#in the movie she has bushy black hair and it’s not even a little book accurate but I just fucking love if

[clementinefight]

cold summer

My stress this summer is so bad, my neck is permanently stiff. Rigid, nervous, stone. A girl wakes in the middle of the night, she's alone in a deep world of empty houses, and in the dispossessed sleep of her childhood branches have started to grow from her arms, limp orange muddy leaves have overcome her hair, and she is rooting from toes down into floorboards. Nobody to ask a thing, like whether or not her experience of life is normal. So the branches grow, gather, then she is this isolated nature in her isolated bedroom, turned over to a cyclical light of day or night she sees only through gaps in her own weather, and so big with bushiness she can’t get out the manufactured door and enter the wood where, unbeknownst to her, are the others just like her, made of branches and leaves and who have solitary spirits also, though still need their roots to touch the roots of another. Or something. Sometimes, and I’m not proud of this, I look out at the green backyard and I see the peach-juice sun in the sky and I see the invisible breezes of July curling with tendrils of dark flora and it seems not like I'm here, but like I’m watching television, something bright and far away. I forget it’s my day, that I can even go over there and touch if I wanted to, I could even pee on the land like a dog would, if I wanted to, and claim this in some way.

Haven’t swam enough, haven’t walked enough, I’m becoming a little suburbanite cruising around in my dented car, seeing everything through eyes of windshield. The bushes, the houses, the pink sinking light—it’s all over there, and nothing is here but the music. This puts a strange layer of distance between me and summer, me and real things. I will make a point later to stick my toe in some mud – or press my bare hand into black pavement, will the asphalt to deflate like it’s a hot chocolate cake. Wouldn’t you like for the parking lots to liquify and sink below ground every summer, and for the black waves to rock our heat glistened cars around, up towards the marshmallow clouds; or for the greenery to not stop where it stops but extend until it’s like a shag of shining lime hair over the shopping mall, the movie theatre. If you don’t have a car, good for you, stay pure

Something else I’ve noticed — I’m such an impulse buyer. Buying feels close and friendly, like putting on some leather gloves. I would never want to see me at an auction. Stressed, my emotions lift to a crescendo where they then collapse from jitters into an almost hysterical net around my entire body—a pantsuit of stress, and it’s three colours: blue, red and purple, the baby. Feels warm, then cold. Here I either go to the grocery store to buy new condiments, shortbread, or jarred vegetables in brine or oil; or I’ll buy books online.

Today it was books. A small NYRB haul. I guess this is a fairly tame impulse, but I’d really rather be that one who stresses out and goes for a walk, or a swim, or a bike ride, or a scream into their pillow. Instead I just fill my cart, and it’s like filling a hole for a little while. Hate my methods. Look forward to the books. The Liar by Martin A. Hansen (“and for years now Johannes has lived alone”), My Friends by Emmanuel Bove, Machines in the Head by Anna Kavan and The Juniper Tree by Barbara Comyns. I’m drawn to stories with the desperate or resigned thud of loneliness in them; it’s what I relate to most; or maybe it’s not; it’s funny, even when people reach out for connection, I still want to believe it’s being alone I’m most capable of, even made for (I say that in a soldierly way, which makes it even more embarrassing). Björk was in a movie called The Juniper Tree, which was inspired by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale as was the novel by Comyns. Maybe I’ll read that too.

Today I’m in Montreal. I'm visiting my little brother. His balcony looks out onto other nondescript buildings, and he leaves the door wide open while he naps and I work on my laptop out here on the couch; trucks and cars roar a kind of grating metal noise down below, this noise feels prehistoric rather than modern, like out of sight the earth has split under lava and now we are getting not the sight but the noise, the noise. I decide to welcome it. The noise is not a fixed feature of my life anyway, but of his life, in this way it’s easy to welcome. Brief everything. Brief and body me. Bonobo plays on the television, then Seabear, and last night we watched some episodes of King of the Hill—the tornado episode had some beautiful red and green skies. My coffee this morning brought on nausea and I thought I could wave this dislocation off by eating a raisin croissant, but that made it worse, though at least it was good. Now I sit here with a foggy head taking forever to get my work done. EEEEEK

Later going to meet my brother’s girlfriend for the first time over some ramen! Then going to see the 10:15 show Oppenheimer with both of them, all three of us together.

In two weeks I leave for my trip! Ireland, Scotland, London, Iceland!

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Watched my favorite movie from when I was a kid and realized that one of the characters from it is still one of my faves of all time and I’m kinda in love with her

#the movie is ronia the robber’s daughter #from 1984 not that new anime series that came a few years ago #idk if that movie was translated into other languages or if it is only Swedish #the book is translated into multiple languages though so maybe someone out there has read it #if that someone sees this it was ronia’s mother lovis #I was so in love with her #still am tbh #gal was the only woman in that fortress with her husband and his twelve robbers and she fucking ruled #she didn’t take anyone’s shit that was her fortress and they were just living in it #and these thirteen big men were afraid of her because she kicked their asses on the daily when they got too unruly #but she also sings and dances with them and even though she doesn’t plunder she’s just as much a robber as the rest of them #her husband is a madman but she’s a queen #and when I say he’s mad I mean it #he screams 99% of his lines and has no chill whatsoever #my man can’t handle emotions very well but he has and awesome wife #at least I think she’s his wife it’s not really clear if they’re married #or if they’re just together #I don’t know how lovis ended up in a fortress with thirteen robbers either but she’s there and she’s the boss #in the movie she has bushy black hair and it’s not even a little book accurate but I just fucking love if #yeah I’m having so many feels about a children’s move so what? #imma go back to being an asoiaf/got blog now sorry for the detour #no im not sorry if you ever have the chance to watch the 1984 live action ronia the robber’s daughter plz watch it

[butterflies-dragons]

GRRM has projected his love for medieval tourneys, heraldry, pageantry, knights and chivalry on Sansa Stark

Art credit: Heinrich von Breslau (Codex Manesse, 14. Jahrhundert)

GRRM:

“That whole story (The Hedge Knight) is built around a tournament. I love medieval tournaments, reading about them, writing about them. There's of course some of them in the main books, but this was an opportunity in a time of peace, not war, to look at a medieval tournament with all its pageantry and the jousting and the combat and reveal a little of Westerosi History”.

