be used and I dotn always see the bad in people. So I cut myself off and refused to allow myself to make friends again.

I was writing my novels and that was it. No interaction, no fun really. Then this loud mouthed witch blazed into my head, took one look at the spaceman and said "that one, he's mine, wrap him up I'll take him to go" and here she is.

They made writing fun again, they made it spontaneous and exciting, I suddenly had ideas again, people to talk to about the characters I love and it was hard. Because it was also good.

I had to trust the process, trust Selene.

But I'm also so wary. I'm wary that I'm gonna piss people off, that I'm going to annoy people with her and that people hate her. I know people don't like OCs' and I get major anxiety about that.

I've never had this amount of anxiety over stories before, never. Not my rp, not my novels, not the ones I did for class or competitions, nothing. This is singularly the most stressful writing I've ever done. Because these boys, they mean the world to me, they always have. They have always been my happy place since I was 5/6, they have always been my heart and home.

The problems I had in rp made me not like the books that I loved, the fandom I was in, because of peoples interpretations of the characters, the way they played them and the fact that they were so nasty to me. And I really really don't want that to happen here.

A few weeks ago I noticed that an account had bene set up that was clearly a piss take of me, of this account. And all the old fears and anxiety came rushing back. I instantly went running to Squiddy and Olliepig and basically tumbled around the group chat in a mess for a few minutes before I calmed down and realised what was going on and had a guess at who it could be.

But it's scary. Because I've been stalked, I've been badmouthed, I've had people make fake accounts of me to cause trouble, and it weighs on me.

Willow Salix is my author name, I had to choose that because my Pagan name (which I was writing under and still do on ff and a03) was too well known and my stalkers were reporting it every time I made a new account.

I had to come to love this name, come to see it as myself (willow is my actual real name btw) and feel comfortable with it. It's taken a long time, I've built my brand from it. I have five novels out under it. And to think of someone having an account with even a parody of that name gave me all sorts of chills.

I'm OK now, but yeah. Fun times.

So I guess... I just want people to talk to me. And I don't mean shine by ego lol, I mean that if I ever do anything to piss you off. If I ever say anything you don't like. If I ever annoy you with Selene or anything at all, PLEASE just come and talk to me.

I might put on a tough mask, and in general I am pretty hardy, but I'm a typical cancerian, hard outer shell, squishy inside.

Selene is my sanity in a home life that is far from easy, I won't go into major details but disabled husband, I'm a full time carer, he's majorly depressed and it's just... Yeah. Anyway, she's my refuge, she's my escape right now.

Actually making a side blog for her took so much guts, to allow her free rein to speak and act is scary as heck for me. Because I've been there and vowed to never go back.

The only good thing I took out of all my years of rp, apart from being able to make up a story pretty much on the spot, spontaneous replies, dialogue skills and character development, is my best friend in all the world @endellionaeternus who has seen it all and stuck by me through it all.

I have no real idea why I just typed all this, I guess I needed people to see where I'm coming from, and why Selene exists.

Yeah...

[kell-be-belle]

To You, My Dearest of Dear Hearts

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Letter Writing 

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: General

Content Warnings: None

Summary:  While seperated during the winter months, Jaskier writes Geralt a letter. Just like his songs, Jaskier pours himself into his letters and Geralt takes time to reflect on his love for the bard.

Ao3

Geralt knows when a letter has arrived. The scent of Jaskier lingered in the fibers and threads of nearly all he owned after decades of travel together, but whenever a letter arrived it was renewed. Almond blossoms and orange peels; warm and sweet with just the subtlest bite. It was alarmingly authentic to Jaskier’s nature, so much so that it often made Geralt laugh when he thought of it. The bard would chide him, prodding playfully at his cheek and demanding he not keep his humors to himself. Geralt would refuse to share and it frequently led to them tussling like school boys. It then ended in one of two ways; fits of gasping laughter or the heated crush of their mouths against one another’s.   

The scent of Jaskier hits Geralt as he is climbing the stairs, breathing warmth into his chilled hands as he returns from his morning training. His diminished heart quickens in his chest. Shudders back into life. Geralt climbs the stairs with renewed vigor, taking them two at a time in the great length of his stride. He throws himself through the threshold, shoves the door closed behind him. He has his desk pushed along the room’s one, large window to enable him both the best light and the best view of the crumbling ruins of Kaer Morhen. Atop the desk sits an unassuming rosewood box. It’s only decoration, a brass clasp encircled by delicately carved wildflowers. His fingers fumble in his haste to unfasten the latch. 

Sitting inside the box, fresh and crisp and still warmed by sealing wax is an envelope. His name is scrawled on its face in a series of sweeping loops and softened corners. Never once had Geralt thought his name could be beautiful, but in Jaskier’s elegant hand it very nearly is. Geralt brings the envelope to his nose and breathes long and deep. The scent of ink and wax is fresh, but not enough to overpower Jaskier’s bittersweet bouquet. In fact, it only adds to it. Jaskier writes as though his life were dependent on it and Geralt can often smell ink on his fingertips when they card through his hair or brush his cheek. 

Geralt is instantly transported to a glen in Toussaint. Wine sits deep and bitter on the back of his tongue and his cheeks are flush with it. Jaskier is beside him on the blanket they have brought, tongue peeking between his lips in the most tempting fashion as he scrawls feverishly into his notebook. Geralt snorts as the bard unwittingly brushes a stained thumb under his nose, effectively creating a mustache. He continues to snicker over it much to Jaskier’s dismay. Geralt doesn’t tell him for at least an hour.

The wax of the seal is still somewhat pliant as he wedges his fingers beneath it. Jaskier must have only just written it and placed it in the box. It was a curious item, this box. It had been a gift from Yennefer, which was as dubious an event as anything. She bestowed upon Jaskier a second, identical box. The bard had looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head. A gift, she said, to keep more easily in touch. Simply place a letter into one box and have it appear inside its twin. The post was unreliable even in the most travseable of locations and Kaer Morhen was not easy to locate even for the witchers who called it home. So lo and behold, a gift to make their partings easier and their reunions not so... shamelessly passionate.

The wax seal parts easily under Geralt’s ministrations. Tucked carefully inside the envelope are no less than six pages of text all written in Jaskier’s tight hand. Jaskier’s thoughts pour onto the page much like they do from his mouth; continuously and unabashedly. Geralt will get to his musings on his latest lectures and his gripes with his fellow professors, but first he takes a minute to admire the heading. 

My Dearest Heart, it read.  

Jaskier was prone to the overuse of words of affection. Pet names in particular. He threw them around with all the care and enthusiasm of a handful of flower petals thrown in the path of a bride. The barmaids were always ‘darling’, the stableboys always ‘handsome’, and the children always ‘sweeting’. Jaskier loved frequently and forcefully and afforded it to nearly everyone he met. But this, this one term of endearment… my dearest heart… this was Geralt’s alone. He had never once heard Jaskier refer to any other person by it. Not once in nearly twenty years. It put warmth in his cheeks like the wine in Toussaint. It reminds of the day he had first heard him say it. 

They had been on the path between one town in the next; places whose names he had forgotten, but whose impressions remained in his memory like flowers between pages. It had begun to rain rather suddenly and heavily. Jaskier had squawked about the fate of his freshly tailored doublet. It was his first time wearing it and now quite possibly his last. Geralt had laughed and Jaskier had shoved him. Geralt shoved him back, his smile rueful. Jaskier gave chase though Geralt quickly outpaced him. They dissolved into shouts and taunts. Jaskier was quicker than Geralt gave him credit for. Decades of travel made for sturdy legs. A living made off song made for durable lungs. Still, by the time he caught Geralt they had both been thoroughly soaked through. Jaskier looked up with bright, glittering eyes. He beamed as he reached up and tucked a stringy lock of Geralt’s damp hair from his face. “You shan’t ever be rid of me.” He declared. “I shall always catch up, my dearest heart.” And Geralt felt his heart struck, impaled by the white hot arrow of love. He kissed Jaskier passionately in the continuing downpour and they stayed there for a long time. Jaskier had caught a cold afterwards and Geralt had felt horrible. Jaskier insisted it had been worth it.  

Geralt continued on with the letter. It appeared as though Jaskier’s fellow troubadour and sworn archnemesis, Valdo Marx, has also been invited for a winter residency within the hallowed halls of Oxenfurt University. Jaskier had dedicated an entire page to a slew of colorfully phrased insults that would make even the saltiest of sailors blush. Despite his clear dislike for the man, the phantom of jealousy still panged in the deepest chambers of Geralt’s heart. 

Jaskier was participating in a singing competition. Geralt could not remember which one. They all blurred together after a while like freshly dyed cloth abandoned on the line in a sudden summer rain. Both Jaskier and Valdo had competed and both were rewarded with thunderous applause, but in the end Jaskier proved himself the superior chanteur. Afterwards, the lot of them had settled in a tavern to celebrate with copious amounts of ale. Jaskier and Valdo had quipped back and forth with one another like squabbling magpies. Though they did not like each other, they hung about each other with such an easy familiarity. Jaskier, with an arm around Valdo’s shoulders and Valdo a hand on Jaskier’s knee. Their faces were flushed bright pink from the ale and their heads pressed together as they laughed uproariously about something or other. Geralt had felt his stomach twist. The ale in his mouth turned sour. He stood from the table abruptly and pushed his way between the other revelers, seeking refuge in the still air of the night. He had sucked down two breaths of cool air before Jaskier was beside him. The light cast from the open windows of the tavern danced in the deep blue of his eyes like the striking of flint. Jaskier had taken Geralt’s hands within his own and pressed tender kisses into every crack, every callous, every scar. “You. Only you. Only ever you.” He crooned between each touch of his lips until Geralt unfurled and drew the bard against him. He did not let go for a long time.

Geralt continues to read. Jaskier has settled in comfortably for the winter. His students this term are passionate and engaging and often request regalings of his adventures with the mighty White Wolf at the end of every lesson. Jaskier declares that he is more than happy to oblige though it does make him miss Geralt terribly. He asks Geralt to convey his love to Eskel and Lambert and Vesemir; asks that they not be too disappointed in his absence this year. He has not forgotten the fifty crowns that Lambert owes him from the previous winter’s gwent tournament and still aims to collect. Geralt laughs. He cannot wait to see the look on Lambert’s face when he relays the message.    

