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gamekids-firewolf · 2 years ago

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ANYWAY, since I'm still locked out of internet on my desktop, it took me a while to get to posting this here.

Aglaé is a great character he is such a bitch and I love him.

When your teachers told you that your drawings weren't representative of the 'real' you, whatever that meant, you should have known then that the world wasn't as kind to beasts like you as you'd been led to believe.

Your sister is a wonderful beast. Both of your parents love you for all the skeletal shadow creatures you draw. (They praise you for your likeness to the Vicario boy, another phrase you don't really understand but sounds much more positive than your teachers' gentle but patronising remarks.) And since your sister understands what you mean when you say, without hesitation, that you would marry the satyr most of the other kids called "scary" or "gross" in that movie everyone wad afraid of but you found captivating, you decide that it's not really you who's the problem.

The only one to understand you, outside of your family, is Damon.

He's bright and charming. You love watching him discuss his plans with Niculaie and your sister; there's so much excitement to every single one of his movements. He has a glow about him, a zest for life, you reason, that's so appealing. It's irresistible.

Even when you learn that he's already made his proposal to Niculaie (it makes sense, of course. The two of them have been inseparable since before they were school age; you tell yourself this again and again as you're sobbing into your pillow, your tiny little heart broken over this indisputable fact), you can't tear yourself away from him. Your sister is fond of him, and Niculaie isn't that bad really, and Damon exists at the centre of the whole world, it seems.

"I'm going to be the King of Hell." He tells you once while you're on the playground together, him climbing the jungle gym and you sitting in the sand and mushing together formless shapes. You look at him in earnest then as he continues like it's a declaration, like it's something he's got to get out there in the world as often as possible. "I'm the son of the devil. That's what the Rabbit and the Queen have told me. Nanny says it makes me a king, so one day I'm going to rule over all of Hell."

You watch him swing about from bar to bar, looping around so he can stand atop the thing. He does look very kingly. "I'll vote for you." You tell him.

He laughs because it's ridiculous. You don't understand what makes a king a king, but you know that it involves voting. You've heard your parents talking about it, how they've been undefeated in the polls as the heads of the French branch company for years. Even knowing this isn't how it works, though, Damon tells you, with a bright and wide smile, "Thanks. You can be my secretary if you want. A good king always has a great secretary."

(His teeth were crooked then. You can't recall exactly when he returned one day from a trip to Italy and his teeth were perfectly straightened out, but you know he had crooked teeth for a long time.)

(You know a lot of his looks were crooked for a longer time than he likes admitting.)

Once Abraham gets enveloped into your little fold, you finally feel like you might have a chance. Niculaie was never interested in being the Queen of Hell, as Damon kept referring to him, but he's very invested in being the bride to a Huntsman. Even if Abraham wasn't pretty cool and a lot of fun to play made up games with, this fact alone would make you happy with him regardless of anything else. You've been reading every book you can get your hands on (horror are your favourites, though they all end in disappointment, as the monster is usually slain at the end instead of married off or otherwise alive and happily its monster self) and you know you're adequately prepared for any such courtship ritual.

Unfortunately, you hit a snag; Damon loves both Niculaie and Abraham in equal measures.

Damon isn't interested in marrying a lowly secretary.

"You are not just some lowly secretary." Damon tells you when you ask what worth being his secretary actually has one night.

This sleepover has been trying enough, from Abraham getting into a full-on brawl with your sister (for the fun of it, of course, but it still led to a lot of bandaids and bruises) to Niculaie insisting you not watch the very fun and bloody vampire movie you had picked out, but this was the last straw and so you spilled your guts to him when it was just the two of you who were awake. He confessed to you that he considered both Niculaie and Abraham as marriage candidates ("The King of Hell can have two brides!" He proclaimed) and you just broke.

"The secretary is the one who's really in charge." He tells you quite confidently despite the clear contradiction he's painting with his words. "They're always the one making the schedules, deciding what's worth a king's time, and all that."

"But you wanted to be king." You point out.

"I trust you with my whole life, Aglaé." He tells you with a huge grin. (He tells you without realising how much he's manipulating you with that charm of his.) "That's why I want you to stick by my side. You're so smart, you can help us make sure nothing gets in our way."

He's too earnest. You're absolutely putty in his hands.

And so you agree and leave matters at that. It doesn't solve the underlying issue, that you want to be his bride and he won't even consider you for that position, but you suppose, in the end, it's for the best. A self-proclaimed King of Hell doesn't really promise to be a faithful husband, anyway. You continue being his friend and train yourself out of that biting jealousy that rears up every time he grows too lovesick over Niculaie and Abraham.

Abraham is a great actor. He plays around with you and your sister as if you're all taking part in the most dire of situations, then he'll have both of you laughing until your sides split as he pivots suddenly to the ridiculous. He's wild and untamed and you can see why Niculaie and Damon love him as much as they do, even if he's not really your type.

The three of them take theatre classes together and perform in all the school plays. You and your sister attend every single one. Damon is captivating, of course, but whenever Niculaie and Abraham are playing off one another, they hold all of the crowd's attention.

(They're the perfect couple, really. So what if Abraham's dad holds some stupid grudge against Niculaie's dad? The two are just so perfect with each other that you aren't surprised when they start acting closer than simple friends.)

("If you thought you were doing a good job of hiding it, you really weren't." You told them when they finally admitted to you that they had decided to become official boyfriends. You stayed with Damon that night as he gushed and lamented in equal measures over the happiness of his friends.)

You weren't invited on their camping trip the summer before they entered the Boarding School. It was totally a spur of the moment thing, to be fair, but neither you nor Gaëlle were invited. They're only out in the mountains for three days before they're brought back much against their wills and you don't see Abraham again until school starts proper.

It's undeniable that Abraham has come back wrong. He no longer recognises you, Damon, or Niculaie as friends; he snaps at all of you, proclaims that he'll hunt you all down as a Huntsman rightly should. And, this time, it's not just an act he's putting on for fun. He really means it.

(There's something different about his eyes. You tend to notice the way light catches on certain parts due to staring at Damon all the time; his eyes are sharpened past believable reality, too. His teeth are too perfectly straight. His face is sculpted to a maximum charm that never seems one hundred percent genuine. And now it's Abraham and his eyes and how there's something not quite real about them.)

(You remember that brief time in your childhood when Damon wore glasses. He needed them to even see past his own face, but then he returned from one of those trips and suddenly his eyesight was all better. He hated those glasses anyway. Even Gaëlle noticed that one.)

Niculaie absolutely breaks. And Damon does his best to catch all the pieces, but there's no way to mend a heart so shattered.

"Abe's dad did something to him." Damon tells you one day as he and Niculaie are hanging out after classes.

Gaëlle and their new friend, a surly looking boy named Jonathan who keeps to himself, sit around the table as well, all of you pondering what went wrong with Abraham after the distraction of the boardgame didn't work. It sits woefully to the side now, in the middle of Damon's turn. You ask, "Do you know that for certain?"

"Who else could have brainwashed him like this?" Niculaie asks in return, voice quiet and venemous. It's not aimed at you, the guy is much too gentle to ever aim so much vitriol towards his friends. He's always hated Abraham's father, however. All of you do, for very good reasons.

"He's never been to Italy, has he?" Gaëlle asks, looking pointedly at Damon.

Damon shakes his head. "It was just me and Nicu who got to go. Abe logged in over here somewhere."

"Why would going to Italy change anything?" Niculaie asks, sinking down against the table in his distress. "It was just a silly little game we played. Abe even made up most of the rules for it."

Damon's expression twists in distaste. "Yeah. Just a game." He agrees.

(You've heard him complain about the Vicario boy. He never wins against the kid who's younger than him, younger than you, and so scared that he's usually crying every time they play. But Damon can't win against him and it drives him crazy.)

(You think it's a good thing. Even a King needs to be humbled sometimes. You'll even tell him that to his face when he gets too annoying about it.)

"Can't change his mind now, since he's brainwashed or whatever." Jonathan points out. He reaches past Damon and moves his piece on the board, taking an illegal turn for the hell of it, it seems. "If he snaps out of it and comes to his senses, then great. If he doesn't, though, nothing to do about it besides move on and keep living."

His positive nihilism doesn't settle Damon or Niculaie's nerves. You and your sister, however, accept this readily. "Well said." You praise him, leaning forward to move your own piece in an illegal turn.

"We'll support you, Nicu." Gaëlle says, taking her (illegal) turn after you. Her smile is always gentler with him; she regrets showing off all her teeth and making him cry when you were younger. It restrains her beauty, but that never seems to matter to anyone else.

Niculaie and Damon agree with this as well, and in the end you continue your game from where you left off. The rest of the year is filled with reports on just how drastic Abraham's changes turn out to be (you share a good laugh with Damon over the fact that he literally tried chasing down the car Niculaie was carried home in once; what even was he planning to do if he managed to catch it?) and getting better acquainted with this Jonathan fellow.

"What'cha reading this time?" He asks you one evening as the two of you settle in for a loud night of partying.