—In conversation: George R.R. Martin with Dan Jones FULL EVENT- August 2019

SANSA:

"The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," Jory said as he resumed his seat. "They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

Arya could see that her father was not very happy about that. "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?"

Sansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. "A tourney," she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Father. "Will we be permitted to go, Father?"

"You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly."

"Oh, please," Sansa said. "I want to see."

Septa Mordane spoke up. "Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend."

Father looked pained. "I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa." He saw Arya. "For both of you."

"I don't care about their stupid tourney," Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.

Sansa lifted her head. "It will be a splendid event. You shan't be wanted."

—A Game of Thrones - Arya II

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa’s breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind…and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.

“It is better than the songs,” she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.

They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

GRRM:

“Tolkien imitators who came after him, a lot of them created a sort of Disneyland Middle Ages, you know, a sort of Middle Ages like you might see at a Renaissance Faire, but you don't have the dysentery, or the torture, or the leprosy, or the innate sexism, or classism, or racism that was so built into so much of that world for so many centuries, you really have to take, you know, I like the knights in shinning armor, the heraldry and pageantry as much as anyone, but you also have to include the fleas."

— Neuchâtel International Fantastic Film Festival - NIFFF 2014

The novelist is midway through something of a European tour. After his trip to Switzerland, he is due in Scotland for the Edinburgh book festival. It has often been suggested that Ivanhoe (by the Scottish 19th-century novelist Walter Scott) was, alongside the War of the Roses, a major influence on A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones.

Martin was first turned on to Ivanhoe by the 1952 MGM movie starring Robert Taylor, George Sanders and a young Elizabeth Taylor. "I think it was Elizabeth Taylor at the peak of her...," his voice tails off before he clarifies. "She was the most beautiful woman in the world. I think I was nine years old when I saw that movie. How could you not fall in love with her? But the jousting and the pageantry of it made me love that story. Later, in high school, I did read that book. For a modern reader, it's a little tough to get through. The prose is very Victorian and thick but if you fight your way through it, the story is there. It has everything the movie has and more – the heraldry and jousting and the insight into the times. It was an influence in that sense."

—GRRM - Independent - 2014

SANSA:

The green knight laughed again. "Barristan the Old, you mean. Don't flatter him too sweetly, child, he thinks overmuch of himself already." He smiled at her. "Now, wolf girl, if you can put a name to me as well, then I must concede that you are truly our Hand's daughter."

Joffrey stiffened beside her. "Have a care how you address my betrothed."

"I can answer," Sansa said quickly, to quell her prince's anger. She smiled at the green knight. "Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and councillor to the king, and so I name you."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

No one ransomed the northmen, though. One fat lordling haunted the kitchens, Hot Pie told her, always looking for a morsel. His mustache was so bushy that it covered his mouth, and the clasp that held his cloak was a silver-and-sapphire trident. He belonged to Lord Tywin, but the fierce, bearded young man who liked to walk the battlements alone in a black cloak patterned with white suns had been taken by some hedge knight who meant to get rich off him. Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

—A Clash of Kings - Arya VII

Petyr had given her a roll of arms to study, so she knew their heraldry if not their faces. The red castle was Redfort, plainly; a short man with a neat grey beard and mild eyes. Lady Anya was the only woman amongst the Lords Declarant, and wore a deep green mantle with the broken wheel of Waynwood picked out in beads of jet. Six silver bells on purple, that was Belmore, pear-bellied and round of shoulder. His beard was a ginger-grey horror sprouting from a multiplicity of chins. Symond Templeton's, by contrast, was black and sharply pointed. A beak of a nose and icy blue eyes made the Knight of Ninestars look like some elegant bird of prey. His doublet displayed nine black stars within a golden saltire. Young Lord Hunter's ermine cloak confused her till she spied the brooch that pinned it, five silver arrows fanned. Alayne would have put his age closer to fifty than to forty. His father had ruled at Longbow Hall for nigh on sixty years, only to die so abruptly that some whispered the new lord had hastened his inheritance. Hunter's cheeks and nose were red as apples, which bespoke a certain fondness for the grape. She made certain to fill his cup as often as he emptied it.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

Harry was staring at her. He knows who I am, she realized, and he does not seem pleased to see me. It was only then that she took note of his heraldry. Though his surcoat and horse trappings were patterned in the red-and-white diamonds of House Hardyng, his shield was quartered. The arms of Hardyng and Waynwood were displayed in the first and third quarters, respectively, but in the second and fourth quarters he bore the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn, sky blue and cream. Sweetrobin will not like that.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

GRRM:

Firstly, thanks for that very thorough response on the tournaments and knighthood. Fascinating. In particular given the notes about _Ivanhoe_ and its influence -- I've only witnessed the A&E production of it, although maybe about time I read it. Seems it might be ripe for ideas.

IVANHOE is well worth a read, although the style is very old fashioned, of course. Still it has some fabulous characters and scenes, and so far as I know the definitive portrayal of a medieval tournament, both melee and joust.