At the bottom of the letter sits Jaskier’s ostentatious signature. On something more formal he would use his full name and title, but here within these pages he is simply Jaskier. He is the curious, bright eyed creature who had looked upon the reviled witcher and offered his hand without fear, without pretence. He is the relentless spirit who followed Geralt to the edges of the world with spring in step and song in heart. He is the temperate saint who had remained at Geralt's side and loved him hard and fierce through every bright day and every black night. 

Geralt runs the tip of his finger over the sweeping curve of the ‘J’ and follows the line of the pen until it rolls from the tail of the ‘r’. He then brings the finger to his lips, closes his eyes and breathes in deep; longing for the moment when he can kiss Jaskier once again. Geralt reads the letter through twice more before he feels satiated enough to go about the rest of his day. He tucks the envelope under his pillow so that when he lays himself to sleep that night, he can drink in the bittersweet scent of his love and dream of being in his arms.

[earthfluuke]

MarkKitYu from Gen Y. “I promise I didn’t steal your hoodie—hey, give it back!” Because Yu would TOTALLY steal both their hoodies and act like he did NOTHING WRONG. (Which is true. 1000000%.)

MarkKitYu + “I promise I didn’t steal your hoodie – hey, give it back!”

“Yu! Get back here!” Kit hears drift down the hallway from the bedroom to the kitchen. Ever since they had moved into a larger space that more appropriately accommodated all three of their individual needs, it’s been easier to find the privacy needed to get his work done. That is, when his boyfriends aren’t acting like absolute children.

Yu scurries into the room, seeking refuge behind Kit’s chair. ‘Two against one is harder to deny’ is something he’s heard Yu say often (typically followed by ‘especially when the two are so cute’), and it’s the obvious tactic he’s chosen to use against a disgruntled Mark.

Following after him, he stops at the opposite end of the table, single hand raised palm side up. “Yu,” he says. “Come on, give it to me.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, feigning innocence as he ducks further behind Kit. Twisting in his chair to get a better idea of the conflict, he sees Yu’s hands behind his back, clearly hiding something that he doesn’t want Mark to find. “It’s probably buried in the back of one of your drawers. You should really organize those; they’re a mess.”

Advancing forward, he catches up to Yu before he can dart away. Held in place by a hand around his upper arm, he squirms in Mark’s grip, struggling to escape while spilling out even more excuses. “Mark, I promise I didn’t steal your hoodie – hey, give it back!”

From behind Yu’s back, Mark pulls out a pale grey hoodie, the black lettering spattered across the chest spelling out the name of their university. By the length of the sleeves, Kit can tell which of his boyfriend’s it belongs to, and it most definitely isn’t his smallest. That alone gives him enough context to piece the situation together.

Finding Yu in either of their clothing isn’t unusual. It’s something he does often, picking a shirt off the top of the laundry pile and slipping it on, regardless of who it belongs to. While tame enough, he decided at one point it wasn’t enough.

And thus, the hoarding began. More than once, Kit had thought he misplaced a sweatshirt, only to stumble upon it a few days later wrapped around Yu as he napped on the couch. It’s a sweet little quirk that Kit has grown fond of. Mark, however, doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.

Perhaps it has something to do with their long history as best friends. That’s always made their dynamic different than the ones between either of them and him. Years of bickering doesn’t suddenly stop when romantic feelings are thrown into the mix. Though, he supposes, it does change the subjects of said bickering to things such as sweatshirt hoarding.

“I’m not sure why you’re so upset,” Kit finally interjects, putting himself in the middle of them. “Yu stealing our clothes isn’t new. Pretty sure the only reason he got me that sweater for my birthday was so he could take it.”

Two arms wrapping around his neck from behind, Yu’s cheek nuzzles against his in silent, physical praise. From the corner of his eye, he can see him pursing his bottom lip up at Mark, undeniable as ever.

“See? P’Kit doesn’t have a problem with me wearing his clothes,” he says. He’s in no way pitting them against each other or attempting to make a point of which boyfriend he considers superior that day. No such competition exists between the three of them; otherwise, the relationship as a whole wouldn’t work. Instead, this is Yu pulling his cute card, trying to get his way while simultaneously being a brat.

“I don’t care if you wear my clothes,” he says. “I care that you hide them so that we can’t find them. Just ask, you baby; it’s not like I’d say no.” Looking down at the subject of their argument, he fists the sweatshirt and holds it out towards him. “Why did you want this one anyway? You got the same one at the freshmen welcome event last year.”

Ducking his head against Kit’s shoulder, he buries his mouth into the fabric of his shirt as he mumbles, “They’re different. That one is yours.”

In a matter of seconds, any gripe Mark had with him wiped away to reveal his usual, stupidly fond smile. Kit can see him physically melt as he steps around the table to pull Yu off of him and into his arms. Nosing his way up the length of his jaw, he leaves kisses along his way as he murmurs, “You’re too cute for your own good, you know that? Why didn’t you just say so? You can have all of my sweatshirts.”

Yu giggles, and that’s a clear sign that everything in the world is right again. With a shake of his head and a sigh that holds more affection than he’d ever dare admit, he pulls his laptop back towards him, typing away to the sounds of sweet nothings being pressed into skin and lips finding their way to just the right places. Adorable as the two of them are, they’re still idiots. But they’re his, and that’s just the way he likes it.  

[w-h-4-t]

Oh Sweet Maker, there’s two of them

Basically @mfmoonbear​ has an OC (an elf mage named Yelisavita Lavellan) and so do I (an Qunari elf mage named Fen’Harel Adaar). Now they’re here together in a story. A n g e r y co-Inquisitor AU here. Rivalry +100.

They get along. Sometimes.

LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

***

Due to its Andrastian nature, Skyhold was more than just a battle fortress. It was also a tribute to the Maker; the garden was often peaceful as the Chantry mothers swung censures while muttering the Chant of Light. However, Skyhold was also a refuge for all kind of people, including the polytheists of the Dales. 

“DIRTHAMEN’S SHADOWY NUTSACK WHAT THE FUCK”

One such example rang through the courtyard as four pairs of feet kicked up dust mid-run. There was a race happening, as usual, between two very competitive people, both dubbed Inquisitor. Yelisavita and Fen’Harel got along well enough at first. Though their time together in Haven was drought with cat fighting they grew to mutually respect each other.

That, however, did nothing to stop their competitive nature. 

It all started as a simple ‘race you to the War Room’ which was turning into an all-out mage battle royale. Both Harel and Yel made their way up the steps leading to the Main Hall, shoving each other before Harel caught the small elf in a headlock.

“YOU CHEATING BASTARD!” she screamed, making her face as red as her Valaslin, “LET ME GO!!!”

Harel switched her tactic, looping her arms around Yel before throwing her from the steps, “Make a barrier this time else you’ll get some bad bruises!” 

Giggling like an ass, Harel continued up the stairs, hopping over several steps at a time before she felt something cold take hold of her legs. At once, the Qunari elf listed forward before catching herself, attempting to yank her legs from its new icy prison.

“You little fuckin-” Harel started.

“Fucking what? Cheater? I didn’t cheat first, remember?” Yel interjected with a smile as she jogged back up the steps, taking her time before stopping by Harel, “Aw is the Dread Wolf stuck? Do you need help puppy?”

A menacing stare shot from the half-Qunari as her body began shaking. Soon enough, the ice began hissing as little wisps of flames licked out from Harel’s skin, eating away the ice.

“I’m a mage too, you fuck,” Harel growled

Yel simply smiled, coating her hand in a slick sheet of ice before reaching up to pat the angry co-Inquisitor’s cheek, “Uh-huh, I see that. Have fun with that ice, it’s extra reinforced for shitheads like you.”

Flinching at the cold touch, Harel pulled back before focusing to burn the ice away; Yel jogged up the stairs, only turning around for one second to mouth I win.

Oh that fucking does it.

Summoning every drop of magic in her bones, Harel blasted the ice chunks away, scaring quite a few people and earning a far away cheer from someone in particular.

“BEAT HER ASS!!!!” Sera yelled from the tavern rooftop, “SORRY YEL BUT I’M ROOTIN’ FER THE TALL ONE!!!”

Hearing the aftermath, Yel turned around slowly, green eyes shining with surprise. Harel shook the chips of ice from her feet before giving her signature wide-eyed, wide grin. 

“You heard her,” Harel said as she began clomping up the stairs, “I’m gonna beat YOUR ASSSSSSSS!!!!”

Now,  Yelisavita was a powerful and highly dangerous mage. She survived a great deal of trauma and death. Crawling out of Haven’s ruins, she proved she was indeed walking in the Maker’s Light despite being an Alienage elf. 

In that moment, however, Yel was a fennec in the eyes of a hyena. One would think she’d be careful now that she’d angered the other mage.

“Says the idiot caught in a simple ice spell.” Yel antagonized before leaping away, breaking into a sprint. 

Summoning another bout of magic, Harel brought forth ice, Faade Stepping in a blue blur past the stairs and into the Main Hall. Unfortunately for Harel’s dumbass, Yel had caught on, Fade Stepping in tandem past her. 

Varric had to hold down his many Merchant’ Guild letters as the two flew past, his hands gripping the many pages tightly, “HEY! Can’t a dwarf do some paper mache in peace?”

Back to shoving each other, Harel and Yel scrapped with Yel’s hands around Harel’s horns and Harel’s own trying to push the elf away.

“NO!” they shouted together at Varric, on the same page for once.

The black bones of Harel’s horns began to smoke as Yel funnelled fire into her hands.

‘YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Harel said before finally pushing her off, “Did you just try to burn off my fucking horns??!!!”

Harel in turn pushed the office doors open, noticing the absence at the desk before breaking into a sprint. Kicking in the office exit, Harel opened the door just in time to see Yel cracking the War Room entry open. 

Using the opportunity, Yel took off once more, diving through the Ambassador’s office towards the War Room.

“GET BACK HERE!!!!”

Instead of saying some crude quip, Harel continued running, pulling magic from her body once more to Fade Step, meeting Yel halfway as she flew forward in a blue streak. The Alienage elf turned back at the last second, her green eyes once again wide in surprise as Harel leapt forward, grabbing Yel and sending them both tumbling through the door. They rolled, pulling each other’s hair and scrabbling like wet cats before someone cleared their throat.

“Good day, Inquisitors,” Cullen said, raising his voice to cut off the tail end of their argument, “I see everyone is in high spirits.”

For a moment, the two stayed the way they were with Yel’s hands around Harel’s throat and Harel’s hand pushing Yel’s face back. 

Releasing her grip, Yel pushed Harel’s face back, shoving her into the ground before getting up. She gave a great smile as she dusted herself off, moving to take her place at the War Table. 