Damon's parties are always over the top and crowded, it comes with being the Kingpin of wherever he attends, but it's nice to have solidarity with one other person now. It's nice to see someone else just as aggravated by the popularity when it was never within your nature to begin with. You're a secretary, after all, meant to pull the strings from behind the scenes. "It's a romance this time." You tell Jonathan as you show him the title on the cover: 'The One from Caracossa'. You'd show him the pages, but it's in French since you're still working your way through this author's catalogue. "It's about a roommate from another world coming to live in an unsuspecting human's home and claiming it for their own."

Jonathan nods along appreciatively. "Sounds interesting. Surprised you already finished 'The Witch's Tower'."

He remembers the titles you tell him. It's what mostly cemented him within your good graces. (That, and he's always polite to your sister, even if he's disinterested in females in general.) "That was a shorter story." You say with a smile. "Next up on my list is 'The Ivies'."

"I'll leave you to it, then." Jonathan says with a little chuckle. He gives you the time to yourself as he pores over his own notebook, filled with all sorts of incomprehensible scribbles and chemical formula.

He's a scientist through and through, you've read enough over his shoulder to know this, but it still strikes you as an odd sticking point about him. He's hiding something more than his lack of interest in heteronormativity, you just can't place your finger on what.

He does, though, leave you to read until Damon strides his way over to get you involved in some silly party game, so you never look further into it. Jonathan is allowed his own secrets just as you're allowed yours.

It is ridiculous, of course, how adamant Jonathan is about his friendship with William Ernest (his roommate) being purely intellectual. Everyone else never bothers to question him on it either, however, so you hold your tongue and allow him his deniability while he can still claim it.

The year you enter the Boarding School, several new elements are introduced. One of them is that Damon gains himself a new crush in a fantastic manner. (You can't help but replay the scene in your mind from time to time; him going up to her so confidently and her punching him in the face for even daring to speak to her. If you weren't so convinced you'd be punched next, you'd love to shake hands with this legendary Paige Philips.) Another element is that this interest in a girl who has no interest in returning the sentiment brings her roommate, one Natasha Zima, crashing into your life. (And it is a crash. The way she wiggles right in-between you and your sister as if she's been your middle sibling this whole time, it's baffling. None of your unkind remarks or active disinterest dissuade her from her endeavours. She's here to stay and proud of it and in the end you can't help but admire that type of commitment.)

The final element is, of course, your introduction to the Wolf.

Petel Vitayev is an intriguing beast. You watch them bite and snarl as if they themself are flesh and blood the wolf they claim to be. You see the way they growl when raising their hackles and wonder, quite dementedly, what it might be like to ruffle them up purposely.

(It has nothing to do with jealousy. You rid yourself of most of that back when you made peace with Damon's inability to settle for a single love interest, after all. The way he hangs off this wolf, the way he drags them into your established group of friends like they absolutely have to belong by decree of the King, don't factor in at all to how much you wish to see this wolf bite and make it bleed.)

(Perhaps you've done away with the pretense of the whole thing by this point. You've been called beautiful to a nauseating degree and the only ones who see the true sharpness to your teeth are this gang Damon's drawn together, so you stopped playing polite and showed those fangs to those who refuse to respect them.)

Either way, you and Vitayev butt heads more often than you'd like to admit.

Worse still, Damon always, always, sticks up for the Wolf's defence.

"They're capable of fighting for themself, you know." You tell him one day as the two of you sit in his house. He's invited you over to study a few things for the upcoming History exam and you needed the refresher anyway. "They're a wolf. Untamed and beastly."

"You tend to go for the throat when you choose to battle." Damon says in reply, looking up from his papers and equally annoyed as you are about this. "Your cuts are always deepest and I'm sure he takes that as a challenge."

You wrinkle your nose in even stronger distaste. "I can fight my own battles, too." You stress.

"There shouldn't be any fighting in the first place." Damon sighs, as if this whole thing is more troublesome than it is personally offending. "I wanted to carve out a place of understanding and welcome for monsters like us, not create an even more hostile working environment."

He doesn't quite understand. He never will, you suppose. He's flawless and beauty and shined to an unnatural sheen and still, and still, and still, he insists he's a monster.

He's most like you in that sense; all roses on the outside, nothing but thorns on the inside.

"You're a snake." You tell him.

It's not ridicule. It's not really fondness, either. It's just a fact. He still frowns at you funny, unsure of exactly what you're communicating when you tell him this. "Is there something wrong with that?" He asks in the end.

You want to grab his face and kiss him. You want to punch him out just the same as Philips did. Perhaps then he'll understand what effect this endlessly oozing charm he has takes on others. "It's just a fact." You say in the end.

Petel doesn't stay with your group, too enamoured with Philips and her rebellion against the Kingpin. You see it as a battle of egos; her style of ruling is just more appealing to an unruly wolf like them. You've lived with Damon for so long now that you're not sure how you might deal with someone else trying to usurp his position.

A year passes and you continue your stalemate with this flaring emotion burning inside you. Damon enjoys his time at the top, Natasha keeps acting more familiar than she has any right to, and Abraham continues to be an asshole.

The arrival of the Vicario boy is what tips the scales. You're sure of it.

Suddenly, Damon has trouble keeping his cool and collected demeanour. His face slips often enough that it's surprising no one else comments on it; perhaps they're all too afraid by this point. (Or maybe you're the only one actually paying attention enough to see it.) The way he squints at the boy as if it's hard to see him, the slight show of his teeth still being a little crooked at the tops; maybe you're the one seeing things that aren't really there? Abraham's eyes, too, tend to act up in the vicinity of the Vicario boy, a reminder that there's something wrong with him every time you see him around the school. Vicario can't help but scream at every little thing that so much as makes too loud a noise or slips by too quickly, which is just…odd.

He's so different than the kid you'd built up in your head. Surely, you said to yourself, the one whom Damon could never defeat would have much more intimidating a presence. Surely, there's no way Damon lost again and again and again (enough to make him hate this poor kid to the point of actively encouraging Fiamma and Charon to fuck with him like they do) when he's the meekest little thing you've ever seen.

There's some sort of trick to it, you reason. There has to be.

But whenever you get the chance to interact with him, he flees as soon as he possibly can. Like he's nothing but the personification of fear.

(It doesn't help that, when you do manage to exist in his vicinity for even a minute, that beastliness flares up inside you. Vicario seems attached more so than the others to Petel and you're still dying to poke the wolf until they burst from that flesh prison of theirs. You poke and prod Vicario in that stead and nothing comes of it because he always flees.)

(There's clearly something wrong about him. You just can't figure out what it is until the game is activated.)

Right, the game. That's the other reason why you're convinced Vicario tipped the scales with his arrival.

Damon never paid the rumour of the towers any mind before this. "They just hold a bunch of boring janitorial stuff." He said to all of you consistently every time one of you brought it up. "Ain't nothing in there that'll shut the school down or whatever. Besides, they're always locked for a reason."

He dismissed it every time.

But now that Vicario's arrived, all of a sudden he wants to break into them and expose what's inside.

"Why are you fixated on this?" You ask him at lunch one day, after another one of his attempts to rally your whole gang into action. "What's in there can't be that damning."

"Especially not for such a high profile kid like Vicario." Jonathan agrees.

Damon shakes his head at the two of you, already upset about his whims going unanswered for a whole month. "It's not just about destroying Vicario." He assures you, lying through his (perfectly straight) teeth as he does so. "It's about having fun with it. You'll see one we get in there. It's gonna be more than just a little bit of petty revenge on my part."

(Maybe that's why you get stuck with the Thief instead of the Prince. It was just bad timing, just Damon's zealousness to get there first. Really, though, it was just karmic retribution for his own animosity towards Vicario himself.)

(You imagine sometimes what it might be like were your gang to handle the other one instead. What it might be like bouncing off his incompetence and wide-eyed wonder instead of dealing with her viciousness and lack of all other thoughts. She's as fixated on her goal for destruction as Damon and it's fitting for that reason, but you can't help but wonder about a softer fate.)

"How can it even be revenge? You said there's just a bunch of janitorial equipment in there." You say to Damon at the time.

His expression goes a bit weird. Like there's something he wants to say, but is blocked from doing so. "You'll get it when you see what's inside." He says.

You do not, in fact, get it once you see the scanners and the computer. But that all falls by the wayside once Jonathan manages to pull out one Vektoria Ketxiah and upends all of your perceptions about what this was supposed to be.

Vektoria is a whole different beast from anything you're used to. She's the thing you were most afraid of; she struts in like she owns the place and immediately starts dishing out orders, as if you're all indebted to her somehow. As if she's the new ruler of the school and all of you just so happen to be her willing peons.

"You agreed to assist me in my endeavours the moment you stopped me from completing my goals." She tells all of you later at lunch, after she's been formally introduced as a new transfer and has declared all of you as her gang members. (No one is pleased about it.) "You stopped me from deleting that Prince and settling our score, therefore you have to take retribution by helping me get back to his Kingdom to delete that instead."

"Can't you delete it from the level select hub if you really wanted?" Natasha asks, hesitant to do so.

It's a valid point. One you've thought of before, too. Vektoria's black eyes glint with an unobstructed malice as she says, "The chase is the fun part. Besides, what sort of Thief would I be if I didn't steal victory right out from under him when he least expects it?"