It has been filmed three times that I know of. The recent A&E production had some good moments, as did the older Sam Neill version... the CLASSIC version, however, is still MGM's 50s version, starring Robert Taylor, Elizabeth Taylor, and George Sanders. The jousts are wonderful, Liz is radiant, and George Sanders steals the film as Bois-Gilbert. You should definitely rent that one and have a look.

—GRRM - 1999

SANSA:

She loved King's Landing; the pageantry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

She closed the window, gathered up the fallen papers, and stacked them on the table. One was a list of the competitors. Four-and-sixty knights had been invited to vie for places amongst Lord Robert Arryn's new Brotherhood of Winged Knights, and four and-sixty knights had come to tilt for the right to wear falcon's wings upon their warhelms and guard their lord.

The competitors came from all over the Vale, from the mountain valleys and the coast, from Gulltown and the Bloody Gate, even the Three Sisters. Though a few were promised, only three were wed; the eight victors would be expected to spend the next three years at Lord Robert's side, as his own personal guard (Alayne had suggested seven, like the Kingsguard, but Sweetrobin had insisted that he must have more knights than King Tommen), so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

And they came, Alayne thought proudly. They all came.

It had fallen out just as Petyr said it would, the day the ravens flew. "They're young, eager, hungry for adventure and renown. Lysa would not let them go to war. This is the next best thing. A chance to serve their lord and prove their prowess. They will come. Even Harry the Heir." He had smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "What a clever daughter you are."

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

GRRM:

Amon Shin in Maine asks, “If you lived in Westeros, which house would you like to be part of, or in which area would you like to live?”

Well, you know, there’s something to be said for being an honorable Stark, but you’re kinda cold all the time and poor and so forth. And you have a lot of land, but there’s not a lot of stuff on it, you know? On the other hand, if you’re a Lannister, you have a nice house and all the gold you want and all of that stuff.  So, there’s a lot to be said for being a Lannister.  I don’t know.  Maybe I could probably see me being a Lannister.  And I would always pay my debts.

—A Dance with Dragons | George R.R. Martin | Talks at Google - July 2011

SANSA:

They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

* * *

Art credit: Loras Tyrell gives Sansa Stark a rose at the Hand’s Tournament by Jonathan Burton.

As you can see, Sansa loves tourneys because GRRM loves tourneys.

During the events that take place in the ASOIAF Books, we find 5 tourneys and Sansa Stark is directly or indirectly linked with all of them:

The Hand's tourney, a tourney in honor of Sansa’s father, Eddard Stark. Sansa was unofficially crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty by the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell. GRRM wrote this passage as a resemblance to the Great tourney at Harrenhal, hiding hints and reversing colors. 

Tourney on King Joffrey's name day, a tourney in honor of Sansa’s betrothed. Sansa defended and saved Dontos Hollard’s life.

Melee at Bitterbridge, Brienne won the melee and earned a place in Renly’s Kingsguard. Later she swore his allegiance to Sansa’s mother, Catelyn Stark, and made an oath to find Sansa Stark. Brienne also wields Oathkeeper, a sword made of Ice (House Stark ancestral sword).  

Melee at Runestone, this event was organized with the sole intention of knighting Harrold Hardyng, Alayne Stone’s betrothed.

Tourney at the Gates of the Moon to select the members of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights, created and organized by Alayne Stone.

Sansa is also linked with other important tourneys that happened previously to the events of the ASOIAF Books:

Tourney at Ashford Meadows (The Hedge Knight), GRRM wrote the Hedge Knight when he was in the middle of writing A Clash of Kings, and he made sure of link the five initial champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadows (Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, Hardyng & Targaryen) with Sansa’s suitors and betrothed. So Willas Tyrell and Harrold Hardyng are not a coincidence in Sansa’s arc, GRRM had already planned for this since he was writing A Clash of Kings.    

Great tourney at Harrenhal, this tourney was won by Rhaegar Targaryen and as the champion he crowned Lyanna Stark (Sansa’s aunt & Jon Snow’s mother) as his Queen of Love and Beauty. And take note at this very interesting detail: Rhaegar Targaryen wearing an armor adorned with rubies (red) gave Lyanna Stark a crown of winter roses (blue), while Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, wearing an armor adorned with sapphires (blue) gave Sansa a (red) rose.

Sansa loves knights because GRRM loves knights. Remember that George’s Catholic high school (Marist) football team is called the Royal Knights: 

Sansa loves pageantry because GRRM loves pageantry. Just look at his collection of knights and ladies figurines:

Sansa loves heraldry because GRRM loves heraldry. Take note that GRRM took inspiration from the antagonist of Ivanhoe, Brian de Bois-Guilbert’s sigil, to created House Corbray’s sigil:

Bois-Guilbert’s new shield bore a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, Gare le Corbeau.

—IVANHOE: A Romance

The youngest man in the party had three ravens on his chest, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. His brown hair was shoulder length; one stray lock curled down across his forehead. Ser Lyn Corbray, Alayne thought, with a wary glance at his hard mouth and restless eyes.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

(Not to mention that Sansa loves books because George loves books...)

There you have it, GRRM self inserts in a few of his ASOIAF characters, and Sansa Stark is one of them.