“Good day, Commander,” she said with a smile, a light blush painting pink shades around her Valaslin. 

Cullen smiled back, gripping the pommel of his sword before looking away, also blushing just a bit.

“FUCKIN-” Harel shouted as she moved off the ground, interrupting what was supposed to be a lovely moment, “I will put my foot so far up your a-”

Another throat cleared, this time, from the very end of the War Table. 

“Harel,” Josephine assuaged, “I will kindly ask that you show a modicum of decorum. Thank you.”

Scrunching up her face, Harel looked between Yel and Josephine, at first settling on the elf’s smug grin before staring at the lovely Antivan. 

“Lucky little fuck,” Harel muttered as she took her place next to Yel, “Damn fuckin lucky that Josie’s here or else I’d-”

“You’d what? Cry at me, wolf?” Yel replied, her smug grin only growing wider.

And once again, the flames of rivalry grew, fanning into an inferno as static crackled in Harel’s palms and fire spun around Yel’s body. 

“YOU ARE NOT CHILDREN” Leliana shouted, clapping her hands, her eyes glistening like vicious sapphires, “So for Andraste’s sake, stop fighting like infants! Behave yourself!”

Yel and Harel differed in many ways but there was one thing they agreed on. Leliana was scary and when that Orlesian had enough of their shit, it was time to stand straight, shut up and do their job.

“E-emerald Graves,” Harel stuttered, looking at Yel, “Thinking we could go to the Graves to do...do that thing…”

Yel nodded before staring at the map, trying her best not to look up at Leliana, “We should go to the Hissing Waste’s actually but sure….sure….The Graves sounds...important too.” 

At the opposite end of the table, Josephine sidled up to Cullen, finishing the last flourish of her letter before whispering, “ Our paramours continue to be interesting, do they not?” she dips the quill in ink, writing another line, “However, it would be preferable if they did not fight so much. It is indeed troubling for our reputation when they scrap in the public eye.”

Cullen sighs as he looks at Yel, watching her brush back a strand of strawberry blonde hair before pushing a map marker away from Harel’s hand, “ They’re not so bad, Ambassador. My sisters and I fought in a similar way, but because we hated each other. I think they’ll be fine.”

Turning away from her clipboard, Josephine looked at Harel who continued trying to pick up the map marker, only to have it shoved away, “Perhaps you are correct. Maybe they are growing to be friends.”

“IF YOU PUSH THAT MARKER ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR ON ANDRUIL’S SWEATY TIT’S I’LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!!!!”

“Oh, you want to lose again, pup? Don’t go crying to your prissy little bedbuddy -I mean no disrespect Ambassador- ” Yel stops for a moment, looking at Josephine before turning to Harel once more, “when I tan your hide faster than you can say Mythal.”

“Inquisitor-” Cullen starts before Harel shoots a glare at him.

“Don’t even try it, Curly!” 

“DON’T TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!” Yel shouts back, giving the taller half-elf a shove.

And once more, a fight broke out in the War Room as all three Advisors watched the pair roll around on the floor. One would say they were akin to a wolf and a lioness fighting when in fact they were just two aggressive nugs duking it out.

Today was just one of those days where they didn’t get along more than usual. Hopefully, soon they’d be back to some kind of mutual idiocy with Yel on Harel’s shoulders, steering the half-Qunari around by the horns before they’d both fall down some hill.  

Josephine and Cullen, though different in many aspects both thought the same thing as they watched their other halves fight.

Maker help me and my competitive girlfriend. 

[linenwrites]

Notes

It has been a long three months since they last spoke. Since Severus had called her a Mudblood in front of their whole year. Shame and guilt still plague him but maybe, now that they have returned for their sixth year, he can find a way to make her talk to him once more. 

In typical Slughorn fashion, their N.E.W.T. potion class starts with a competition to make the Draught of Living Death. Can Severus pull out enough tricks to kill the feud between himself and Lily?

____________________________________

"For the record," a soft female voice drifted over to him above the normal clatter of breakfast in the Great Hall, "I think it looks ridiculous."

Severus looked up in enough time to watch as a raven haired girl, possibly named Abigail, batted Lily's hand away. Lily had been twining her fingers through the long bangs that fell into Abigail's face, the strands having been dyed bright pink.

"You're just jealous, Lil," Abigail started, a bright smile on her face, "because you're parents would never let you."

He heard her sigh as she walked past where he sat at the Slytherin table, caught the wistful expression on her face.

"True."

Severus felt a piece of him shudder.

She hadn't even looked at him. 

The two girls continued on and he turned back to his breakfast only to find that his appetite had suddenly vanished. He didn't know why he had expected anything different but he felt his stomach falling with his mood. 

The silence had stretched on and on over the summer months. Severus had written her through muggle post and by owl  but, when the letters remained unanswered, he had shown up at her front door. He had prepared himself for Petunia having grown used to her scorn and thinly veiled jealousy over the years. What Severus had not expected was Mr. Evans to open the door, Mrs. Evans behind him in the hallway, both of their faces lined with anger. They had remained polite, as always, but told him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome. He could still hear the slam of the door weeks later. 

For three long months, he had endured his father's taunts and his mother's tears, clinging to the hope that things would be different once they returned to Hogwarts.

Apparently, though, nothing had changed.

"Would you look at that!" Avery exclaimed, "We got a free period now!" 

Severus turned to his friend who was pouring over their schedule for the year. Slughorn had been round a few minutes ago to deliver them to the new sixth years. 

"I'm jealous, I wish I could go back to bed." Mulciber, who was one year their junior, added. His words were punctuated by a yawn. 

Despite his mood, Severus couldn't stop his lips twisting into a slight smile. "Stop drooling over Bella and maybe you'll get a good nights sleep for once this year." 

His eyes glanced over at the fourth year sitting at the opposite end of the table, her dark hair as wild and unruly as the girl beneath it. 

"Says the pricks still pining after the same Mudblood since his first year." Mulciber muttered, eyes flicking to where Lily had just disappeared.

Anger coursed through Severus, causing his blood to pulse through his veins. He opened his mouth and he prepared to curse his friend, unsure if it would be it magical or in words alone, when he felt a warm hand fall on his shoulder.

"Are you still planning on coming by the potions room early today, my boy?" Severus turned, knowing it was Slughorn before his eyes met the head of his house.

"Yes, sir." Severus said, his ears still pink with rage.

"Brilliant, brilliant." Slughorn muttered, eyes skirting around the Great Hall. "By chance, do you know if Miss Evans will be joining you this morning?"

Severus felt Avery and Mulciber's stare, the weight heavy on him as he fought to keep his cool, indifferent tone. 

"No, nor do I care." He bit out. 

Slughorn's eyebrows furrowed.  "My dear boy, there is no need for such hostility just because she scored higher than you in your OWLs."

Sev felt his stomach sink. He hadn't known she had beaten his score. 

"You're right, Professor." He ground out, his ears practically burning as Mulciber snickered. 

There was a soft thud and then Mulciber let out a soft groan. Avery had undoubtedly kicked Mulciber in the shin. 

Severus knew Slughorn had no malice in his words, simply bringing up the longstanding bet he and Lily had been waging against one another since their first year but his words still stung. That pain was now laced with a new sort of shame though, overwhelmingly, one word still clanged around his head. 

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

To his credit, Slughorn looked mildly embarrassed for once in his life. Perhaps, Severus thought bitterly, you finally realized it is inappropriate to discuss test scores with other students?

"Yes, well," Slughorn cleared his throat, "I'll be in my office till our class after lunch. Preparing for the New Term party and what not. Which reminds me.." Slughorn pulled a piece of decorated parchment out of the front pocket of his robe, the details for the first meeting of the 'Slug Club' written in a perfect, looping script. 

Severus nodded in confirmation as he read over the details. Mulciber piped up, "Let me know if you need any help, professor." 

Slughorn's eyes glanced over Mulciber, showing him as much interest as he would one of the countless threadbare chairs in the library.

It was petty, because Sev usually considered Mulciber a friend even with the tension that had hung over them throughout breakfast, but his chest swelled with pleasure at the look of defeat and longing in Mulciber's eyes as he watched Slughorn exit the Great Hall.

Severus snickered. 

"Don't look so smug. It wasn't too long ago that he was calling you Sylvester."

Sev shrugged, keeping that well practiced mask of indifference plastered on his face as he stood. He wouldn't give Mulciber the satisfaction to know that a fresh wave of shame was crashing over him at the reminder. Instead, he waggled the piece of parchment, the silver embossment glittering in the candlelight, "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Mulciber." 

"Are you really going down to the dungeons?" Avery asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

Severus nodded, "Yeah, he wasn't joking about my potions score. I got an O but I know I can do better." 

Avery shook his head but didn't press the matter further so Severus made his way down to the potions dungeon. 

Years ago, he would have relaxed the moment he entered the space, letting the smell of various ingredients and the remnants of finished potions assault his nostrils. This place had been a safe haven for him, a refuge from the chaos and insanity that was Hogwarts. Here, he could hide amid the cauldrons but he had never been alone.

No.

This had been a place for he and Lily. No matter how different they seemed on the outside, the two of them had solidified their friendship amongst the simmering potions. 

She always looked so beautiful.

His heart skipped a beat as he thought of the wisps of her hair falling loose from her ponytail as she sliced ingredients or the way her face, shining with sweat, would light up in awe as a potion would subtly change with each stir.

Before her, Severus had never thought of potions as being magical. He had thought it was just glorified cooking until he had heard her speak. Her words were more magical than anything, anything, that came out of one of these cauldrons. He knew that nothing would ever compare to the way her green eyes would spark in excitement and wonder as she discussed how subtle changes could strengthen or destroy the potions integrity and stability completely. Sev rolled his neck. He had to get to work if he expected to make any headway before their first lesson.

Hours later, Severus stood beaming at his text book.

He had made mistakes. The skin on his left forearm was still raw from the green flames that had erupted from the black potion as he put too much Valerian root in. But still, he had made progress that he was proud of. 

Other students filed in.

Avery slid into the seat next to him and handed him a sandwich as a greeting.

Sev's eyes went wide and he began to take large bites.

"Thanks." He managed between mouthfuls.

Avery just chuckled. "I figured you'd be hungry. You barely touched your breakfast and being down here through lunch..."

Avery trailed off when Lily entered, his eyes narrowing at her and Potter. Sev was less than pleased to see that she didn't look all that annoyed by his presence. In fact, she almost looked upset when he didn't take the seat on the bench next to her. 

He watched as she turned to Abigal once more, a faint flush on her cheeks.