Damon sighs and says, "Video game logic."

"I don't think you should really be deleting a whole level of the game in the first place, let alone one of the main characters." Niculaie points out meekly.

Vektoria scoffs at him. "Him, a main character? He's more a footnote than anything so grand."

"He's a Prince, though." Jonathan points out.

"Won't deleting important data make the system go all screwy?" Natasha tries next.

Vektoria goes right back to that malice in her grin. "I'm counting on it." She tells all of you.

So there's one instance of intended murder you can jot down on your list. You're surprised you even need one, but you suppose that's how your life has been trending anyway with each escalation. You go back to your book and mumble an aggravated, "Don't expect us to be of much help, then."

Her whole attitude really doesn't gel that great with the cohesion your group has built up. Damon is the uncontested leader. Even Ian and Nick understand this. Yet she barges right in and expects all of you to follow her every command with zero explanation or building of any good faith.

(For what, for what, for what? You keep screaming it in your head, you can't understand what drives her to be this at odds. Is it contrariness for the sake of it? Misplaced rebellion? For what does she parade around and act like the most important player in the world for? For what is she expecting to accomplish by destroying the most interesting thing to happen to you so far at this Boarding School? For what??)

Needless to say, your ventures into the actual game are ruled by just as much chaos as expected.

"Our path lies ahead." Vektoria announces while you, Natasha, Niculaie, and Damon are all too busy taking in the sights of the white foliage, the depth of field, the inmersiveness of this game, to properly listen. Vektoria's outfit is more that of a fencer than a thief, though that might be what her hood (or is it a scarf?) is for. "Try to keep up, now. We've got a long road ahead of us."

She takes off into the forest, faster than any of you can hope to follow.

That day, you all end up getting kicked by two mishandled Tigers. Jonathan can't even help all that much, the system being as incomprehensible as it is.

As she storms out of her centre scanner ("Only I'm allowed to use this one." She told you as you entered for the evening. "It was built for me."), she screeches, "Why didn't any of you follow my lead?"

She tries her best to stay on her feet, but the momentum is too much. She skids to stop and instantly collapses to the floor in a heap. One hissing, miserable heap of a computer program. (She's just a program, you have to remind yourself; being as infuriating as she is seems to be enough of a trick to make you think she's just another person.) Jonathan sits back from the computer and says to her, "You didn't exactly make for an easy to follow target."

"We got swarmed by enemies!" Natasha points out next.

"How come you didn't head back and help us out?" Damon asks, tutting. "That's bad form for a leader."

"I'm the one you need to worry about keeping safe." She huffs in reply, managing to at least sit up so as not to be in a heap anymore. "I'm your guide through this experience. If I jump into a fight and get kicked out, then there'll be no progressing until the next day."

It's the excuse she'll parade around every single time and you hate it a little more with each instance. She refuses to help you during battles, leaving things mostly to you and Damon (it takes Natasha a few tries to get used to her wings and Niculaie has no arms at all for some reason) and the both of you are too close range to avoid getting away with some of the crazy manoeuvres you do.

The first time Niculaie goes Berserk, you end up getting taken out first.

"This is fucked up." You declare as you sit with Jonathan, Natasha, and Damon, waiting for AIR to do something about your friend who is still very much trapped inside this game.

(Vektoria couldn't wait. Of course she couldn't. That girl can hardly sit still for her classes, let alone wait for someone she doesn't see as more than an asset to be used for her own gain.)

(Even now, the thought of her ruling style makes you want to drag your claws down something fleshy and make it bleed.)

"They've only ever considered him a vampire." Damon says, equally as upset as you are.

Natasha asks, "Why is he a vampire, anyway? He hates being cast as one."

Jonathan grimaces, understanding the lack of control any of you have in your inheritances. Damon is the King of Hell, you're the Secretary to the King, Niculaie is a Vampire, and Jonathan is the duplicitous lawyer. You say to Natasha, "Why are you a bat girl?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. I've always thought bats were cool, I guess?"

"Our builds were predetermined." Damon points out again, doing his best to fight this misconception Natasha's built up.

She huffs at him, hands to her hips. "Paige says that Petel's a wolf and Hammy's a hunter, though. Those are exactly what they wanted to be."

Intrigued, you ask, "What about Vicario?"

"He's a fire." Damon answers.

Jonathan cranks up his sarcasm as he says, "And Frank's a necromancer or a doctor or something like that. Perfect sense."

It doesn't really answer much of anything, but you suppose it doesn't really have to. It's a weird game with weird rules in a weird place. (It's just something you have to deal with now in order to get rid of Vektoria.) Damon won't come right out and say anything about it, but you've realised that there's a block on his ability to do so and as such you refrain from prying too hard.

(All the answers he could give aren't desirable anyway. Part of you knows this so inherently that it's so much easier to pretend like this game has no deeper meanings that you kinda even forget about it in the first place.)

It takes another hour for this game to finally spit Niculaie out. You and Damon carry him home and Damon even walks him right up to the door. You stand outside the gates and wonder just what happened to make him hate his legacy so much. Besides the obvious, that is.

Abraham has a great reason to hate everything to do with his father. Well, he did before this sudden change he went through, at least. Niculaie, however, is descended from vampires and that's cool as shit. You just can't understand his reluctance towards it.

When you meet up with the other half of this gaming squad, you don't really agree with Damon's assessment. Vicario isn't fire so much as he's surrounded by fire. It isn't until the final stretch of the White Forest do you actually understand just how literal it is, when you're bouncing off his raised wall and backing away as fast as possible.

"That took a real chunk outta your health." Jonathan reports from above as you're swearing behind your teeth. Natasha is the next one to encounter these flames as they crash down on top of her like a wave from the ocean. "Whatever that is, be careful with it."

You don't get a chance to reply with something sarcastic, as a little chat between you, Natasha, Frank, and Petel leads you to racing the wolf to the end of the Forest.

It's probably the most fun you've had so far in this miserable experience. It reminds you of the games you used to play with Abraham and your sister. Back when you, Damon, Niculaie, and them were all you cared about in this world. The end of the level isn't anything spectacular, but it is a definitive end and you stand there staring out into its abyss with Petel and Frank until Vektoria comes crashing through.

Watching Vicario wall her off and ultimately defeat her is so, so satisfying. Especially after she attacked you and Natasha for no good reason.

Less satisfying is the news that Vicario destroyed Damon again, but you understand why now. Vicario is, indeed, fire in person form.

"We had a good run of it, don't you think?" Natasha asks as she, Niculaie, and you make the trek back to your last checkpoint because Jonathan can't be bothered to pull you out from where you are.

"We'll just have to try again later." Niculaie agrees.

You nod along, saying, "They're done, so only AIR can stop us now."

"And Vektoria." Jonathan says in aggravation.

Natasha laughs while you and Niculaie groan. Even Niculaie can't find it in himself to tolerate her. That's the level at which you all find yourselves with this computer program. Damon is similarly unenthused over all this, though for completely separate reasons.

Niculaie, Damon, and you all have to walk home in the dark of the evening, snow falling gently all around you. It's never really struck you before how the chill can bite to the bone, but having clashed with a wall of fire makes that disparity in temperature stand out more than ever.

"I get it now." You say to the air, to the cloudy and dark skies above, to the space around Damon instead of at him directly. It's a delicate topic. You might as well respect that for once. "How Vicario is strong enough to best all of us."

Niculaie nods along, growing despondent. "He can't lose." Niculaie says. "He was always very clear about that."

"He's a damn menace is what he is." Damon grumbles, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "All that power, and for what? A miserable little coward like him?"

"Fear is a great motivator." You counter. "It's what's kept humans alive for centuries."

Niculaie pauses to give it some thought, though Damon waves dismissively. "What's he trying to prove, anyway? That he's able to survive? Fat lot of good it's doing him."

"Why do any of us survive?" Niculaie asks. The sincerity in his tone gets Damon to stop dead in his tracks. When he turns to look back at Niculaie, his red eyes are blown wide with actual fear. Niculaie's are full of something menacing. A knowledge of something too painful to speak aloud in no uncertain terms. "We've all been through the process. Vicario may be the only one so personally acquainted with it, but we'd all be better off forfeiting our lives than continuing as we are."

Damon surges forward and grabs onto Niculaie's arm. "I'm not losing you." He says. He's desperate. It makes his form quiver, the uncertainty disrupting that perfection almost to the point of shattering.

Niculaie says in an affirmation of sorts, "You won't. Not yet."

You can't help but be fascinated as you watch. (You can't help but be disgusted.) "If persisting is the only thing left, no wonder you can't understand." You say, breaking their moment with one another and forcing them to look at you. "You reside upon a throne of privilege. He's been cast from the good graces of his peers. You may come from similar places, but you are far from the same."

You wonder if they can see the depths of your displeasure as they stare at you. You wonder if you've managed to convey even a fraction of your devotion through that alone. Damon releases Niculaie and backs away a step with a soft, "Sorry. Just. I don't want you to shatter again."

Niculaie says, "I'll be stronger." He smiles and looks your way, surprisingly. "We both have wonderful friends to put things in perspective when we stumble."