#Sansa Stark #GRRM #ASOIAF #Yes there is a House Corbray stained glass window in GRRM's office #George loves Brian de Bois Gilbert #Lyn Corbray is inspired in Bois Gilbert me thinks #Bois Gilbert kidnapped Rebecca... #:eyes emoji: #All tourneys in ASOIAF are inspired in Ivanhoe #I recommend you to read Ivanhoe #I recommend you to watch Ivanhoe movies too especially the Liz Taylor one #Radiant Liz Taylor played Rebecca

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

Oc’s

Nina Heath

Skin tone: dark

Eye color: blue

Hair: curly, dark brown with a blue ombre

Height: 158cm

Weight: 90kg

Age: 23

Gender: nonbinary

Sexuality: bisexual

Details: vitiligo on their left shoulder/right hip/stomach/back/over the left eye, eyebrow piercing, nose ring, lip ring, ears pierced all the way up, sleeve tattoos on both arms, tattoos all over their body (thighs, ankles, torso, back, calves,...)

Personality: confident, chaotic good, gremlin, dumb but kinda smart, loyal, would kill for their friends, would kill their friends, angry, smol and chubby, disastrous bisexual, scary, yell-a-lot, bunnies!, strong, caring

Hobbies: baking, crocheting, arguing, painting nails, reading (but their head hurts), cuddling, kissing, calming their girlfriend down, Fighting with people who hurt their friends/girlfriend (is totaly the embodiment of:

Nina: You made Sophia cry!

Tray: Sophia always cries!

Sophia, crying: That’s not true...)

Hates: dysphoria, homophobes, transphobes, Karens, birds, tall people who make fun of them, their glasses (but their head hurts if they don’t wear them), contacts (but their head hurts if they don’t wear them), headaches

Job: baker

Sophia Georgening

Skin tone: caramel

Eye color: green

Hair: really messy,straight (unlike her), bob cut with a triangle undercut at the back if her head, ginger

Height: 186cm

Weight: 78kg

Age: 24

Gender: cis woman

Sexuality: lesbian

Details: freckles all over her face and shoulders, bushy eyebrows with an eyebrow cut in the left one, tongue piercing, tattoo of a Phoenix on her back between the shoulder blades, Nina and a heart tattooed on her right bicep, ripped (seriously, she’s buff, she has abs, biceps, triceps, she could crush a melon with her thighs, the CaLvEs,...), wears her hair tied up in a messy bun almost 90% of the time, vegetarian and whenever she eats a product that came from an Animal like milk or an egg, she apologizes to said animal

Personality: calm, thoughtful, lawful good, a TrEe, loving, caring, silent, secretly anxious, strict, tidy, colected, extremely smart but almost never shows it, a bottom, sensitive, crybaby

Hobbies: blacksmithing, archery (but she never shoots at living targets and cries when she needs to shoot at plastic animals), working out, running, kickboxing (even tho she apologizes to her oponent afterwards), helping people out, petting animals, kissing, cuddling

Hates: sad movies, Animal cruelty, mean people, social interactions (but she’s good at hiding it), not much else, she thinks that everyone deserves another chance and that all people have some good in them

Job: works in a flower shop, part time blacksmith/gym trainer

Tray Black

Skin tone: light

Eye color: yellow

Hair: short, bright blue

Height: 175cm

Weight: 69kg

Age: 20

Gender: genderflux (using all pronouns, mostly they/them, so they’ll be refered to as such while description is going on)

Sexuality: asexual panromantic

Details: nose ring (changes up every day), extravagant earrings, sleeve tattoo on their right arm, a snake tattooed around their left thigh, colorful/black clothing (they either look like a neon paint bomb or as a black hole), they rarely bind but pack rather often (bottom dysphoria is worse then the top one), a lot of rings and bracelets (you always know when they’re near since you hear clanking), hats, always wearing earphones

Personality: they’re really extra in every way, chill, sarcastic, funny, flegmatic, pesimistic, both love and hate attention, very competitive, potterhead but hates JK, totaly a Slytherin (and not just because of the snakes), a bit arrogant, very good leader, very very smart, good at arguments (seriously, you so don’t want to get into an argument with them, they’ll obliterate you)

Hobbies: singing, drums, gaming, playing the guitar, sketching people/sceneries, reading (mostly sci-fi/fantasy), dying hair, combining jewelry with clothes, listening to music, taking care of their pet sneks

Hates: shoping, overplayed pop songs, dogs, teeth, the summer (it’s too damn hot for them), homophobes/transphobes, J.K. Rowling, terfs, politics (the people)

Job: part time at Nina’s bakery, studying politology and sociology, in the school band

Connor Wearings

Skin tone: lightly tanned (not as pale as Tray but not as dark as Sophia)

Eye color: heterochromia - left eye is green, right eye is grey

Hair: curly, short, hazelnut brown

Height: 168cm

Weight: 64kg

Age: 21

Gender: demiboy (using he/him pronouns but not quite cis)

Sexuality: asexual, aromantic

Details: freckles. everywhere., always smiling (he’s got dimples), dressed freely (skirts, dress, pants, blouses, shirts, heels, crop tops, hoodies,...), he’s really comfortable in his body and yet he’s not fully comfortable with all that comes with it, smol bean, the cutest little pout, ALWAYS covered in paint, fingers are pernamently covered in bandaids, wears a bandana to hold his hair back while working

Personality: he’s a total sweetheart, kind, helpful, outgoing, happy-go-lucky, loving, caring, funny, always laughing/smiling, really hard to piss him off, really easy to make him upset (another embodiement of ‘he always cries), ‘Maybe I can drink my problems away’ *opens capri-sun*, dog lover, puppy-like personality, loyal

Hobbies: drawing, cooking, baking, petting animals, fluffy things!, crocheting, sewing, painting, dressing up, making tea, helping his friends, hugging, holding hands, platonic relationships

Hates: arguments, people who make fun of someone, rude people, loud music, the dark, the cold, octopuses, dark colors, unfinished jobs

Job: studying art, psychology and doing a baking course at the moment (very productive and capable), working a part-time at a convinience store and a daycare centre (the kids love him)