Mercifully, Slughorn bounded into the room. 

"Welcome, welcome, to the first course of your N.E.W.T. potions. I'm not going to waste your time. Scales, cauldrons, and books out! Turn to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We are making the Draught of Living Death. Best one gets fifty points to their house."

They all stared at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Time's already started!" He exclaimed. 

Everyone started moving at once, chairs scraping against the stone floor as they all rushed to get ingredients.

Severus was feeling smug, alright. 

He had gotten a tip from one of the seventh years that Slughorn always started this course out with the Draught of Living Death and a 'friendly' competition. Severus began to work on his ingredients, tipping things in and stirring as called for. Nearly forty minutes had passed and, by the random updates being shouted out by Slughorn, he and Lily were neck and neck. When he got to the velarian root, he pulled out a silver knife and pressed it along the side. He heard a soft chuckle from beside him as Avery watched the shriveled thing produce more juice than seemed reasonable. 

"You're something else, Sev. Share your notes with me once this is done, yeah?" "Always." Severus said with a wink. 

Severus scooped up the juice and carefully poured it into the cauldron. The effect was immediate. 

The potion, which had just been black as night, turned a lovely shade of lilac. "Oh-ho!" Slughorn shouted, "Looks like Mr. Snape is the furthest along now!" 

He couldn't help himself, he looked over towards Lily and met her gaze. She scowled before turning back to her own cauldron. 

Severus knew he should get back to work but his eyes were fixed on her. She had already added in the velarian root juice and had begun to stir. He watched intently as she stirred seven times counterclockwise. There was a slight pause and he watched as she straightened her shoulders. She stirred once clockwise.

Nothing exploded.

Lily began to stir faster, seven counterclockwise, one clockwise.

Severus jotted down the note in his textbook before even trying it himself. Seven was a magical number, after all, and the two of them had found that it either lead to utter chaos or improved results in potion making. There was no in between, though. 

If the Draught of Living Death was going to have a bad reaction to the clockwise stir, it would have already happened.

He repeated the motion, seven counterclockwise stirs, one clockwise. The potion turned from lilac to pale pink. 

Severus beamed. 

"Times up!" Slughorn shouted. 

He walked around from cauldron to cauldron, shaking his head with a laugh once he finished. 

With a wave of his wand, both Severus and Lily's cauldrons floated to the front of the room. The whole class remained silent as Slughorn looked between them.

"Perfect, perfect as always you two." He beamed at them both. "I did say I would decide on a winner and, this time, I have to go with Severus. The coloring in both is textbook but Mr. Snape's has the most incredible iridescent quality. Frankly, I don't think I have ever seen it done quite so well in my life. Fifty points to Slytherin!"

Avery clapped him on the back while the other Slytherin's burst into applause. He was still being congratulated as they filed out of the dungeon classroom. Severus was looking over his shoulder, not paying attention, when he ran straight into someone. 

"How?"

Lily was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. Abigail was standing on the steps behind her with Potter at her side. 

Her eyes flicked towards his copy of Advanced Potion-Making tucked beneath his arm and he shifted it into his bag. She knew of his habit to scribble notes in the corner. 

"Move along, Evans." Avery said, voice low with warning. 

Lily glanced at Avery once before turning back to Severus. She starred him for a long moment before she turned on her heal, red hair fanning out behind her. 

"Don't let her ruin this for you." Avery muttered as the pair began walking up the stairs together. "You're a great potion maker, you never needed her help. You don't owe her a damn thing." 

Severus nodded but his heart was racing. 

An idea began to formulate in his head. He began digging through his bag, looking for his schedule so he could see the next time they had a free period. 

He bit his lip. Not until Thursday but their next potions class would be Wednesday.

No matter.

He would go down tomorrow evening, perhaps even tonight.  He would wake up early and skip meals if he had to.

Hell, he would live in the damned dungeon if that's what it took. 

Hope bloomed in his chest. Lily had spoken to him. 

And he would make sure it happened again. 

[remvsjohn]

@redemptioninterlude​ [[five times touched]]

send a 🖐️ emoji ( or just ‘ 5 ′ ) for five times our muses touched .

in sanctuary

the smell of books etched into his hair, his clothes, the same way dark ink stained his finger tips from accidental brushing against still damp parchment, a few ruined pages tossed aside only to be redone. they were spared the harsh glares from madame pince as they’d become a quiet fixture, sweet and unobtrusive and as expected as the desks and chairs; near finals any and everyone new just to pop into the library if you needed remus or marlene, unless of course they found sanctuary in the ravenclaw common room when the gryffindors were in need of more attention than the pair was willing to give. their favorite table boasted a small etching, a few initials just to immortalize the many hours spent huddled around it. 

the harsh ege of the bookshelf dug into remus’ back, barely managing to keep him awake. it reminded him that his bones were bones, hard but brittle, human or not. the night prior the moon had been full, and though he was holed up in his bed all day, the exhaustion was still settled deep into his bones. luckily, marlene didn’t complain when he moved himself to the floor sat next to a pile of books he still needed to annotate. the quiet swish of her clothes brought a small smile to his lips, knowing she’d just sat down next to him in camaraderie. 

his head began to dip, sight blurring. he had already made himself as small as possible - curling lanky limbs into himself. his sweater - two sizes too large, a relic from a weekend at the potter’s that left the shirt he’d been wearing in ashes - blanketed him in softness and warmth, the fabric pooling in his palms. gravity and desperate sleepiness soon pulled him toward the floor. softly, not trying to disturb her progress his head of loose, shaggy curls found refuge on her lap as he cuddled his potions book into his chest. he couldn’t tell if it was his near dream state or reality when he felt the slightest of brushes against his hair, or the light pressure of a hand coming to rest against his shoulder.

in celebration

the ravenclaw and hufflepuff flags hung ‘round the pitch. yellow gleamed sunlight and cheer, accenting opposing bronze. remus’ shoulders proudly bore his father’s vintage practice jersey, and he wasn’t the only gryffindor displaying the ravenclaw colors in the stands. he could see several friends in the badger seats, more than a few in extravagant costumes to show support. 

the points were neck and neck, each team’s keepers and chasers were fighting hard to maintain an edge. the assumption that gryffindor and slytherin were the most competitive in the school was simply biased propaganda - from his seat, remus’ eye glinted with mischievous anticipation. the chasers were taunting one another, and he watched, smirking, the almost undetectable signaling of the ravenclaw chasers to the beaters. nerves couldn’t help but bubble up knowing that a blow from a bludger could prove to be fatal, but he did so enjoy a well fought match. 

things were getting i n t e r e s t i n g.

he only realized the pressure of fingernails digging into his palms when his mesmer was broken upon the sharp turn of the ravenclaw chaser. the snitch had been seen! remus was swept up in the small sea of students surrounding him who immediately fled the bleachers to head down to the pitch. the twenty point lead brought wild cheers from the ravenclaw stands - once the snitch was in hand, the match would be over with a blue and bronze win. 

he was still on the stairs when the screaming started, signaling it had, in fact, been caught. once his feet touched grass eyes quickly sought the score and -

he and the rest of the ravenclaw supporters rushed out onto the field where the players began landing. he found marlene, currently celebrating alongside her housemates, and remus’ arms wrapped around her waist from behind, lifting and spinning her around in a celebratory hug before offering high fives to the rest of the team. 

in comfort

winter break, seventh year. the tinsel on the evergreen boughs and warm light of the fire only exacerbated the lonely ache resonating through his veins. most of the students had already fled the grounds in favor of their family homes, and remus wasn’t meant to be far behind them. he only had to stay behind until after the full moon since his father’s house could no longer contain the beast he became during transformation. his footsteps carried him throughout the castle, up and down hallways, across stretching staircases, in some kind of hope to get mindlessly lost - perhaps as lost as he felt, letter clutched in his left hand. it was fruitless, though. remus had memorized nearly every centimeter of the school and no turn could keep his mind busy, nor keep his tears from falling quietly to the stone.

he wasn’t expecting to come across marlene, though. not like this. she saw the grief etched in his features immediately, and of course she asked what he was doing, where he was going. it was sweet to know she didn’t immediately pry, though perhaps it was alarming to actually see the sadness in full form, rather than veiled behind his eyes or tucked behind a smile.

“ the owlery. i’ve got to send james a note - i was meant to spend christmas with him - godric i haven’t even got paper though. “ what had he been intending, to send his father’s letter along? he’d only decided vaguely to let james know but was for once totally and completely unprepared for the task. it needed to be a letter, though. he didn’t know if he could say it. “ my mum’s just - she -” his body threatened to collapse in on itself, but marlene read the words unspoken and rushed in to hold him close. he sank down into her touch - his eyes closed, fingertips let the letter fall to the stone. his cheek came to rest against her hair, her arms up over his shoulders. her warmth spread through his jumper, a slow rising tide against the aching emptiness that filled him. his mum was gone. just like that. gone with the flick of a wand, with the stroke of a pen.

in diffidence

" you know that broom cupboard everyone claims people go to snog? “ remus brought their strides to a slow amble. the sixth floor was mostly deserted - his preference, as a prefect. how he’d been given the position he’d never know. he’d never given a detention in his life and didn’t intend to start. instead he preferred to gently scold students for being caught with the assurance that if it became habit the conversation would be approached differently.  there were a few instances where remus had to intervene more directly - students tended to endanger themselves and others a bit more frequently than their parents knew - and he’d rushed a student to hospital more than once. maybe that was the reason, afterall. being a member of the more mischievous group of students, he instinctively knew where to look when students were in trouble. remus was happy to boast that since his appointment they’d not had a first year spend the night lost in the halls.

when marlene began to prod, teasingly, as to why he was bringing up the cupboard, a rosy warmth blushed over his features. it wasn’t often he felt embarrassed, but when he was it radiated through his body. he couldn’t quite rid himself of the small smile though he found himself raising a hand to the back of his head, gaze turned down as they walked. he would’ve walked straight into the wall and hid his face there for the next 30 minutes if she’d let him.

“ no, listen - it’s right ‘round the corner, yeah? they say ‘oh, the sixth floor cupboard,’ and all that, yeah? “

marlene’s reaction made him turn around immediately and start walking right in the other direction, only stopped by the soft tug against the hem of his long sleeve, righting his course back on track. the smile simply wouldn’t leave his face and he hung his head low, trying to hide it, stuffing his hands into his pockets. of course it sounded like he was making a move on her. merlin knew it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility! but of course that wasn’t what he had in mind at the time. the truth? remus had a theory, and who better to test the theory with than his sharp-witted friend? he did his best to focus his intentions and as they rounded the corner, there it was. a door that looked just like any other closet. they approached, and remus leaned his back against the door. his hand reached out, shyly, gently taking hold of marlene’s. 