"He just called me a privileged twat, though."

Damon runs a hand through his hair as he sighs. The trick of the darkness makes you see sharper nails there than he actually has. You think about his less perfect appearance in the game (crooked teeth, crooked horns, red fur and hooved feet, that beauty mark taking up half his face and nearly crossing out both his eyes) and close the distance between the three of you in order to hook your fingers into his coat pockets. "A King needs humbling at his most prideful." You remind him.

Niculaie laughs and Damon rolls his eyes, but the two next envelop you into a warm hug. You're not really one for physical contact, preferring to share that only with your sister, but you think this is nice. You could get used to this.

They're both friends of yours. You would fight to protect their bared claws and unruly fangs.

It's what a great secretary might do for their King of Hell.

#Game Kids #Game Kids need their own tag #Aglaé Desrosier #Damon Asheford #Niculaie Vladimirescu #Jonathan Wallace #Gaëlle Desrosier #Vektoria Ketxiah #Natasha Zima #Abraham van Helsing IV #my writing #Spoilers #Fire and Wolf #Fire and Wolf: Game Kids Book 1

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars CXLI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: That’s right PoA gifs are making a comeback -Danny

Words: 3,121

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Three: A Brief Talk.

Mel was packing up the stuff she'd taken to the mission when someone knocked on the front door.

She heard Erick said he'd get it a second later. Mel put everything in her bag and hung it over her shoulder, rushing out of her room. Dumbledore stared at them with a smile.

"I must say you worked faster than expected."

"We did our best — Oh!" Erick went to the living room and grabbed his bag, drawing out the men's wands. "These are from the death eaters — maybe you'll be able to track them down?"

"I could, if Ollivander hadn't gone missing," Dumbledore said sadly. Mel didn't ask about it, she wasn't ready for any more bad news. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Mel approached. "I'm upset."

Dumbledore gazed at her quietly.

"I said I'd tell you everything and I will, but you must wait a bit longer. We'll visit Harry's house tonight, and pay a visit to Slughorn."

"You said we couldn't talk to him."

"This time will be different. This time I'll go with you."

"How wonderful," Mel said sarcastically.

"I'll get my stuff," Erick gave her a look that was meant to stop her rudeness.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, "do close the door on your way out, Mr Flint."

She followed him out in silence, her uncle approached the entrance of the Dursley's house and knocked on it.

"Were you in danger?"

"No."

"Then you know I didn't lie."

"You didn't tell us everything," She replied. "You keep withholding information and I'm not some disposable thing you can use as you please —"

"That was never my intention," Dumbledore interrupted. "By the end of the year you'll know all, and you'll understand why I've acted this way."

Mel seriously doubted that but she'd been proven wrong before, she was willing to hear his side of the story.

Mr Dursley complained all the way to the door, he opened it abruptly, freezing at the sight.

"Good evening. You must be Mr Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Harry rushed down the stairs and stopped at a considerable distance from his uncle. He looked torn between amusement and panic, holding a pair of trainers in one hand and a telescope in the other.

The young witch eyed Mr Dursley up and down and held back a smirk. He was wearing a reddish dressing-gown. The last time she'd been standing this close to the man he'd looked gigantic, now he was barely able to reach her nose.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said happily. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times. It is a long time since my last visit, I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing. What do you think, Mel?"

"Oh, it's been years," Her voice trembled with contained laughter. "The house looks exactly as I remember, though. Is your chimney still the same after the Weasleys burst through it?"

Harry snorted at this, and this caught the old man's attention.

"Ah, good evening Harry... Excellent, excellent."

"I don't mean to be rude —" Mr Dursley spoke.

"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia— Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Mel looked at the boy, it had been almost two years since she'd last seen him: He was muscly big, with the body of a trained wrestler. She didn't like that he'd be able to kill a child with his bare hands and call it a sport.

"Shall we assume that you have invited us into your sitting room?

Dumbledore crossed the hall and she followed, Harry jumped the last steps and approached them.

"Aren't — aren't we leaving?" He inquired.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first. And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?" The Dursleys were all glaring at them.

"Yes, I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

"We may as well be comfortable."

"Sir," Harry started anxiously. "What happened to your — ?"

"Later, Harry. Please sit down."

The boy looked at her searching for an answer, but she had none. It was her first time seeing Dumbledore's injury as well. She walked up to the armchair and stood next to where her uncle had seated. Harry sat in front of them.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment, but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-coloured liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore.

Mel took her glass and inhaled the sweet scent before drinking it, hiding her grin. She was starting to feel less annoyed now that Dumbledore was torturing the Dursleys with his displays of magic.

"Well, a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all, I must tell you, kids, that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago."

"Oh. Right..." Harry muttered.

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward. You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit a few of Sirius's personal possessions. Emily knows this of course, but Sirius left the other half of his gold to you and your brother, Mel. As well as the rest of his belongings, which you'll be able to use once you're of age."

It was obvious Leon was going to inherit stuff from Sirius, the man was eager to provide for his new family, he wanted to be there, make sure his son would never be left to his luck.

"The slightly problematic part of the legacy —"

"His godfather's dead?" Mr Dursley interrupted. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore without further explanation. "Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place. To the three of you."

"He's been left a house?" Mr Dursley questioned.

"He's not done talking," Mel snapped, Mr Dursley turned purple at her statement.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it."

"Me neither," Mel accepted. "I don't need it, nor I think my brother will want to use it once he's old enough."

"Brother?" Mrs Dursley asked in bewilderment.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Your brother should be the one to take it, but we can't be sure if the rules apply since Emily and Sirius decided to use her last name. While Sirius' will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"I bet there has," Harry lamented.

"Quite. And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry stood up in distress.

"No..."

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either. The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally, we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if we're allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately, there is a simple test."

"Will you get these ruddy things off us?" Mr Dursley yelled.

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry... But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

Mel left her glass on the coffee table and waited.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited..."

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory.

"Kreacher," said Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the brats and the Black bastard! Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"As you can see," said Dumbledore over the yelling, "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry with repulsion. "I don't want him."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"No," Mel replied, "we need him far from them."

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T !"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry demanded.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore brightly. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You three are the rightful owners of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Wonderful, I own a haunted mansion," Mel sat heavily on the armrest of Dumbledore's chair.

"Do we have to keep him with us?" Harry asked.

"Not if you don't want to. If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, let's do that. Er — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

"You're not allowed to leave your duties unless we ask you otherwise," Mel added.

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"Good. There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements —"

"No," said both of them, then Harry added, "He can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted. He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm..." Harry blushed.

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore smiled.

"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry, picking up his telescope and trainers.

"I'll help," Mel said.

It was the first time she'd ever been in his room. The only time she'd managed to look around was when they rescued him on the Ford Anglia. It was evident this was the only place in the house Harry was allowed to exist freely: A bit messy from running around and packing everything in a hurry, but she didn't mind it at all.

"Cozy," She teased.

"Shut it," He replied, hastily picking up his stuff. "I should've known... of course he wouldn't leave me..."

"You had your reasons to doubt," She shrugged, then added. "We both do..."

Harry stopped and looked at her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. Mel helped him pack and soon enough everything was in place, she grabbed Hedwig's cage and smiled at the creature.

"Hi there..." She looked back at him. "I'll never forget the look on your uncle's face when we arrived, he looked so frightened!"

"I'm glad I don't have to stay," He picked up his stuff and guided her out. "Because he would murder me if I did..."

Mel snorted, following him to the hall. However, Dumbledore hadn't moved.

"Professor?" Harry spoke. "I'm ready now."

"Good. Just one last thing, then... As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time —"

"No," said Mrs Dursley.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"Ah," He smiled, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

"Preposterous," mumbled Vernon.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dumbledore's air changed, and although it wasn't obvious, he was once again emanating power, now more than ever he looked like a man no one should try to upset.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. I'm thankful Emily agreed to move in next door all those years ago and relieved a bit of Harry's misery. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you — ?"

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

Mel would've loved to add a few insults of her own, but she knew there was no use, they would never learn, would never feel guilty for treating Harry the way they did and to be honest, Dumbledore was right, Mel and her mother were his real family.

"Well... time for us to be off," said Dumbledore, standing up. "Until we meet again."

Mel looked at them one last time without saying anything, something in her felt different, there was a bittersweet emotion that kept her from enjoying herself, and at the same time stopped her from snapping.

"Bye," said Harry shortly.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the boy's trunk and owl. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak... just in case. And now, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Erick was waiting patiently against the front of her mother's car. His backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and when he saw them he quickly approached.

"All good?"

"Yes, we just wanted to chat a moment before leaving."

"Chat?" Erick raised a brow, he knew the Dursleys weren't friendly people.

"We'll explain later. C'mon, time to go."

"We're not taking the car?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It'll be faster if we use magic. Keep your wand at the ready."

"But I thought we're not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?" Harry asked.

"If there is an attack," said Dumbledore, "I give you and Mel permission to use any counter jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me... This will do."

He stopped at the end of the street.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Erick looked down briefly at his hand and paled.

"Professor, I passed my apparition test last month, I can take Mel so you don't tire yourself out."