Abram Hayze

Skin tone: dark

Eye color: hazelnut

Hair: deep brown, curly and fluffy

Height: 197cm

Weight: 78kg

Age: 19

Gender: agender - e/em/eir/emself pronouns

Sexuality: pansexual, demiromantic

Details: e has a lot of moles all over eir body, mostly presents androgynous, yet sometimes likes to present feminine, had very unaccepting parents so whenever e is forced to go to a more profesional setting or to meet with older people, e presents masculine even though e hates it, very proud of eir hair, love to play with them when e’s nervous and try new hairstyles all the time, e never dyes it tho, piercings on both ears, piercing under the lip, piercing in the bellybutton

Personality: e is really calm, likes to think and be alone, yet also loves to spend time with eir friends, smiling a lot, always there when someone needs em, really perceptive and no one really knows how e does it, but e seems to know about a lot of stuff that other people don’t (it’s just the fact that e is very trustworthy and so a lot of people let their guard down around em), e is also really into debates, but not the political ones like Tray, eir partner, but rather ones about books, headcannons and interests, e is also really sneaky and likes to play tricks and pranks on people, especially confusing them with the food that e eats, e is chaotic good

Habbies: reading, hiding around places and letting emself be found in the most ridiculous positions, putting stuff on the top shelves when e is hanging out with eir friends (the short ones), sitting in strange places where no one knows how e got in, sleeping

Hates: homophobes/transphobes, people with no sense of humor, long waits, queues, places with a lot of people, the dark

Job: studying psychology, working part-time in a hairdressing shop

Tenzin Arish

Skin tone: slightly tanned

Eye color: purple

Hair: deep black, short (one side is totaly buzzed and the other is a bit longer) the ends are bleached and dyed (purple, blue, green, pink) depending on their mood

Height: 164cm

Weight: 58kg

Age: 22

Gender: nonbinary (xe/ xeir/ xem)

Sexuality: queer

Details: xe are really skinny and fairly androgynous, no one actually knows what xeir biological sex is and xe aren’t gonna tell anyone anytime soon, xe present androgynously, yet sometimes xe like to present masc/fem, depending on the day, xe love xeir hair and that’s why xe dye them so often, if xe don’t like the color, it can even change daily

Personality: sarcasm and irony are the two languages xe speak in, xe like coffee and practicaly live off of it, no one ever saw xem sleep, xe are always online and always awake when someone knocks on xeir door at any time (so xeir friends know that when they need a friend, xe will be awake whenever they decide to come there), xe love helping people with their mental problems yet xe never try to solve xeir own, the only other language xe speak is memes

Hobbies: taking care of stray animals, helping people out (whether it’s an old lady who needs to cross the street or a protestor who needs protection from the rubber bullets/tear gas), protesting, breaking down gender boundaries, educating people on the LGBTQ+ history, history itself, archeology, xe love caves and everything that has to do with geology

Hates: homophobes/transphobes, terfs, anyone who’s stupidly using history (especially against the LGBTQ+ comunity), plants (xe have alergies), flowers (xe think it’s overated)

Job: part-time job in a museum, studying history and geology

Okay, so I hope you enjoy...this? Please inform me if my autocorrect misgendered one of my sweethearts, I proofread it but one can never be so sure. To be clear: all of them hate transphobes/homophobes, racists, terfs, neon*zis, Tr*mp supporters and everyone else who is somehow harming people or disrespecting their rights, I just really didn’t have the willpower to write everything of this down in every Single one of the hate columns because that would mean I have to think about it and that would do me no good, because I really didn’t want to have a mental breakdown while writing about my oc’s. That’ll be all, thanks for comming to my TED talk.

Tags: @exhaustedauthor @definietlynotsatan @detroit-become-snail @nyamafriend and @ anyone who wants to read this. Bye!

#my oc’s #luv them #no misgendering! #(or at least I hope so) #i am looking 👁👁 #i don’t know how to tag this #sorry

[ty-talks-comics]

The Boys Season 1 Review and Comparison

This was so cathartic.

In an age where we’re inundated with superhero media on all fronts with their bright colors, cheery jokes and positive outlooks, it’s easy to slowly become sick of it, feel the “superhero fatigue” as it were. Where Marvel ruins some stories with far too many jokes (looking at you Thor: Ragnarok) and DC is far too dreary and serious for its own good with a lack of levity, where can one turn to for a GOOD happy medium?

Well, in comes Seth Rogan and Evan Gold, the brilliant minds behind the amazing adaptation of Preacher with yet another brutal and slightly more cynical series. The Boys absolutely stuns not only by being a genuinely compelling series, but also by being one of the few adaptations that improves on the original medium in a few aspects.

Story

The story centers around Hughie Campbell and the titular Boys as they work to expose the horrific deeds of The Seven, a collective of the world's greatest superheroes, and the company that sponsors them, Vought American.

In this world, superheroes are everywhere. They're on breakfast cereals, TV shows, movies, pretty much every piece of media and entertainment imaginable while also protecting America from crime. Sounds familiar, huh? The kicker here is that, much like every asshole celebrity that lets the fame and fortune go to their heads, these heroes are massive cunts. They take performance enhancing drugs, routinely cause accidents that hurt or kill people, sexually harass people left and right and just lie to their adoring public like they’re children.

Unlike the books, however, The Boys team isn’t the well oiled machine that’s been taking down and blackmailing superheroes for years and the first four episodes are spent introducing the different team members.This is likely due to wanting to give people time to care about them individually and the limited number of episodes in the season. This definitely works in also retooling the characters themselves for TV since they may not have seventy-two issues of character development ahead of them

For the most part, the show follows the initial story beats of the comics with a few select differences before splintering off in an entirely new direction. Hughie’s girlfriend still gets blown apart by A-Train, he denies Vought America’s hush money which draws the attention of Billy Butcher and Starlight joins the Seven after the “death” of the hero Lamplighter. 