“ what i’m saying is, i don’t think this room is what we think it is. “ his eyes shone the color of stone in the candlelight, peeking out through hair that had gotten just a bit too long in his face. the blush on his cheeks faded in favor of mischievous excitement. though, to be honest, the thought that she might truly think he’d brought her here for a snog and she was playing along, approaching him just then, wasn’t a thought he’d find himself readily able to get rid of. perhaps part of him really did hope it was just a closet.

remus’ eyes fell shut and he focused, hard. a room. a room to hide in. a room for rest. his free hand found the door knob, and with a quick glance around the hall he opened it behind him. he stole the first look in, and the excitement that bubbled up extended through his fingers while he squeezed her hand and opened the door wider.

“ i don’t know what this is, but it’s not a broom cupboard! “

in memoriam

there was a dampness to the air, sticking his clothes against his frame, frosting the ends of his hair in cold droplets. his feet moved mechanically, autopilot directing him to the door. faint knocks resounded in his familiar pattern - one. one, two. one - but this time when he entered the rented room he wasn’t filled with the relief that usually flooded over him, seeing her silhouette. he didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, as his body found hers on the divan and he sat down beside her. usually these calls were a welcoming hello and respite from all the war was taking from the pair of them. this time, goodbye hung in the air, sparking against each crackle of the fire. 

his hand entwined with hers, turning it slightly before opening marlene’s palm upwards. remus couldn’t bare to look into her eyes, so instead his found the cracks in the floor, the soft folds of the fabric of her sleeve.

“ a wedding present...” he muttered, doing all he could to keep bitterness from rising into his words. no, it needed to stay down in his stomach, burning holes in all that was once a righteous feeling of right and wrong. gently, he dropped the gift into her palm. the small opal locket shone against the dim light - moonstone opal, though very few would notice the specificity. “ i’m going north. “ north. fenrir’s pack. at dumbledore’s behest, of course, but the way sirius looked him in the eyes the morning prior remus couldn’t help but wonder just how farr dumbledore would let him fall. the people he loved most? their trust in him was waning, though he’d sworn to the headmaster he’d keep this secret from them. too risky, he thought. the knowledge alone could get someone killed, himself included, and he used to doubt his friends would allow him on this journey alone if they did know. as the weeks and months passed, though... he was less and less sure he’d ever have anything to come back to.

“i won’t be back before your wedding, so i just...” there it was. cutting the short amount of time between then and the nuptials short meant this was goodbye for good. no, once marlene was married, they’d likely not see each other again. not until, or unless, they may be looking down their wands at one another.

his fingers closed around her hand, sealing the necklace into her palm, holding on for just one more moment. then he stood, no longer able to bear the buzzing ache spreading through him. the emptiness that devoured.

“ if it turns black, have a drink for me. ”

[kehideni]

I think it’s time i rant why i ship the Commander with Caithe.

And not specifically MY commander, but the general commander character. (which is why i don’t care that my Commander happens to be male)

I don’t even know where to start... i guess for clarifications:

I personally don’t feel either way for Caithe. I guess i like her but she wouldn’t be on my top 10-20 favourit character list.

When i first played Guild Wars 2(yes my main character is my first ever character) i played through with the mindset that i am this charr and i will make the choices that i think will save the most lives(lel.... later on i learned it didn’t matter). So when i plowed through the personal story of the Commander i was in the mindset of “I AM A CHARR!!! AND IN THIS WORLD OF CONSTANT BATTLE I AM THE DEADLIEST WEAPON OF ALL!” (also mild Denalien influence but Denalien is intertvined with my being so... let’s not go into that)

I LOVED that Rytlock was badass and unflinching and angry i guess in simpler way: Charr = GW2′s version of orks(WoW) which means Rytlock = Thrall but actually badass.

By pure coincidence i made the choices that made me meet with mainly charr characters and it made me believe it’s because i chose charr that i meet charr. Later on i learned that... no... i just chose the paths that made me meet charr.

Queue in the story instances from 10 to 80, and past-kehideni notices a pattern. Rytlock is not the one that your character connects to the most.

I know, the letters you get are all from Rytlock when you are a charr, but the one other person Arenanet pushes your Commander to connect with is- you guessed it- Caithe.

Twilight Arbor- now you would argue Rytlock Logan and Caithe but Rytlock leaves before you start fighting any nightmare court and Logan after just a bunch of spiders. Canonically, it’s just the Commander and Caithe. Nothing actually that i’d noticed when playing through because the Commander only asks questions from Caithe that i’d want to know anyway. However this instance literally has established a connection between the two that later on gets referenced in a throwaway speechline with someone you’ll be surprised by. We’ll get to that.

Sorrow’s Embrace- Eir, Zojja and Caithe: the Commander asks Caithe for information (of course, who else. Not like they can ask Zojja at that moment, but these are all just starting off things)

Honor of the Waves- Eir and Caithe: the Commander tells Caithe to shut up and let Eir come to the right conclusion herself which makes me laugh to this day xD (This is where my personal meme comes from “Shut up, Kyle Caithe!”)

Ruined city of Arah- the Commander sasses Caithe. Basically in the story instances the Commander and Caithe work towards the same goal, to reunite Destiny’s Edge.

Things happen in the between though: There is this quest where Trahearne and the Commander enter a vision of the Pale Tree. In there, the Pale Tree tells the Commander that they MUST reunite Destiny’s Edge and this is where Twilight Arbor greets back a bit. 

When you walk past the members you hear them talk to each other, blame each other.

Caithe however stands out because she isn’t talking with one of her friends, she talks to Faolain. The crazy part is that in this vision you are not supposed to AND can’t talk to any vision-npc.... that is except for Faolain herself. But let’s see what happened beforehand:

Narratively speaking when a character says they are alone and tired, it’s supposed to elicit protectiveness from the viewer and/or empathy.

“So here i am a bulky a** charr, why is her love life any of my buisness?” - very emotional quote from kehideni of the past

Aaaaaha... sure whatever you say Trahearne, but wait.. because here comes the kicker. The ACTUAL kicker where past-kehideni went 

“Wait jus- hold on just a minute here...”

Faolain that was awfully possessive of you, i’m a big a** charr. What competition would i be in this future-vision to you? And then the Commander says “I won’t let Caithe fall into nightmare.”

A little bit of extra:

“Pft... whatever... you’re just her ex.” says the Commander. :v

In Arah Caithe thanks you for saving Destiny’s Edge (also interestingly she is the chosen companion npc as she’s the one that resses you if you get downed) and at the end of the fight she says that all of Tyria is in the Commander’s debt. Ok ... casual stuff. She’s been thanking the Commander left and right that day. As if she didn’t drive home the fact that she’s grateful she thanks the Commander once again at the end party and also is the one to suggest the Commander should go after the rest of the Elder Dragons too.

The next you meet her is the Aetherblade path in Twilight Arbor, the narrative distances Caithe from the Commander. By this time canonically they are friends, duh. So it’s like a friend has a side the Comm didn’t know so far. Nothing interesting yet, let’s hurry on.

She attends the summit, of course she does. You can’t talk with her.

In Echoes of the Past Comm saves her, their talk is still friendly but distanced. I do want to note that Canach and Caithe are so similar in attitude xD

Tangled Paths: Comm goes up to her to talk and she says “don’t mind me” and proceeds to follow you around and friendly-mocks you as “boss”. We know NOW why, but not back then. This is important because not long before this i realised that the Comm can’t possibly be me. It’s MassEffect’s case of Commander Shepard. You controll them but they are their own character and your choices have only slight weight in the story because the Commanders’ choices are already set in stone by the actual writers. What you CAN do is write the WHY parts, and this is soon the part where my writing interferes with actual canon but you’ll see my reasonings.

When the Comm talks with Caithe she’s the most civil with them among their allies. (We later learn it was to keep the Comm. in the dark.)

The beauty of this scene is that Caithe WILL learn why a mother can’t keep their eyes off of their children.

“Is that a problem?” “Not for me.” Still can take this line as civil but kinda funny line in hindsight. (Get it? Because it will be a problem for them.)

So Caithe’s betrayal happens, and the Comm is FURIOUS!

Lol my charr is too tall, but the shot was meant to place the Comm face to face with Caithe because in the next shot she looks them in the eye and goes for the egg.

When Marjory notes that Caithe is a Sylvari the Comm goes defensive “So? What are you trying to say?” Their friend would never do that- is what narratively they want to convey, but later on in HoT the Comm reacts so harshly to her betrayal i took the wheel a bit.

I mean let’s add up what the Comm knows: Mordremoth created the sylvari, he has mental access to them, he can mind controll them, fool them if they are too strongwilled to do his bidding. Caithe is a sylvari with a strong will. If she betrayed them it’s not of her free mind. It’s like the victim-blaming when a girl gets drugged and they take her body to do as they please. Try as she might she wasn’t clear in the head but she made it clear later on that she didn’t want to betray the Comm. Why would she after all she can be thankful for to the Comm?

So what gives? Well in my mind, the only way to rectify Anet’s nonsense writing(they should really stop reading GW2 reddit forums, not a good place to be influenced with) is to give the Comm a reason to take it to heart a bit too much, say... if they were harboring feelings for her. In my mind it adds up.

So HoT happens, and Caudecus is making his move.

Where next you meet Caithe: Out of the Shadows. (fitting title for her, huh?)

I’m just gonna link the video with timestamp, that whole part is reconciling:

https://youtu.be/AABguDwhieE?t=2612

At this point the writing of GW2 seems to take a chillpill so i go with the flow. The Comm realising that he overreacted inspects himself: Why? This is the part the Comm realises that “oh sheet, they got them feels.”

Aurene hatches, Caithe is there.

The first time the Comm is voiced in LW and he jokes around with a character it’s with Caithe.

Comm: “I’d feel better if someone i knew was watching the chamber.”

Caithe fishing for the one line that would reassure her that the Comm talking with her actually means that they are ok with her now: “Someone you trust?”

Comm: “Yeah, so... could you ask Taimi to get her right away?”

Caithe relieved her relationship with Comm is safe: “You’re joking with me, i take that as a good sign.” They talk around a bit more, they are healing and that’s adorable.

Later on she thanks the Comm for letting her prove herself to them by looking out for Aurene.