The idea of Dumbledore 'tiring himself out' was laughable, but Mel didn't want Erick to feel stupid, and it appeared that Dumbledore was of the same mind.

"Very well, Mr Flint, if it's not much trouble..."

"It's not."

"You know where to go."

Erick offered his arm to her.

"Ready?"

"Like we have a choice," She groaned, firmly holding onto him.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @wlwmaximoff @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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shinyrockalaska · 4 years ago

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December birthday party

I planned to post it on December 22 but i forgot... Either way, here's a fanfic in honour of Charlie and Rowan's birthdays that are in December.

Summery: Mc and the friends are throwing a birthday party for both Rowan and charlie

Word count: 1.8k

"Listen up, everybody! Charlie's birthday was last week and- I always forget the exact date, but- Rowan's birthday will be soon since it's close to Christmas! We've gotta get going!"

"With what exactly?" Asked Jae. He was always suspicious with whatever plans MC came up with.

"With the surprise party, of course!" They said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We need to decide on a theme, place, time, the people we'll invite, who's in charge of the decorations and cake and snacks.. so pretty much, everything."

"We've still got like, almost a week to prepare everything.." Tonks complained. MC gathered all of them right before bed time and she wanted to go to sleep already.

"Anyone have any ideas for a theme?" MC continued.

"Toads!" Tulip yelled.

"Bowtruckles!" Barnaby chimed in.

"Fashion. It should definitely be about fashion." Andre added.

"Hmm.. cowboys..?" Talbott suggested.

MC did a face-palm and groaned, "no, no, no, you just proposed things you like. We need to think what Charlie and Rowan like!"

"Dragons and books, then," said Penny hesitantly.

"See, that's much better," MC agreed, "maybe dragons and trees? Or just.. fire?"

"It'll be lit!" Tonks snickered.

"Great! So who wants to be in charge of the decorations? It has to be fire themed!" MC continued

"I guess.. me? I'm already experienced, after the celestial ball.."

"I can help," Chiara and Liz said in unison.

"Perfect! Now let's decide on a time and place.. I think we can do it on the 22 of December.. any ideas for a place?"

"The Gryffindor common room," said Jae.

"The duelling club!" Diego added.

"The artefact room.." Ben tried to suggest.

"Seriously, guys! Don't propose places you like! How about the three broomsticks? Then Bill can come too, and we'll have butterbeers."

"Yes! And I can get more sweets from honeydukes," Tulip volunteered.

"Jae, I put you in charge of the cake," MC told him, and he tried to oppose, "why me? Can't Penny do it? Or literally anyone else?"

"After years of detention in the kitchen, I think you'll do great," they winked, remembering their adventure together, when they tried new recipes for Hagrid and Jae turned to be really good at cooking and baking, but made them promise not to tell.

"Fine," he murmured in respond.

"Can we go to sleep now?" Ben asked the question everyone wanted to ask.

"Not yet, we just have to decide on the most important thing.. how and who will keep Charlie and Rowan busy while we prepare everything, and then bring them to the three broomsticks?"

"You? You're the best at stalling, no offense," said Andre.

"I'll take that as a compliment.. alright, everyone knows what they're responsible for?"

"Yes.." they all groaned, wishing to go to sleep already.

"So don't forget.. we're meeting up in the three broomsticks in three days! I won't be there because I'll be with Rowan and Charlie so, Penny, I'm putting you in charge of making sure everything goes as planned, goodnight!"

There was a sound of tired whispers as they all walked back to their dormitories, aside from MC, who went straight to the owlery, to write and send a letter to Bill, asking if he could pass by for Rowan and Charlie's surprise party.

The next three days passed fast and strangely enough, uneventfully, except for that one time Ben almost exposed the plan.

Finally, the 22th of December has arrived, and at 4pm, when the rest of the group got together at the three broomsticks to prepare everything, MC walked with Rowan to meet Charlie at the library.

"You sure I'm the right study partner?" Charlie asked with honesty, "I'm not really good at studying.."

"Nonsense! You're my best friend, of course I'd rather study with you no matter what!"

"I thought I was your best friend?"

"You're THE best friend, Rowan. Everyone else is just my best friends, without THE.."

"Yeah, I'm not sure about that.."

"Anyway.. let's study!" MC shouted, causing Madam Pince to threaten to kick them out. Charlie still didn't felt like studying, he and Rowan exchanged looks, before Rowan spoke up, "But, we don't have any exams? Why would you want to study all of a sudden?"

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

"Quoting Rowena Ravenclaw won't help you get away without an answer!"

MC stood up, with their hands still on the table, and said, "you know, I just realized I never saw the both of you at the quidditch field... isn't that weird?" MC smiled nervously.

"I watch all of yours and Charlie's and Andre's matchs, what are you talking about?" Rowan tilted their head, the way they always do when they're confused. Which happens frequently around MC.

"But I never saw you together! You have so much to talk about, I mean, Charlie's an expert in quidditch and you're an expert of trees.. don't you want to talk about it?"

"That's a strange topic to discuss.." Charlie mumbled, "and the quidditch field is taken for one of the teams practice right now.."

"But if you insist," Rowan continued, "we can go around and look for broomes.."

"Wha- no! We can't! Because.. I umm.. promised Ben I'll help with that thing uh-"

"We saw him leaving the castle on our way to the library," said Rowan, "he said he's going to buy a new quill."

"Uh, right. I forgot. Do you want to help me pack my bags then?"

"I thought you're staying in Hogwarts for Christmas like always?" Rowan smiled, and MC panicked, what if they somehow know about the party?

"It still shouldn't be messy, and you know how my side of the dorm looks like, hehe.."

"I'm sorry, what's happening?" Charlie had zoned out half of the conversation and was now confused.

"Just MC acting mysterious all over again.." Rowan stared at mc with a suspected look.

"Aren't they always, though?" He shrugged.

"You know me.. the mystery of Hogwarts," MC laughed nervously.

Rowan and Charlie again looked at each other and then at MC, who still giggled.

"Anyway, do you need help packing, Charlie?"

"No, It's fine, I already did! I'm really excited to go back home and see my parents and Ron and Ginny again, and of course Bill! And the best part is I'll get so many presents! Christmas presents and birthday present, what can be better than that?"

"Yeah it's so nice your birthdays are close to Christmas, isn't it?" MC said, finally stopping Rowan's suspicions. "It is!" Rowan cheered, "I get to celebrate both Christmas and my birthday at home in the tree farm with my family! I miss mum and dad and my brother of course! He suppose to go to Hogwarts next year, isn't it exciting??"

"You have a brother? How come you never mentioned it?" Charlie wondered if he somehow missed this piece of information about his friend.

"Yes, and you'll meet him next year, I hope!"

"With your brother, Penny's sister and my brothers we'll have so many younger siblings here next year!"

"It's going to be a challenge," MC snickered, "I mean, we can barley keep them out of trouble now.." They all laughed, because it was true.

"So what time is it?" MC asked when the laughs faded.

"4 and a half.. why? Are we in a hurry?" Rowan asked.

"No no, I just remembered I told Ben- I mean, Penny, I'll meet her at the three broomsticks at 5 so.. hehe.." they chuckled.

"Why don't we just go and wait for her there, huh?" Rowan smiled mischievously, and MC gulped nervously.

"Rowan, you're too smart for this world," they patted them on the back, "let's kill time with a game of gobstons instead, okay?"

"Fine," Rowan finally gave up on trying to discover what MC is hiding from them.

They all walked to the courtyard and played gobstons for a while, just laughing and smiling until their stomach ache.

"Is it 5 already?" MC asked after a while, right before Charlie's turn.

"5 and a half actually," said Rowan, and before they could say anything else MC shouted, "what?! It's been a hour already?!"

"Time does fly when you're having fun.." Charlie mumbled, while thinking what can be the right move.

"We have to go! Now!"

"At least let me finish my turn!" Charlie whined as MC dragged with him and Rowan.

"Why do we even have to come with you to your meeting with Penny?" Rowan asked when they were near honeydukes.

"Well you know.. because.. it's just.. you see-" MC stalled, trying to earn some time while they're getting closer to the pub, "just get inside, alright?"

Rowan glared at them with one last suspection look as Charlie entered the pub without a doubt.

"Surprise!!!"

The friend's usual spot at the three broomsticks was filled with people. Friends, to be accurate. There were two dozens glass of butterbeer on the table, with a diverse selection of coulorful candies. The celling was decorated with paper dragons, flying around, roaring quietly, surrounded by trees, and you could notice some tiny paper books flying around above with brooms on their side, as well.

Rowan looked as if they were about to faint and Charlie was too ecstatic to talk.

"Wha- it's so- I-" Rowan eyes were filled with tears of joy, they never thought they'd have so many caring friends who would want to throw a birthday party just for them.

"This is so cool!" Charlie shouted, "are those dragons?!" He looked at the celling with an excited look.

"Just wait until we get home for Christmas.. mum's going to cry and hug you so much," Bill laughed, "seventeen is the most important age!"

"You can do magic!"

"You can apparate!"

"You're practically an adult!"