This also means that there's less time to focus on smaller plotlines and teams that are referenced to in passing dialogue like the Teenage Kix, a pastiche on the Teen Titans, or Payback, the number two group of superheroes to The Seven. While seeing the team take these guys down on the small screen would have been fun, I like the idea of keeping the plot focused on just the core group of antagonists. This way, we don’t have to slog through three or four seasons of small fry and get the big bads in the last few.

After the first half, fans of the comic may start to feel a little bit of the familiar, but then things start to take a drastic turn when Billy's pride and the rest of the teams sloppiness gets them all burned and branded wanted criminals. This never happens in the books because The Boys are funded and protected by the CIA, but here they’re just another group of concerned citizens that are completely in over their heads, adding to the tension and keeping everyone guessing as to what will happen for the rest of the season and in Season 2.

Themes

The original series was written during the latter years of the Bush Administration. Tensions were high and America was still embroiled in the Iraq War. The president was a simpering fool and companies were fucking people over left and right in the name of patriotism. Reality TV and the awful personalities on our screens were on nearly every channel and all of this only fueled the anger that is Garth Ennis’ pen and Darick Robertson’s pencils. It was a product of its time and it was perfect.

We’re now in the Information Age where superheroes and social media are the only things that matter in everyone’s mind, where women’s empowerment is stronger than ever and our leaders speak bombastically with shit eating grins full of lies. Rogen and Goldberg have kept the series modern and take everything to task.

Media. Marvel and DC are everywhere nowadays with some indie companies managing to scrape up their own part of the pie. The Boys makes fun of the seemingly endless cycle of sequels and the goody-two-shoes images of America’s favorite heroes. Everything is carefully managed and curated by a media team, similar to how Disney micromanages even the smallest details of their properties to make everything so sickeningly squeaky clean. 

Not only do the heroes stop crime, but they star in their own movies about themselves as well, some have sponsorships for shoes and have to compete with each other for everything. Almost everything is done for the cameras, even intimate moments whenever Vought can find a way to make it work. The heroes are never too far from the spotlight even when they want to be and oftentimes their acts can go viral without them knowing.

Sexual Assault. In the comics, Starlight is sexually assaulted by Homelander, Black Noir and A-Train in a gross scene to establish that there’s nothing good in that world. It was good for its time in its own dark way, but today there are absolutely consequences to such things as there should have been back then. In the show, Starlight is assaulted by The Deep, her childhood crush, alone. 

It’s dark and makes use of the imbalance of power as The Deep threatens to have her kicked off of the team. Soon after, Starlight comes forward with what happens to her, not allowing herself to let what happened stand and unlike in the books, The Deep gets his comeuppance. Though this also unfortunately leading to him getting assaulted as well. It’s powerful and allows for Starlight to move what could have been an image of weakness, though Vought uses this to their advantage as well, painting her a feminist icon. Best for business right?

Politics. While not everything has to be an allegory for Trump, it’s hard to say that Homelander isn’t just that. He’s what the president thinks he is, a strong, blonde haired man that the entire country loves. Homelander has the people eating out of the palm of his hands and he’s only feeding them shit. He hates the common man and will just as easily let many die if it can somehow serve his interests. He’s not above a little sexual harassment himself and he is just an evil bastard.

There’s also a subplot of military application of superheroes that I feel mirrors the discussion on the use of drones in war. Drones are absolutely deadly and have caused the deaths of hundreds, even innocents when things have gone really wrong. Even President Obama was criticized for how reckless and dangerous their use could be. The world could only imagine the hell that would rain down if superheroes were allowed to duke it out over national security.

Characters

The Boys as a comic series was an unrepentantly cynical take on the superhero genre in an established universe of heroes. The creator, Garth Ennis, didn’t grow up with many superheroes and actually felt disrespected by a few of them, like Captain America. He brought on the amazing Darick Robertson and other artists to realize this horrid world of drugs, hardcore sex and brutal violence. Many of the stories are fun and hilarious, but with the unfortunate feeling of a lot of them feeling one note due to the one dimensional nature of a lot of the “heroes” and the ever escalating level of black humor to the point of being cartoonish.

Our main character cast is absolutely fantastic. Jack Quiad’s Hughie is much like his comic counterpart, aside from being like six feet tall and not Scottish. He’s surprisingly smart with a lot of awkwardness about him. He has a good heart and doesn’t see ALL superheroes as being evil, but does have a slight sense of justice that wants to see The Seven and Vought taken down. 

Karl Urban’s Butcher was the absolute perfect casting choice. He’s got that wry British wit, the fury to capture Butcher’s rage against supes and can play a manipulator like nobody's business. His character arc is one of the few regressions that I can actually appreciate for how it's done, especially as things become more fucked because of him and how he chooses to blame everyone else.

Everyone else is a slight bit of an improvement over the comics versions. The Frenchman, played by Tomer Capon, is similar to his comics counterpart, but we’re given reason to care about him and The Female. In the comics, Frenchie and the Female knew each other prior, but I don’t think it’s ever revealed how they met or became close. In the show Frenchie frees The Female, played by Karen Fukuhara, from thugs that had been keeping her prisoner and he slowly gains her trust over the course of the next few episodes after her introduction. We see their friendship grow, learn a little bit of her backstory and get a better understanding of what she wants versus just following Frenchie around and being terrifyingly adorable.