Path of Fire happens, she’s like throwaway-ly mentioned by Taimi.

I was all, “Well, goodbye Caithe you got Zojja’d, it was a good headcannon while it lasted” but THENNNNNNN ARENANET THROWS ME THIS

Like... are you fkin’ kidding me. This line alone means that she’s been stalking the Commander IN STEALTH ATLEAST since they met Zafirah in Sun’s Refuge!!! THE BARE MINIMUM SHE SAW FROM STEALTH WAS THE COMM GOING IN ON A SUICIDE MISSION, HOW ABOUT SOME HELP YOU CONNIVING VEGETAB- sorry... my personal annoyance at her came out.

Back to story, after this All or Nothing happens where the Comm and Caithe are confirmed parents of Aurene. When Aurene branded Caithe only the Comm asked if she was still herself, not even Rytlock nor Logan, the actual two people who know her longest. The Comm and Caithe are constantly paralleled next to Aurene as her “champions” because dragons apparently don’t have parental bonds*sarcasm* :V

Requiem happens and Rytlock himself says he sees it now. Coincidentally as of writing this he is going through the very same trauma Caithe and Comm went through when Aurene died.

Caithe calls for Comm to return to her because she needs them, and the Comm tells everyone they should go and spend whatever time they have with people they love. Implying that Aurene is who Comm loves but then again Caithe is there too. The 3 of them were going to spend the last of their lives with each other. (not saying they don’t love the rest of the group, but had they decided to leave, the 3 would still stay together.)

As from War Eternal to till now their co-parental connection is getting stronger.

[thirsty-x1]

Sunrise | Lee Hangyul

Request:

uhm so the bio says open so here goes my pitch✨ babysitter hangyul taking care of toddler dohyon for one night and you caught him teaching dohyon how to dance and just you guys taking care of dohyon and getting him to sleep in cute pajamas uwu

↬ Pairing: Hangyul x gn!reader.

↬ Genre: Fluff.

↬ Warnings: none, but toddler!Dohyon is adorable.

↬ Word Count: 1.6k

↬ Song Recommendation: “Sunrise” by GOT7 (Jaebeom solo)

Your heartbeat got quicker when you received Hangyul’s message, the screen illuminating and allowing you to read “I have a surprise for you.” Uncertainty filled you, not knowing what to expect since the outcome to those words was always different: sometimes, it included a mess he had made while practicing his newest hobby, others a nice dinner, and once Hangyul completely naked on the couch, all three of them leading to you having to clean something up. The sound of the keys in your fingers broke the silence as you opened the door, hoping that you didn’t need to any chores, your eyes opening wide at the scene developing in front of you.

Music loud, the broad back of your boyfriend covering the TV as he copied the moves displaying in the screen at a slower pace so that the tiny person beside him tried to catch up. A smile started to spread on your face before you could even close the door, both of them turning to you when you squealed, Dohyon running to your arms and asking to be picked up incessantly.

“My favorite boy is back~” You pressed your cheek against his, ignoring the slight sweat on his skin and proceeding to give him a soft kiss while holding him close, and he didn’t quite complain, his gaze fixed on Hangyul.

“He has been torturing me!” The accusative tone in his voice added to his small finger pointing at your boyfriend tightened up your chest, trying to hold back your laugh while asking why he said that. “Hyung doesn’t want to feed me.”

At Dohyon’s slight pout, the other came up to defend himself. “I said that I would cook you something if you danced with me to a few songs!”

This always happened whenever Hangyul had to babysit Dohyon: the toddler wanted to eat, the other wanted to make exercise, and you always found yourself in front of two kids fighting thanks to both having the same mental age. With a small sigh, you put down Dohyon, changing the video that was playing to another one with a way more simpler choreography than the one your boyfriend had chosen and with the kind of music that the little one seemed to enjoy. Turning around with a big grin, they seemed to have the same idea as you, getting up and dancing without paying much attention to the moves and simply laughing at each other, Dohyon’s high pitched giggles filling the room when Hangyul nearly fell.

Since it was still pretty early to have dinner, you tried to come up with different plans to keep Dohyon distracted, and that’s how you ended up having a karaoke competition. It was cute whenever the younger would mess up a few words, although his diction was extremely good considering he was so little and just by sharing a look with Hangyul you knew what he was thinking: pure talent. Both of you had talked about it multiple times too. Dohyon seemed to have a deep fondness for music and that always showed in the seriousness in his face whenever he listened to songs and how he paid attention whenever Seungyoun would teach him how to handle any machinery to compose songs. It was certainly adorable when he excitedly brought his notebook filled with wavering letters for you to give him feedback, and not even once you were disappointed by it, the huge smile on his face always making you feel warm.

As the last song faded, you could hear not one but two stomachs grumbling and giving the perfect ending to the performance, making you laugh out loud as you got up.

“I guess you’re hungry?” Both of them nodded at your question. “Then I’ll start cooking.”

Dohyon placed his small hands on your knees and jumped a few times. “Can I help? I like cooking…”

“What a liar, you just want to taste everything before it is ready.” Hangyul exposed him cruelly, sticking out his tongue when Dohyon rolled his eyes and went back to looking at you pleadingly.

Sometimes it felt like the only adult in the house was you, and it wasn’t very far from reality. As you went with Dohyon to the bathroom and washed your hands together, Hangyul started cleaning up the living room and clearing a bit of space in the kitchen, setting up a chair near the counter so that Dohyon could reach the table and help out.

You opened the fridge, scanning what your boyfriend had in there without focusing on the vegetables thanks to the smaller’s disgusted look when he saw them. Finally, you settled up for something simple (not like the few products were going to allow you to make something more elaborated): omelet and some bits of steak. You cracked the eggs and added the seasoning, letting Dohyon mix everything together to later pass it back to you so you would prepare and give the final form to it while Hangyul was in charge of cooking the meat.

In just a few minutes, everything was ready, the toddler hurrying to settle the table, his tiny hands carrying everything that was necessary and sitting up to wait for you to serve everything. The way his eyes shined as you placed the plate in front of him made you smile, and seeing him stuff his cheeks with the food while making the most delighted expression had Hangyul feeling proud.

Sharing these kind of moments made you think about the future, your mind wandering as you saw your boyfriend leaning across the table to clean the corner of Dohyon’s lips. Your eyes were fixed on him, your heart beating a bit fast at the thought of how it would be to form a family with him and seeing him as a father, but when his stare met yours it quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he caught you looking at him like that, and the jokes that followed those moments would chase you indefinitely, but this time he said nothing. Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow, pointing out at Dohyon with his chin and then wiggling his eyebrows again. Whatever he was trying to say with that gesture, it was impossible to understand, so you simply ignored it and continued with your meal.

As soon as everyone finished, Hangyul stood up to wash the dishes while telling you to go and change Dohyon into his green pajamas with a “D” sewed on the chest. His eyes looked tired, yawning a few times and stretching, whining a bit when his hyung entered the room with a loud cheer.

“How about we watch a movie, hm?” Your proposal was accepted without much resistance.

You sat on the bed, making space so that Dohyon would be comfortable in your lap while Hangyul hugged you from behind, the three of you sitting in a vertical line right in front of the TV. Your boyfriend had picked the movie, but it wasn’t long until you felt the weight of Dohyon’s head on your arm, his eyes closed and his breathing steady, and somehow his tiredness washed over you as well.

It was only the soft, distant noise of the actors speaking what filled the room now, although Hangyul wasn’t paying attention to them at all. Instead, he was looking at you, the way you slept placidly refuging in his arms, and the way that Dohyon was curled up against you too, his arms being wide enough to hold you both close to his body. He wasn’t prone to show it, but you were his biggest weakness and strength at the same time, especially when it came to moments like these. Taking care of Dohyon was more of an usual thing now rather than an occasional favor for his parents, he was even excited waiting for their call. Sure, he really liked the feeling of having a younger sibling, but he also liked seeing the way you took care of the kid, the small interactions between you two, and you were oblivious to it but he had the exact same thoughts that you did during dinner.

His body focused on the warmth that yours irradiated, the way your hand held his tightly even while being unconscious while the other was wrapped around Dohyon. There was something about the scenario that made him feel warm, his fingers tracing silly figures on your arm and then softly pocking one of the child’s chubby cheeks. He wasn’t tired, not really, and anyway it was much more entertaining to see how you two slept so profoundly. It was hard for him to express what he felt when he had you like that, but it was close to saying he felt safe and also trusted, slightly honored at the fact that you were so vulnerable with him.

Your scent surrounded him, his eyes fluttering shut for a second and at the other, he could feel the warm rays of sunshine on his skin, his eyes suddenly intoxicated with the way the light danced on you and Dohyon. He was quick to cover both of you, protecting your eyes from the intrusive sun that threatened to disturb your peacefulness, but the low snores indicated that wasn’t happening any time soon. Hangyul let out a light giggle at that, careful to not wake you up, and instead rested his head against the pillows behind him, finally letting the tiredness wash him over now that he made sure you two were safe.

He knew that whatever happened was fine as long as you were with him.

This made me a bit soft because I love domestic interactions :(:((( I hope it’s good;;; not writing in such a long time has been hard so I feel like I’m a little bit stiff lol

~Nani

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[yeniayofnymeria]

GRRM's Original Outline "What has changed?"

Hello,

Now you all know Martin's letter he wrote in '93. When this letter was written and sent to the editor, the first 13 chapters (200 pages) were already written. In addition, the book consisted of three volumes of the first stage, but as you know, but its 7 volumes now.When we read the letter and the first 5 books, the first comment made was very different and different from the first outline; one or two things remain the same. But is it really? Here I would like to discuss this with you. I think I will go through the events step by step and you will make your own contributions when you read. Let's start!

1. Stark-Lannister war. It's remain, nothing changed.

2. (Dany) Targaryen's 7K invasion with Dothraks. It's still did not happend but we know Dany has Unsullied and some sellswords and next book, she will have Dothraks too. She will linger a little more in essos and then come to the West for the conquer. It's remain too.

3. The Others. GRRM said " Their story will be [sic] heart of my third volume, The Winds of Winter. " It's remain too.

4. Five Main Key Characters (Jon, Arya, Bran, Dany and Tyrion). " In a sense, my trilogy is almost a generational saga, telling the life stories of these five characters, three men and two women. The five key players are Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and three of the children of Winterfell, Arya, Bran, and the bastard Jon Snow." It's remain too.

5. Fall of the Starks. " Things will get a lot worse for the poor Starks before they get better, I'm afraid. " Yes, indeed it happened.