Everyone laughed and cheered. Rowan and Charlie were so far from being like all the adults they knew. They didn't changed much from that sweet anxious behavior they had in their first years at Hogwarts.

Bill raised his glass of butterbeer, "to Charlie, the best brother and the greatest quidditch player and the most dragon-excited person we know!" He laughed.

"And to Rowan!" MC snatched the glass of butterbeer out of Bill's hand, and raised it as well, "the best friend anyone could ever have. The loyal, ambitious, kind and smartest person I know!"

"Whooooohoooo!" Tonks applaused and they all drank their butterbeers and started to chat with each other.

Maybe it was the butterbeer, or the heat inside the pub, or maybe it was the fact that all their friends were together with them in one place, just laughing and smiling, happy for their friend's birthdays.

Whatever it was, it made both Charlie and Rowan feel warm inside.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #rowan khanna #charlie weasly #jacob's sibling #hogwarts mystery fanfic #hogwarts mystery fanfiction #birthday #penny haywood #bill weasley #hphm fanfic #hphm fanfiction #hphm fic

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itsbenedict · 3 years ago

Text

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 8

Welcome to the Hotel On-The-Floor, Yeah

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party identified the culprit behind the murders in Barley and Wheat, but... well, it's complicated. The culprit was apparently being coerced by a dragon, and they managed to talk him down rather than fight. If they want that to stick, though, they'll need some kind of plan to get rid of that dragon. And... is it really worth bailing this guy out, anyway?

Saelhen, Oyobi, and Vayen all start discussing their plans in Elvish, which it doesn't seem like Arnie understands. Oyobi advocates for just killing the guy, but is a little less keen on the idea once Vayen advocates for the same. Saelhen would rather give the guy a chance, and points out that there's not much point to killing him as long as the dragon is still around- they'll need an answer for that, and the answer to a dragon is probably just as good an answer to Arnie.

Looseleaf, oblivious to their Elvish chatter, describes the basic plan to Arnie.

Arnie: "So you're, what... you're gonna get the church involved somehow? What're you gonna tell 'em?" Looseleaf: "Well, probably also Deathseekers," Looseleaf thinks, out loud. "We'll tell them there's a dragon conducting sacrificial rituals at the site of an altar to the god of pain. We'll get the church involved by virtue of proving to them that there's a dragon fucking around with divine shit, and we'll get the deathseekers involved by convincing them that there's a dragon stacked to the gills with cool magic items, which we'll prove by bringing them one of said items." "The important thing is to get going as soon as possible, right? There's a time-limit here measured in, uh... human... corpses..." Arnie: "Wait, how are you gonna get one of its magic items?" Looseleaf: "How do you think, mister 'I work for the dragon so he gave me a bunch of magic items to serve his dread will'?" "We'll bring the deathseekers that magic cloak you said you had." Arnie: "Uh, that's..." "Mine, though."

Eventually, after a persuasion roll or two, Arnie agrees to loan them the cloak, as long as it comes back in one piece. He also tells them how to safely retrieve it from the laundry room- as long as they exchange some dirty laundry for the clean cloak, they'll be happy and won't attack. He's got plenty lying around downstairs, which he heads down to grab.

While he's downstairs, the party confers, and decides to all go together to the nearest city- Cauterdale- to ask the local Deathseekers for aid. They figure Arnie's not a flight risk, since he doesn't have anywhere to run and a draconic boss who'll hunt him down if he tries.

(As they prepare to leave, a natural 20 on a perception roll alerts Looseleaf that Vayen has ransacked Lumiere's personal library, stealing- specifically- Lumiere's books on gods and divine magic, for some reason. She doesn't make any objection to this, though- Vayen's a creep, but it's not like they weren't all on board with looting the dead guy's tower.)

With Arnie's bloodstained laundry in hand, Looseleaf heads upstairs and retrieves the cloak without incident. She tries it out, and...

The result of her crit failing her Wisdom saving throw on the magic item is... nothing, apparently. That's always good to hear! The cloak appears to work exactly as intended! She's wearing a very fancy outfit.

Further experimentation reveals a few limitations- first, the cloak's shape is illusory, so it can't become armor or anything with particular utility. Second, it can get overly literal if you ask it to copy an outfit outright- you have to use your imagination properly. Third, it seems to get tired the more you ask it to change, so there's some limit on how often you can update your wardrobe. Those appear to be the only drawbacks!

So, with Arnie temporarily kept from murdering people, the party gets back on the road.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: For caution's sake, Saelhen calligraphs a piece of paper to say WE HAVE NOT BEEN TORTURED TO DEATH, and sticks it on the door on the way out.

As they make their way northeast, they make some Animal Handling checks to keep hold of their giraffes, as something seems to spook them. Looseleaf gets a critical success and is able to calm her giraffe right away... but the party ranger, who is proficient in neither Animal Handling nor Nature nor even Survival, because what kind of monster hunter needs to know that boring crap, has no idea how to handle an overexcited giraffe and is thrown from her mount with a critical failure.

Benedict I. (GM):There's a small sign by the road, heading off west towards what appears to be an actual forest. The prairie is giving way to a somewhat hillier and more forested terrain here, but the forest is thicker than anything you've seen on your way there. And as you're approaching the crossroads marked by that sign, your giraffes all try to bolt for it. Looseleaf is able to realize that they've been forced to graze on grass for miles, and when they see the trees, they get overexcited. Vayen and Oyobi get completely thrown from their mounts, and you have to follow them down the road a bit to catch up with them and rein them in. Looseleaf: Haha, oh, well, hopefully they don't try and spend the rest of the whole day grazing a pit-stop is within tolerances but we really do have to make it to Cauterdale sooner rather than later. Many lives are on the line! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Good thing Looseleaf can radiate peace at them! Benedict I. (GM): Looseleaf is able to beckon them back before they completely get out of reach, and pretty soon you've got them calmed down- but you've lost some time. There's a choice to make here, now: continue on to Cauterdale, but make the last hour or so of the journey in the dark- or rest at the location marked on the map near here.

On the map, where the sign marked "Umbrella Village" points (shut up, I don't even play Resident Evil, don't worry about it), is simply a warning that reads "EVIL WITCHES- AVOID!!!"

Oyobi and Orluthe inform the others that "witches" usually means "druids"- and Zero cashes in something from character creation. Looseleaf's background as an academic provided her with a book on some historical topic, which was never allocated because at character creation he didn't know enough about the world to decide on something interesting. Here he declares it's a book on the history of druids!

Benedict I. (GM): Druids, from what you've read, are sort of like clerics. They channel a divinity of some sort- which is typically revered as Mother Nature, or Gaia, or... every druid you meet is going to have a different name for it, because while it needs to have a thing to call it by, it is emphatically not a god. Druids have a complicated relationship with Ccorde, who's ostensibly the goddess of environmentalism and hippy communing with nature type stuff- but most druidic traditions regard this as a false claim on a divine domain. Nature is untamed and wild and exists on its own terms, a vital force that is not to be tamed with rules- people must forge their own relationships with Nature. The author of the tome you acquired was herself a cleric of Ccorde, and the tone of the book is defensive on that subject. The author's curiosity outweighed that defensiveness, though, and there's a long section dedicated to the theoretical differences between the channeling of Nature and the channeling of Ccorde- in particular, there's no common dispositional element with druids. Whatever Nature is, it's willing to act through anyone who puts in the effort. The author didn't seem to know anything about animism, but you suspect druidic practice might be related in some way- that their nature-spirit-channeling abilities may be a form of animism. The book is unfortunately light on the practical details of druidcraft, as the author prefers that the reader eschew the practice in favor of fealty to Ccorde.

Okay! So, they head down the road to stay at the druid village for the night- and notice something odd on the way, after some Nature checks. They notice that the dirt road they're going down seems to divide the forest in two- between a sparse, ivy-choked pine forest to the northeast, and a dense, healthy-looking deciduous forest to the southwest. You usually don't get such a sharp delineation between forests like that.

And Looseleaf notices... that their map doesn't show a forest on the southwest side of the road. The road is supposed to just go along the edge of the pine forest. Also, Looseleaf can see the trees' spirits there, and there's something... not quite right.

Benedict I. (GM):The left side of the woods- there does seem to be some ambient magic. Your Sight Unseen ability doesn't exactly detect magic, so much as it lets you see spirits, including the spirits of spells- but what's going on here isn't a spell effect. It's just that the spirits of these healthy-looking deciduous trees don't quite match their physical forms. Their spirits seem... sickly? Frail? Like they're not full trees, not trees that grew in their places from fallen seeds. There's something false about them.

Looseleaf: When you said 'the left side of the road is full of healthy-looking deciduous trees and the right side is full of misshaped thorny things' you know what the first thing i thought was it was, 'the left side is the dangerous side.' i didn't say it out loud but i was totally thinking that, and i am glad to have been vindicated.

The weird forest doesn't seem to be attacking them, though, so they head onward towards Umbrella Village, which seems to be built entirely on the pine side of the road. It's kind of cool-looking- every inch of available space, on the lawns, roofs, and walls, is covered in fruiting vines and various plants. The whole village is a carefully-cultivated ecosystem.