Annie January aka Starlight, played by Erin Moriarty, is probably the second best change in character in the series. She starts out as a bright eyed, bushy tailed hero looking to do good, but after being sexually assaulted on her first day in The Seven, decides that it will never happen again. In the comics, Annie stays around in The Seven and takes the abuse for a little while before speaking out and fighting back against the rest of them. What makes things even better, not only does she challenge her uber Christian beliefs during an event sponsored by Vought, but she does so while also getting Vought to force her abuser into giving a public apology at the mere thought of her causing their stock prices to crash.

Consequently, Mother’s Milk, portrayed by Laz Alonso, one of the most layered characters in the comics isn’t made better, but the more ridiculous aspects of is character have been toned down. We don’t hear of his disabled mother and his addiction to her breast milk that fuels his own superpowers, nor is his wife a crack addict that makes pornos with their daughter. He’s simply a reliable member of the team that loves his wife and will give Butcher the truth when he’s acting like an asshole.

The series actually brings a lot of grey to most of these characters. A-Train never once shows remorse for his actions in the books, but in the show he's painted as kind of sympathetic, while still being seen as a monster for what he does and the reasons behind them. The Deep could go either way after his actions with a redemption arc or a full turn to villain, but is shown to be knowingly aware of how little regard there is for him. He calls himself a "diversity hire" and acknowledges his own ineptitude, but he's still an absolutely terrible person.

Queen Maeve may be one of my favorite changes that manages to be even more sympathetic than her already pretty great comic counterpart. She, much like Starlight, did want to change the world, but she let the apathy and jaded nature of the job take her over. She's an alcoholic that sees a bit of herself in Starlight. The change comes in how she reacts to what I think might be Homelander's most heinous act in the show. She shows far more remorse and guilt over what happens than she does in the comic, showing us a side of her makes you want to root for her and to see her get better.

The best character… dear Lord, is Homelander, played by Anthony Starr. Homelander is a bastard. The worst thing imaginable because of his sheer strength and power. He’s a sociopath with all of the powers of Superman and none of the goodness. In the comics he’s simply just another asshole. 

He’s the most powerful of the Seven and absolutely revels in the hedonistic lifestyle that he’s accustomed to while also hating being under the rule of Vought. In the show, he’s shown as being supportive to Vought, especially it’s current Senior VP of Hero Management, Madelyn Stillwell. He has something of a mommy fetish as shown with his interactions with her and later in the series actually expresses emotions over learning of his own tragedies, but instead of trying to change for the better, he doubles down on his hatred and anger to become an even bigger monster than before. 

In the comic he just wants all of the superheroes to conquer the world, but here, he just wants to hurt everyone who hurts him. He plays games like a child, threatening and revealing secrets to toy with people before absolutely breaking them. He's horrible in a very personal way and his sneering smile only makes him so much more hateable. He knows there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop him and he revels in that fact, I love it.

Pacing and Direction

Coming in at an hour for each episode, the first two to three can feel a bit slow. Getting all of the story elements to sit just right can take time, especially as new things are introduced every few minutes. This slow burn approach easily helps to build the tension before things get really crazy by episode four. By that point, the story is unfolding at a perfect rhythm, the team is mostly together, they’ve made their plans of action and it’s all so smooth.

Thankfully each episode is directed by different people to avoid each feeling so similar. The common humor and tone is kept the same, but some episodes are very hopeful almost before being met with one that absolutely makes you hate certain characters and the actions that they take. In particular, the episode where Hughie and Butcher visit a group therapy session and Butcher flies off into a rage about the weakness of the attendees as they basically lick the balls of the heroes that have maimed them was amazing. The director pulls so much emotion out of that scene and continues on as the episode moves along in a far more dramatic fashion than some of the others.

Some others lean heavier on the debauchery such as the episode where Hughie and Butcher venture into a superhero sex club and watch as these guys do some pretty amazing feats with their abilities in some really gross ways. There’s a good balance of levity and drama that makes neither feel too overwhelming.

Overall

With a great cast, impeccable acting and an unpredictability that I actually enjoyed, The Boys absolutely blew me away. I was wholly prepared to rip it apart if I felt like it didn’t do the story justice, but Rogen and Goldberg are fans and knew what we all wanted. It’s unabashedly a comic book show, but still has enough to it that people who have never heard of the series will be floored by how much they can find to enjoy.

It’s for the nihilistic and jaded comic book fan. It’s for the casual watcher who’s gotten enough of Marvel’s colorful displays of happiness and it’s absolutely for the happy person who just wants to have some fun with what they watch. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this season of The Boys. So much so that I’m aching with anticipation to re-read the comic series in preparation for Season Two. It’s unlikely that it’ll follow the plot much, if at all after the ending, but with Stormfront (as a woman) being announced as the new Hero joining the Seven in the next season, I’m excited as to who else they might pull. This first season absolutely earns a high recommendation from me.

#comics #dynamite comics #the boys #billy butcher #karl urban #hughie campbell #jack quaid #tomer capon #the frenchman #karen fukuhara #the female #laz alonso #mother's milk #anthony starr #homelander #queen maeve #dominique mcelligott #a train #jessie t usher #starlight #erin moriarty #eric kripke #seth rogen #evan goldberg #amazon prime

[hrsloren]

HELLO EVERYONE ! i’m rlly excited to be here at hearsay. actually is a new kind of rp concept for me so if im a little slow in coming up with ideas please be patient w me, i promise i’m engaged and interested. i’d also love recs of your fav murder mystery stuff for inspo! neway some info about ren is under the cut (along w some plot ideas!) and ill message yall once i have a chance to read over the apps so that hopefully i can come 2 u with some thoughts for plots~ ur also welcome to message me first of course or hit that like or really anything else lol!! discord avail on request for plotting, too, if thats more your style. 