6. Dead of Robert and long may live new king! "Ned will discover what happened to his friend Jon Arryn... will have an unfortunate accident, and the throne will to brutal Joffrey, still a minor." Yes, it happened too. This substance remained the same too.

7.Sansa and Joffrey. "Sansa Stark wed to Joffrey Baratheon, will bear him a son, the heir to the throne, and when the crunch comes she will choose her husband and child over her parents and siblings, a choice she will later bitterly rue. " Sansa betrays his family anyway but she did not wed Joffrey or bear his son. This substance has changed a bit.

8. Bran's coma and dream and greenseer and dead of Robb. " Young Bran will come out of his coma, after a strange prophetic dream... He will turn to magic, at first in the hope of restoring his legs, but later for its own sake... Robb Stark will die in battle." 

Bran's the same, but Robb's got some change. Robb doesn't die in a war against Joffrey, Jaime and Tyrion. But he really wins a few battles at first (against Tywin. So there's no Tywin in the first place) and then he dies at the Red Wedding.

Bran's in a coma. So Jaime and Cersei are standing exactly. This shows that Jon Arryn's death is due to his learning of the relationship(Jaime-Cersei). So Joff was a bastard in the first outline too. Ned died for the same reason.

Tyrion did not burn Winterfell but fought against Stark army and became Hand of King. Jaime fought against Robb too and lost, was captured. This part is different in some ways, but the same in some ways.

9. Jon Snow, The Wall and Lord Commander. " Jon Snow, the bastard, will remain in the far north. He will mature into a ranger of great daring, and ultimately will succeed his uncle as the commander of the Night's Watch "

Jon goes the wall and will became lord commander but Benjen was lord commander in the first place but it seems he dies anyway or disappear. It's remain.

10. Helping family and Jonarya Love. " When Winterfell burns, Catelyn Stark will be forced to flee north with her son Bran and her daughter Arya. Wounded by Lannister riders, they will seek refuge at the Wall, but the men of the Night's Watch give up their families when they take the black, and Jon and Benjen will not be able to help, to Jon's anguish. It will lead to a bitter estrangement between Jon and Bran. Arya will be more forgiving ... until she realizes, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book. "

Winterfell is being burned by Greyjoys. Cat is not with Stark children, he is with Robb. Bran and others run away and went to the Wall. But Bran and others did not take refuge in the black brothers. Jon has something to do with Arya again. He wants to protect and save her(FArya). He can't do it because of his vows and he's in a lot of pain... And we know who is Jon's real parents.

Jon and Arya love... It's still too early to say anything about it. When Arya goes to the wall, the love between the two emerges. Arya escaped from KL as in the first outline. But instead of going home, she drifted into her own adventure. Arya has been trying to get home and Jon all along. She'll probably go straight to the wall when she gets back from Braavos. There are so many hints about Jonarya love in books. ( https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/125364-jon-arya-hints-and-overall-significance-of-their-relationship-including-part-3/ )

11. Beyond The Wall and Bran-Cat-Arya. "Abandoned by the Night's Watch, Catelyn and her children will find their only hope of safety lies even further north, beyond the Wall, where they fall into the hands of Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and get a dreadful glimpse of the inhuman others as they attack the wilding encampment. Bran's magic, Arya's sword Needle, and the savagery of their direwolves will help them survive, but their mother Catelyn will die at the hands of the others." This part has undergone significant changes. Despite this, some small parts remained.

Arya is not with them, Cat neither but she dies anyway (and came back but as fire wight not ice wight). Bran never meet Mance(yes, Mance exists) and see others but he sees deads and met Cold Hand(ice wight) and BR and Singers. I guess Rickon is not exists.

Arya has Needle, that's mean Jon gave her it anyway. And direwolves...

12. Dany, Viserys and Drogo. “Over across the narrow sea, Daenerys Targaryen will discover that her new husband, the Dothraki Khal Drogo, has little interest in invading the Seven Kingdoms, much to her brother's frustration. When Viserys presses his claims past the point of tact or wisdom, Khal Drogo will finally grow annoyed and kill him out of hand, eliminating the Targaryen pretender and leaving Daenerys as the last of her line. Danerys [sic] will bide her time, but she will not forget. When the moment is right, she will kill her husband to avenge her brother, and then flee with a trusted friend into the wilderness beyond Vaes Dothrak. " Only 5% of this part has changed.

13. Dragon Eggs and Invasion Plans."There, hunted by [unclear] of her life, she stumbles on a [something about dragon eggs] a young dragon will give Daenerys [unclear] bend [unclear] to her will. Then she begins to plan for her invasion of the Seven Kingdoms." This part has changed 95%.

14. Tyrion's Fate. "Tyrion Lannister will continue to travel, to plot, and to play the game of thrones, finally removing his nephew Joffrey in disgust at the boy king's brutality. Jaime Lannister will follow Joffrey on the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, by the simple expedient of killing everyone ahead of him in the line of succession and blaming his brother Tyrion for the murders. Exiled, Tyrion will change sides, making common cause with the surviving Starks to bring his brother down, and falling helplessly in love with Arya Stark while he's at it. His passion is, alas, unreciprocated, but no less intense for that, and it will lead to a deadly rivalry between Tyrion and Jon Snow."

Yes, it seems this part almost completely changed. But Tyrion has been betrayed by his family in every way(Tysha thing and attempt to kill), just it changed "how it will be" This betrayal caused him to change sides. Only on Targaryen side instead of Stark. But Tyrion will probably be on the Stark side too.

Tyrion is exiled to Essos, not north. Jaime's not the bad guy in the story, Cersei is. Joffrey's dying. In the first Outline, Jaime kills everyone, so Sansa is dead. In the present story, Sansa is still alive and her story continues. They're not named, but probably Joff's siblings are in the first outline and they're dead.

There's no competition between Tyrion and Jon(Arya). It's hard to expect it at this point. We need to wait for the next encounter, but I don't think it will. Unlike the first otline, Jon and Tyrion are good friends. If GRRM designs a love triangle like the first one, maybe they can be enemies. Or maybe he changed the third candidate for that love triangle. (However, if you read Mercy POV, GRRM is waving its hand to this love triangle there.)

In general, the outline / skeleton remains exactly the same, even the characters' motives are more or less the same; there are big changes in a few places, but not so big changes in the remaining parts. Same affliction, betrayal and so on that will ensure the development of the character. Situations occurred in one way or another. It's just that things have gone differently ... but betrayal comes from the family again and (Jon) he's suffering because he can't help the family.

He keeps his end.

GEORGE: […]As I write these last two books, I’ll be moving towards the ending I’ve known since 1991/

“Some major characters — yes, I always had plans, what Tyrion’s arc was gonna be through this, what Arya’s arc was gonna be through this, what JonSnow’s arc is gonna be. ”

...

I don’t want to reveal what I’ve planned for some of these characters, but I’m pretty well on track with most of the major characters. It’s minor characters like Bronn that assume greater importance.”

At Balticon 2016 he said he knows who sits on the Iron Throne at the end.

A year later, in a video interview he continued by saying he has always known the fates of his main characters, who lives or dies, marries who...etc since 1991 when he began writing.

That's all. Thank you for read and sorry again for my bad English. Bye.

[srsly-messed-up-fruitloop]

Tug of War (Ch 4)

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Word Count: 2,816

Final exam season had finally come. To say the seniors of Casper High were stressed was an understatement, college application deadlines were also quickly approaching.

Wes Weston however, was stressed for a whole other reason. His attempt before winter break to awaken the angry ghostliness in Fenton wasn’t enough. He only saw Fenton ripping out all the decorations, without glowing green eyes or anything else ghostly he could catch on camera. And to make manners worse, the school’s caretaker blamed him for leaving shattered ornaments in the halls so he winded up with detention. It wasn’t even his fault!

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Stealing another glance at the classroom’s wall clock, he scowled when he realized that he still had twenty minutes to burn until his computer science exam ended. 

Might as well not let this time go to waste. Pushing aside his completed exam, he grabbed a scrap piece of paper and began to brainstorm other ways to infuriate Fenton. He stole a glance at Fenton’s sidekick, Foley, hastily writing away. Frowning, he turned back to his page. 

Meanwhile, for Danny, he has never felt this anxious ever before in his life. 

Before, when he was barely scraping by in class, he was beginning to accept that his dreams would remain as that. Just dreams. Protecting the town would always come first. He became indifferent to his grades because 1) he’d convinced himself that he was a bad student, nothing could change that, and 2) it wasn’t that important anyways. He could deal with his parents’ disappointment. 

However, after dealing with his exhausting responsibilities for a few years now, he finally learned to properly manage his time. And it showed when he found out he ended last year with a B+ average.

He told himself it was just a fluke, there’s no way Danny Fenton could get those grades. At most, he was a C- student. Yet, a tiny spark of hope flared up and drove Danny to try harder this year. Perhaps it was just a fluke, but who knows? What if it happened again?

And when it kept happening, sometimes even getting back A’s on his tests, then it hit him. He was actually capable of doing well in school. 

Allowing himself to believe that meant that his childhood aspirations were possible. But, there was always that question in the back of his mind: What if this all was just a fluke? His luck could run out anytime. He could easily fail all his exams and lose his chances. And what then?

He could not come back after letting himself believe that he had a future to look forward to. Of all the times he had barely escaped being destroyed by his enemies, it didn’t compare to the mounting fear he had of not getting into college. 

That fear was only accentuated by his stressed classmates. Danny felt ill every time he heard Star talking about all the schools her brother was rejected from, Mikey and Nathan discussing admission cutoffs, and practically everyone going into a panic when their average lowered. Even Dash was worried about meeting his minimum requirement for his football scholarship.

Thing is, Danny couldn’t even look forward to college itself. Don’t get him wrong, he likes learning, especially about space. But he would have to endure four more years of school, plus another two for a masters. 

At first, he just told himself to suck it up. It was a necessary sacrifice.

Now though, he was conflicted. He had to do his undergrad in some science-related college program to be eligible for the space program. However, what if he ended up in an undergrad program he didn’t like? He’d be stuck with it. What if college is too hard for him? He could very well fail everything and get kicked out. Then he wouldn’t even be able to continue to get a masters. And of course, the biggest question of them all: would he able to handle juggling his ghostly responsibilities and college for the next six years? Heck, with how stressed out Jazz seems these days, how much worse would it be for him?

Danny was simultaneously afraid of both getting in and not getting into college.

“Hey Danny, you alright?” asked Sam.