The villagers seem surprised to have visitors- apparently it's not a common occurrence. They seem normal enough, though- while they don't have an inn, they direct the party to visit the village elder, who might know where the best place for them to spend the night is.

(Oyobi once again crit-fails her Animal Handling check, and is unable to prevent her giraffe from ripping a tomato plant off the side of someone's house, which gets her scolded. Why are you a ranger, Oyobi?)

They head down to the village elder's house, which is unique in not being overgrown with crops- and knock on the door.

The door is answered by a little lizardfolk girl, who doesn't have any idea what she's supposed to do about there being... people... here? People she's never seen before? Who don't live in the village? What???

Benedict I. (GM): "...Who...?" "GRANDMAAAAA," she calls back into the room. Which she didn't really need to do so loudly, because there's an elderly lizardfolk woman sitting right there next to a small fire.

Looseleaf: Oh, and Looseleaf was about to ask if the little girl was the elder. Never let external appearances color your preconceptions, and all that. Benedict I. (GM): "Eh?" "Gramma there's Mysterious People!" "They don't exist!" The old woman gets up. "Who's... oh, visitors?" The little girl looks confused. "Vizza-what?" Looseleaf:"Indeed, we are emissaries from the Faraway Phantom Lands of Nonexistence," Looseleaf says in deadpan to the girl. "Behold as my incorporeal voice from out of the thin air astonishes you!" To the old lady, Looseleaf says. "Excuse us. You must be the elder?"

They inquire about a place to stay for the night, and the elder... checks the weather. Looseleaf, who has Druidcraft as a racial ability, also checks the weather, using a fancy little snowglobe spell!

Looseleaf: "I'unno, does this help?" Benedict I. (GM): "Oh, goodness. I thought you were from outside- do they..." "That's very well-done, really, and you smell delicious, but..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: uh Benedict I. (GM): "Well, it ought to be fine." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...hmm," says Saelhen. Benedict I. (GM): "Just put your bedrolls out anywhere- we're not doing rain tonight." "Well, anywhere in town, anyway." "You shouldn't set foot in the Mysterious Woods." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Ma'am, rest assured that we have less than no interest in Mysterious Woods."

So the party beds down in some soft pine needles, making use of Looseleaf's recently-acquired Extremely Comfy Pillow and a few bedrolls. They have a druid elder's assurance that the elements won't be a problem, so... nothing wrong with camping!

And as they're going to bed, Looseleaf rolls a 21 on Perception.

Luckily, Looseleaf fails her unarmed strike roll, which would do no damage even if it hit because her strength mod is -1. So she does not do any damage to...

Benedict I. (GM): So, you kick out at the mouth full of sharp teeth. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Fwff, goes Looseleaf's puffy moth footsie. Benedict I. (GM): The mouth full of sharp teeth goes "Eeek!" and recoils before you make impact, and you see the little lizardfolk girl scamper away into the darkness. Looseleaf: "What." "Wh- how dare you bite me! I am an emissary of the Phantom Lands and all that or whatever." "Come back here and explain yourself to My Imperial Nonexistingness!"

The little girl, affronted, explains that if she's not real, then it's not bad if she bites her!

Vayen: Vayen stirs. "...Shouldn't kill a child," he mumbles. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...this is a new dream," remarks Saelhen. "Better than the dreams about dad." "Vayen's even deciding not to kill someone. This is super neat, subconscious, keep going."

Saelhen argues that maybe Gramma doesn't know what things taste good, because sometimes grammas think things that taste bad taste good, like bell peppers! The child has no defense against this devastating logic bomb, and scampers off into the darkness, indignant.

Next time: the journey to Cauterdale, and the menace of the bobbledragon.