Like always, he pushed these worries away into that overcrowded space in the back of his mind. “Yeah, ‘m fine,” he mumbled before rereading the same sentence in his textbook for the twentieth time.

“Are you sure? We could just take a bre—”

Suddenly, his ghost sense went off.

~

Danny gripped his bleeding forearm. He just needed it to clot, then his self-healing would eventually kick in. But it wasn’t clotting. He worriedly watched as his blood tinged with ectoplasm dripped onto the floor. This wasn’t good.

He looked up at Sam with desperate eyes, who bit her lip. “Hang on, I think have something that’ll help. Be right back,” she assured before scurrying from their secluded refuge under the staircase.

She returned not even a minute later, holding a flat square object wrapped in colourful plastic. Danny’s eyes widened and before he could even protest, she unpackaged and wrapped it around his wound.

Sam’s gaze hardened when he started squirming away. “Danny, it’s just a pad.”

“Bu—”

“It’s either this or one of your socks. Now relax, we need to get the bleeding to stop before next period.”

“What’s next period?”

“Bio exam, remember?”

“Dammit.” He thumped his head against the wall.

“It’s okay, we’ve still got a bit of time bef—”

The two teens tensed as they heard footsteps coming from the height of the staircase.

“Danny, quick, hide it!” she said in a panicked whisper.

“How am I supposed to hide a bleeding arm?!” he quietly exclaimed.

She huffed at his reply before swiftly releasing her pressure on his arm, rolling up his sweater sleeve over the pad, and using his other hand to press on the wound again through his sweater.

“Ah, hello Mr. Fenton, just the man I was looking for. And Ms. Manson,” Lancer greeted, suspiciously eyeing how close the two teens were sitting. He wasn’t naive, he was aware of what some of his students get up to in these secluded areas of the school. “I’m sorry to interrupt, can I have a word with you Daniel?”

“Mr. Lancer, I swear I-I...”

“Relax, you’re not in trouble. I’d just like a moment to speak with you.”

“Uh…” Danny hesitated.

“If this is not the best time, you can always speak to me later. Although, I implore you that you should see me sooner than later on this matter.”

“Oh…okay.” He glanced at Sam, who was frowning in worry. Forcing a reassuring smile on his face, he stood up from her and followed Lancer to his classroom.

As they walked through the halls, he tried to arrange his arms in a more casual position while placing a little more pressure on the wound.

“Mr. Fenton, I recall reading that you aspire to become an astronaut from one of your essays in 9th grade,” Lancer mentioned as he unlocked his classroom’s door.

Following him into the classroom, Danny replied warily, “Uh...yeah?” How the heck did Lancer remember something so miniscule from something he wrote ages ago?

His English teacher approached his desk and grabbed something from a drawer. “Have you heard of the Young Astronauts program?” he asked, presenting a pamphlet to him.

“No?” Danny momentarily released his hold on his injured arm to accept it, only to regret when he felt something warm drip down his arm. Shit! He held the pamphlet with his index and middle finger while quickly resuming his hold, praying for nothing to bleed through his sleeve. Why won’t it clot already??

Meanwhile, Lancer scrutinized his unusual movements for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been informed that this program fast tracks you to becoming an astronaut at NASA. Though it’s very competitive, once in, you only have to complete a four year practical program before you’re fully eligible for the space program.”

“Really?” He used his thumb to flip through the brochure, getting more excited as he read the outline of the program. However, once he reached the admission requirements section, his excitement suddenly deflated. “What makes you think I can get in?”

“Daniel, if you maintain what you have right now, your grades will be good enough for the requirements. Also, I’d be more than happy to write that letter of reference for you,” he smiled warmly.

His teacher’s sincerity caught him by surprise. “Oh, uh...thanks Mr. Lancer.”

“Anytime. Now, I think there’s an email at the back to contact if you have any questions. I won’t steal anymore of your precious studying time.”

Right when Danny’s foot was out the door, Lancer spoke up again, “Actually, there’s one more thing I mean to ask. Is your arm okay?”

His question stopped Danny right in his tracks. “What do you m-mean?” he nervously asked, voice cracking.

“Well, I can’t help but notice how you’re holding your arm there,” he commented.

“I…” Danny’s brain frantically searched for an excuse. 

Lancer frowned at his hesitation. 

“It’s...it’s a temporary tattoo,” he blurted.

“Pardon?”

“Y-you know those stick-on tattoos you have to press down for like a minute? I-yeah,” Danny improvised.

Lancer blinked. He did not expect that reply at all from the boy. Though, it did make sense. “Ah, very well. See you later Daniel. Good luck on your finals.”

Danny uttered out a goodbye before he all but ran to the bathroom to check his arm.

~

Danny jumped when he felt someone poking him. Turning around, he realized it was only Sam.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“About what happened yesterday, I think you need this.” She thrusted a big first-aid kit in his arms. “We really shouldn’t resort to using my pads anymore,” she chuckled.

“But, I already have one at home though?”

“Yeah, but I think we need one here. Just keep it in your locker, okay?”

“Uh…” He suddenly thought of Wes. Would he even stoop that low to use this as evidence? Probably. Danny sighed, he better not mess with it. This kit looked pretty expensive…

“Sam, you didn’t have to go and buy this.”

“It’s no big deal. I wanted to.”

“Bu—”

“Danny, I don’t have time for this. Stop being stubborn and just take it,” she insisted.

“Fine.” He unhappily grabbed the first-aid kit. “One day I’m paying you back for everything.”

“You honestly don’t have to. Anyways, gotta go!” she blurted before hurrying to her English exam. Two seconds later, the bell rang.

Shit, their English exam! He quickly dumped the kit at the bottom of his locker and ran after her. Hopefully Wes wouldn’t make too big of a deal out of the kit.

~~

Danny turned the corner of the hall and halted in his step when he saw Wes at their locker. Nope, he wasn’t dealing with him today. There was way too much on his mind with the start of the new semester. Calculus was already proving to be the bane of his existence.

He was about to turn around but had to do a double take when he noticed Paulina was there too. Talking to Wes. Weird.

He was too far to hear what they were saying, but Danny’s former crush seemed to be really excited for some reason. Wes then pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. Danny swore he saw Paulina discreetly slip a wad of cash into his other hand before accepting the envelope.

What the heck. What could Wes possibly have that Paulina would pay that kind of money for? You know what, he wasn’t even gonna ask. He needs to start heading to chemistry. Wes could be selling drugs for all he knows; he doesn’t care. 

~

Seeing Wes that morning almost completely slipped from Danny’s mind until he approached his locker after school, this time with a backpack full of textbooks from his new classes. 

He instantly spotted a yellow sticky note on the door which read “MEET ME @ BACK FIELD - DASH” in a hastily scrawled blocky script.

The two most popular kids at Casper High both reached out to Wes today. That doesn’t just happen to anyone, especially someone like Wes. Danny couldn’t help but feel a little curious. 

Selling drugs seems a little too out-of-character for him. He’s the type of person to expose the school’s drug dealers instead of being one himself. What else could he be selling then? Test answers? No, the semester just started. 

As Danny placed his books on the top shelf, he paused when he noticed a small envelope in the very back. Squinting a bit, he saw that it had “Dash” written on it in tiny letters. Upon grabbing it, it felt like it contained something like cardstock. 

Wait. After flipping it, he realized the envelope wasn’t sealed up. And he caught the slight shine of photos peeking from inside.

Last time he heard, neither Dash nor Paulina were interested in photography...

Before he could even act on his now burning curiosity, an all too familiar voice startled him, causing him to drop the envelope in his hands. Its contents spilled all over the floor.

“Fenton, what are you doing?!” screamed Wes before stomping over to him.

“I…” Danny’s reply was lost to him when he stared in bewilderment at the photos lying on the floor. They all...they were of him. Specifically, him during a fight with Ember last week. What shocked him even more was their quality. There was one where he was kneeling, smirking almost directly at the camera while both of his hands held bright green ectoenergy, casting his face in an eerie yet alluring glow.

“You’ve been selling pictures of me??”

“What the hell Fenton? These are supposed to be for Dash!” Wes yelled angrily before crouching, carefully putting back the photos in the envelope.

“Did you not hear me? Wh—how long have you been doing this?”

“None of your business. The photos are mine, I can do what I want with them,” Wes arrogantly asserted.

Danny couldn’t even fathom the audacity of this guy. He knew Wes sometimes stalked him while he was out as Phantom. Sometimes he annoyingly distracted him with the flash of his camera. However, over time he’d realized there was really no harm to it, as long as Wes stayed out of the way. He only seemed to use the footage for his so-called “evidence”. Rather than wasting his energy getting him to leave, Danny understood that there were bigger things he should be focusing on. 

This was just crossing a line though. Danny usually doesn’t mind people making money off of his ghost half. In fact, he himself is probably the one who buys most of the unlicensed Phantom merch at Amity’s souvenir shops. But something about seeing Wes doing it too infuriated him to no end.

Instantly, Danny lunged at him to grab the envelope. Unfortunately, Wes reflexively sidestepped out of the way, and held it behind his back like a basketball a defender was trying to steal. Danny fumed, “Wes, you didn’t even bother to ask to take them! Give them back!” 

Wes kept nothing more than an irritated expression on his face as he continued to hold back the envelope.

Just before Danny was about to take another leap at the red-haired creep, he suddenly heard Dash’s voice from behind.

“Hey Fenturd, get outta the way. I need to talk to Weasel for a sec.”

Danny snapped his head around to see the school’s quarterback standing there impatiently. Fortunately, because of his growth spurt a year or so back, Dash no longer towered over him. Also, around that time, the bully has gradually moved on to harassing the smaller newer kids at Casper. Dash really wasn’t a problem at all for Danny anymore, though he still couldn’t help feeling at edge around him after all this time. He unconsciously took a few steps away from him.

Meanwhile, Wes scowled at his nickname. “Hey, don’t call me that. Otherwise the deal’s off,” he stated in an annoyed tone.

Dash huffed, “Fine.” He pulled out a fifty from his letterman jacket and handed it to Wes, who freely gave the envelope in exchange.

“Those demos I showed you last week plus a few extras are all in there,” Wes said while he sifted through the envelope.

“Looks good,” Dash commented, unable to keep the giddy smile from appearing on his face. He genuinely thanked Wes before slipping the photos into his pocket and leaving.

After a moment, Wes sneered, “Fenton, I’ll stop when you reveal yourself to everyone. Besides, why the heck should Danny Fenton be concerned about me selling photos I took of Danny Phantom without his consent?”

Danny’s glare only hardened as he watched Wes walk off.