#twofaced jewel #tfj log

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studylustre · 4 years ago

Note

hey bb!! you're kinda a queen on here for giving advice so I hope you don't mind me seeking your advice.... at the moment I've been feeling really lost, I'm way behind on my peers this age in almost every aspect of life,, a reason for this is that my mental health is really bad and I lost my teen years to depression. Therefore now I can't even seem to be making friends or hold a normal conversation with adults due to my social anxiety. I used to be intelligent but I think now I'm just stupid ~~~

~~~ my dad keeps telling me how much I suck compared to everyone else, not every day but often enough that I know I'm definitely not fulfilling his expectations and I feel like I'm never going to be able to catch up on that. I've spent a lot of time on my own, I still do and I don't know how to change that, how to build my own life so I'm not dependent on my parents anymore and can move out after I've finished high school. I just would love to know your opinion on that. Please don't judge me too harshly skskshvff :')) I just would love to know how to build your own life apart from your own family, how one can be able to live with their own thoughts without getting depressed hehe,, idk I guess I carry a lot of guilt with me and I've never been able to overcome it and that's why I'm stuck not being able to move forward. Thank youu if you've read this!! I apologise that this is so unnecessary long, I'd be really grateful for some advice!! I'm a new anon btw,, :) sending u love🥺✨🌈

hi angel!! i don’t mind at all, thank u for stopping by and opening up to me about this bc it’s definitely not easy to talk to people about ur inner thoughts!! there’s quite a lot to discuss here so apologies if my response is all over the place. i first want to address what u said about feeling behind ur peers - i don’t want to dismiss ur concerns bc ur feelings are always valid and this is a v v v common feeling so ur definitely not alone in thinking this, but it’s honestly okay. this is something that took me a while to start internalising (still working on it) but there really are no rules in life!! there’s no set timeframe for you to have to achieve anything by. everyone’s path is different - we all have different dreams and goals and resources and so we all experience things at differently and at different times. life is not a competition and u don’t have to compare urself to ur peers!! also, don’t forget that even the people who u think are thriving and living their best lives have struggles of their own too. like i said, we all have our own journeys. what u see of other people’s is just a highlight reel - u never know what struggles they’re facing behind the scenes bc i can assure u, we all are going through something. none of us are just floating along life absolutely carefree!! there’s obstacles for us all and they manifest in different ways for all of us so do!! not!! compare!! urself!! to!! others!!

secondly, i’m sorry to hear that about ur dad. that’s an awful thing to hear from a parent. i know this doesn’t make up for it but i just wanted to tell u, if u haven’t heard this from anyone else, u are doing great. u may not be where u want to be right now (which is completely ok!! u have SO much time ahead of u to get to where u want to be) but u are trying, u are doing ur best and u are still here which means u are doing great. look at u, here, despite it all!! u have made it all this way and ur going to make so much more progress. i know it’s easier said than done but please try ur best to ignore the naysayers. all that matters is that u are living up to ur own standards - forget what ur dad expects of u, because ur life is ur own to live and u don’t exist to please him. also, i just wanted to reiterate ur point about ur dad having super high expectations and u feeling like u can’t keep up with them. that’s a rough realisation, but i think it’s also a v important one to acknowledge because it’s one that can set u free. if u know his expectations of u are a) unrealistic and b) too harsh, then don’t feel obligated to try and match up to them. in situations such as these, i find it’s often the case that no matter what u do, it will never be enough bc they will always find something to nitpick on. u can achieve incredible things and do everything to perfection and they will still find something to complain about and be disappointed in u for. this may or may not be the case for u, but if it is, i hope u can one day walk away from these expectations and live ur life freely the way u want without feeling like u have to measure up to any outsider’s expectations for u.

thirdly, u are not stupid!! u have so much to offer simply just by being u. i feel like u maybe think ur best days are behind u but that is far from the case. ur best days are still waiting for u!! u have so much to look forward to and so much to experience and to achieve. it’s okay to be confused and lost when trying to figure out this mess we call life. we’re all confused here bb!! none of us know exactly what we’re doing but we’re all faking it til we make it. think about it from the perspective of ur younger self - idk if this is the case for u but when i was young, i thought people who were 18 were Proper Adults. i’m now 22 and i still feel like i’m fumbling my way through life and i definitely don’t feel anything close to being an adult, but hey!! that’s okay. the important thing is that u try. even if u trip up, it doesn’t matter bc failure is inevitable in life and we all go through it. what matters is how u carry urself through these experiences and how u deal with it. it’s okay if u don’t know which direction u want to go in, or if ur not sure it’s the right path for u. just give it a go and try. u can only find out what’s good for u through actually trying. if it doesn’t work out, then whelp, at least now u know for sure that’s something that’s not for u!! onto the next experience. and the next. and the next. until u eventually find something that clicks for u. at that point, u can look back with all ur wisdom from ur experiences and know that every single trial u faced and overcame has made u a stronger, wiser and better person. we love character development!!

u mentioned that u live with a lot of guilt and u haven’t been able to move forward bc of that. would therapy be an option that u would be open to? otherwise, would u be open to trying to face some of that urself through journalling or something like that? i’m far from a qualified mental health professional so i don’t want to give u too much advice in this area bc i’m not qualified to do so, but as an anxious person and chronic overthinker, i really find that journalling helps for me to work through my thoughts. u might not be able to find all ur answers through journalling (i think that’s something that just comes through time and also potentially having a professional to walk u through it so u can untangle everything) but it does help u to get stuff off ur chest and to help u realise what’s bothering u, which is a step in the right direction. also, this may sound weird, but i hear that saying ur thoughts (the ones that cause u to spiral and feel bad/anxious) aloud to urself or to a friend helps a lot!! sometimes u don’t realise how irrational things are in ur head until u say it out loud and really hear it, or have a friend to talk u down from it.

i hope this helps!! i know this is superrrrr long and ramble-y but i hope it gave u some semblance of comfort. know that ur not alone in any of ur struggles and that there are better days waiting ahead for u!!

#answered #anon

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araeph · 6 years ago

Conversation

Conversation with prune-balled-blog

{NOTE: This is unedited, so please excuse spelling and grammar errors. With one exception--colons, which automatically bold anything in chat, have been replaced with [colon] where necessary to preserve the original formatting. Also, this is NOT an invitation to harass prune-balled-blog. Please do not @ him about this.}

prune-balled-blog: Sorry for the confusion. Should asked this. Do you know WHO talked with Aaron Ehasz?

Should have*

araeph: There are various tumblr and message board users who claimed to have talked to him. Some on the Kataang side[colon] http[colon]//araeph.tumblr.com/post/152660740000/web-archive

Some on the Zutara side[colon] http[colon]//araeph.tumblr.com/post/159119946362/kataraandzuko-terminaschosenone

But I don't know any of them by name.

prune-balled-blog: Thanks for the reply.

araeph: You're welcome. [smiley]

prune-balled-blog: It's all fake by the way. Aaron confirmed it on an Reddit AMA. The whole "Season 4/I had a different vision" thing was debunked.

Also, this for good measure.

[two screenshots inserted of reddit AMA]

araeph: Yes, I saw that post. However, what he said was the studio asked him to think up ideas for Season 4 and that he discussed them with Mike. So he did come up with ideas for it, even if they never went into production.

I also would call The Legend of Korra daring and beautiful. I just don't think it was any _good_.

prune-balled-blog: But those ideas were never outspoken.

It's all smoke and mirrors.

araeph: You mean, he never spoke to anyone else about Book 4? We don't know anything about who he did or didn't talk do between the period when Nick asked him to think up suggestions and the time when Bryke shut it down.

Of course, neither do we know that he said any of the things he allegedly said in those tumblr posts. [smiley]

prune-balled-blog: It's very easy to infer that he said absolutely nothing to anyone about anything.

He certainly would have gotten into more detail, but he didn't.

araeph: It's certainly possible. But nothing is certain.

prune-balled-blog: I mean, i would say the chances of Unicorns existing are pretty low.

araeph: How do you know he would "certainly" have gone into more detail?

prune-balled-blog: Because he seems to know of "Fake interviews", and i'm sure he would been able to go into further detail explaining that he didn't discuss any details of a possible Season 4 with some random. My point, is that had those claims been true, he would feel the need to address them further to clear further confusion. But his post implies the entire shebang was a ruse.

prune-balled-blog: There's no need to speculate any further. It was all a big hoax made by Zutara shippers putting Aaron on a pedestal to expand on their agenda. And people who didn't like Korra.

araeph: I think the opposite is true. If he'd said, "I never discussed it with anyone but Mike, and all the interviews from fans are fake," that would have been easy. He said there were some fake interviews out there, and that he did discuss it with Mike, and that's all we know.

Since it was suggested at the studio level, no it was not a hoax, and no one ever put Ehasz on a pedestal.

prune-balled-blog: I'm going to have to disagree with you there.

prune-balled-blog: And oh, yes they certainly do.

araeph: That's fine if you disagree.

prune-balled-blog: Look everywhere. People praise Ehasz as the sole reason why Avatar was good only because he was head writer.

prune-balled-blog: This whole thing reeked of angry fans methodically building a boogeyman because they were unhappy with how things went for their favorite show.

araeph: Actually, it's more of a process of elimination.

Before I saw Legend of Korra, I too thought Bryke were the be-all-end-all of Avatar.

Then LOK's writing let me down, and I started realizing there were people with power to influencing the writing of ATLA.

prune-balled-blog: You don't have to go through the motions. I know exactly your point of view.

araeph: Maybe it was Tim Hedrick or Joshua Hamilton? But they went on to make Voltron, and while that show was good for a while, it's headed off the rails now.

prune-balled-blog: Yeah but were we REALLY shocked when things didn't turn out perfect? Any show would have a stark difference in quality had an army of writers left a project.

araeph: Yes, it would.

prune-balled-blog: Assuming Korra would be just as good as Avatar, due to some naive 'understanding' that Bryke is the "end-all-be-all" is just silly.

araeph: Since almost everyone outside the fandom knows Bryke as /the/ creators of the show, and since they were the executive producers, it actually makes sense.

It just happened to be wrong.

prune-balled-blog: All you had to do was look at who was in charge, and marginalize your expectations accordingly.

prune-balled-blog: Actually, not entirely. It's dumb to assume two guys from Rhode Island (?) who had no prior experience running a show or writing a script, that they would churn out gold a second time without the 15 or so extra writers on board.

Not to mention a missing Head Writer.

What this fandom did to Bryke was shameful.

They kicked them in the dirt and spat on them for making something they wanted.

Aaron was a talented guy, and likely a massive contributor to what made Avatar a great piece.

prune-balled-blog: But what people did to demonize these poor guys was a complete and utter disgrace.

araeph: If you think fans (most of whom have no experience in television) should have known better than the studio heads who banked on EXACTLY the churning out gold a second time premise that we did, I don't know what to tell you.

araeph: Bryke aren't poor, and they're not victims.

prune-balled-blog: Would you forgive a thief for committing a crime because he didn't know stealing was wrong? This should be pretty obvious, no?

They certainly aren't villains.

araeph: Hahaha, so people who are ignorant of the details of television production are comparable to thieves?

prune-balled-blog: And if you think so, you're delusional.

araeph: Let me make this simple. Bryke accepted the credit for being the overall creators of the show.

prune-balled-blog: It was a hyperbolic example. Should have been obvious.

araeph: They got the accolades, so they get all the criticism for not living up to expectations.

araeph: Thievery is not an exaggeration of not delving into production details from a medium you're not an expert in.

prune-balled-blog: That's bizarrely unfair.

araeph: It's called "with great power comes great responsibility".

prune-balled-blog: I know. I saw Spider-Man.

And honestly, the people who spread this bull online should have listened to Uncle Ben.

araeph: How much power do a bunch of online fans really have, compared to successful showrunners who can snap their fingers and get a press release into the news?

prune-balled-blog: A lot, actually. For example, when Microsoft announced the Xbox One, they had a slew of controversial shit under their belt. After 2 days of nonstop harassment from fans, they reneged on that deal. And boom. Huuuuge change.

The internet is a powerful tool.

prune-balled-blog: Granted, that was a good change. Considering Microsoft went out of their way to enslave gamers wallets and playful freedom.

araeph: True. But for every example like that, Microsoft as a thousand other unpopular practices that they continue with no matter how many people complain.

araeph: I don't know of Bryke ever admitting to changing something about the way they took care of business, just because people complained.

prune-balled-blog: I would happen to agree with that. But the bottom line is that the internet is a tool.

prune-balled-blog: My main point is this. Pleading ignorance to how a show is made is not a serviceable answer for what fans have said/lied about with Bryke. That's all.

araeph: I disagree. When a show is marketed by creators like Bryke as a true successor to their previous work, and they make NO attempt to tamp down expectations themselves, they can't blame people who are not industry professionals for believing the hype that THEY and the studio they worked with spread far and wide.

araeph: And if your argument is, "Well you should have known better than to believe what they said," then you can't also make the argument of "poor Bryke" if the latter were intentionally misleading and exaggerating.

prune-balled-blog: What they said? No, i said you should have been able to infer you miiiight just be getting something a taaad bit different if you only saw they were returning, and no one else.

araeph: But this is exactly the problem. You're blaming fans for not reading between the lines, and not Bryke, who put out those very lines, despite the latter having vastly more power and experience at their disposal.

araeph: They, as showrunners, had a greater responsibility to inform fans of what LOK would really be like than the fans had to research and acquaint themselves with the intricacies of making television.

prune-balled-blog: Let me ask you something. Is it probably a fair/good idea to create a fake hoax that basically claimed Ehasz had been at odds with Bryke the entire production, claimed a Season 4 was supposed to be made, and that he had different plans for Korra had be been involved?

Bryke said Korra was going to be a sequel in the future, with a new Avatar. They were also the only confirmed writers. You can infer A LOT from that.

araeph: If any (or all of those interviews) are hoaxes, they should be condemned and the people who made them up should be criticized for it. I personally still believe there was some tension, but stating my opinion, even if it's based on speculation, isn't dishonest unless I pass it off as fact.

prune-balled-blog: That's fair enough.

araeph: As for what they said about Korra ...

http[colon]//comicsalliance.com/the-legend-of-korra-michael-dante-dimartino-bryan-konietzko-interview/

:I really love when Korra arrives in Republic City and sees Aang's statue for the first time. There's a moment where she's almost in a trance. She's in awe of Aang and also wants to become as great an Avatar as he was. The Legend of Korra is a little like that for us. We know we have a big legacy to live up to, but hopefully this series will be even better than the original."

#anti-bryke #lok criticism #debate #long post

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