kwon loren is a 26 yr old scorpio, horror enthusiast, entrepreneur (cough, drug dealer), n webtoon artist and she’s never met a villain she didn’t want to write a redemption arc for.

yes i almost exclusively chose her name bc it can be nicknamed into ren which obviously sounds like wren and i thought it was punny / suitable lol. 

unfortunately the only one of those that makes any money is the entrepreneurial bit and that is a totally illegal path. so her day job is her night job as the overnight manager of the gs25 near her dingy apartment building.  she works sunday to thursday nights, usually, since she makes the schedule she selfishly schedules the part timers on prime weekend night slots.  she also draws weird commissioned porn for folks w strange kinks (tentacles?? yoikes no judgement but yoikes) when she needs the xtra won.

she was the black sheep of her family even before her personality really showed itself, and once she revealed herself to be a tomboyish, unruly, temperamental, reckless, passionate, and alarmingly contrary child the whole thing just got worse. rlly the only person she was ever very close with was her grandfather, who is a somewhat-renowned murder mystery / horror writer. sneaking peaks at his books and manuscripts was probably what kindled a lot of her weird proclivities as a child, which she carries forward to now.

she’s quite excessive in a lot of ways. too much smoking, too much drinking, too much feeling, too much dreaming, too much scheming, too much writing.... basically the only thing she doesn’t overload on is sleep?? so check out those atrocious under eye shadows sometime bc its a yikes from me yall. 

u can track her moods pretty easily despite the fact that she’s got a hard to read face. once  you get used to her habits and mannerisms its rlly clear to see that she’s an open book. the only thing that can throw it off is that she’ll try to stop smoking abt once every 3 months, at which point she becomes a complete nightmare w very little notice. it usually doesn’t last very long unfort for her lungs.

speaking of smoking shes the kind of person to immerse herself in things easily and get totally wrapped in them. like, she’s v prone to addictions or obsessions. this can be with things, people, television shows, etc. she’s never known a good series she didn’t binge as quickly as possible, a good book she didn’t read cover to cover, sleep be damned. this means she’s often kinda grouchy or trying to sleep something off. she’ll also talk ur ear off about whatever she’s fallen into at the moment. 

just for a weird fact, she has a complex about her hair. its naturally relatively coarse and bushy and curly and frizzy. her mum used to pull it back every morning in a rlly tight ponytail and pin down all the unruly bits with bobby pins or barettes and she hated it, it always made her head hurt and obviously it made her feel like her hair was ugly.  so for a long time she chemically straightened it and did all kinds of treatments, but now she’s trying to maintain it more naturally. so yeah sometimes it looks like a birds nest but at least it’s healthier. 

she’s very picky about her surroundings and organizing her personal space, especially when she wants to work on something. she gets picky about things being in a good visual order, and if she notices something is out of place around her, she’ll hyper focus on it until she can fix it. this can be something meaningful (noticing she didn’t do the dishes) or something absurd (noticing someone left a napkin on the ground at the cafe, across the room, and having to go throw it away before she can focus on anything else). 

just like with her surroundings, with aesthetics, and with substances or media,  she hyper focuses on people too. when she decides someone is ‘hers’ she will go all in on them, becoming loyal to the point of honest to goodness fault. this isn’t to say she’ll tell them they’re the best at all times or be unrealistically enamored with them. she’ll still be fully cognizant of and happy to point out faults, but she won’t turn her back on them. she’d help you bury a body, basically, but she’d tell you what a goddamn psychopath you were as she did. 

FOR SOME PLOT THOUGHTS

her only real established canon relationships have to do w her drug trade or her much better cousin (just ask anyone in her family) so she’s very well open to just about anything. she’s canonically close to magpie and cousins w swallow, of course, and sells to an established handful. i’d love to get her a bit wrapped up in things these days, maybe some secret trading or ferreting things out. i imagine she feels loyalty to magpie and resents those who might come out with accusations against him. 

i’d love her to have an outcast ride or die best friend from high  school, someone who was also on the black sheep side of things. she did participate in the high school literary magazine (layout) and on the newspaper (though not as seriously as one might have hoped) and certain undesirables spread rumors about the english teacher “favoring” her (at least some guiding figure finally liked her dammit). so bullies from high school are fully possible. she was kind of a weirdo (duh) so i imagine it would have been pretty normal to pick at her here and there, though she did try to fly under the radar a lot. people who used to harass her coming to her for pills now could be a thing to explore, or someone who dated her in high school but didn’t really want to be “out” about it due to you know like dumb high school social differences so resentment grew and it was a whole teen movie drama that ended up without the happy ending and now its weird when they see each other, which could go many ways. those she’s befriended or so forth since coming back to town down on her luck, also, would be welcome! 

anyway if you made it to the end of this ily very much and i hope we can plot asap huhu

#?? OOC #queued for opening i hope

[humanp30ple]

👁️ Lana 👁️

Basic

Name: Leilani Sanchez

Nickname: Lana, L

Age: 16

Gender/Pronouns/presentation: cis woman, she/her, masculine.

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Puerto Rican and Thai

Race: Asian Hispanic

Orientation: Lesbian? It’s complicated. She’s 99% sure she’s a lesbian

Known Languages: English, Spanish

Occupation: High school student, dreams of being an astrobiologist; wants to prove the existence of extraterrestrial life forms

Physical Description:

She’s a stocky young woman who stands at 5’8” and weighs 225. She has a waist that isn’t very defined, her shoulders and hips are about the same width. She has a relatively flat chest that she flattens further with a binder. Her bottom is flatter than it is round and most of her weight is situated around her torso and her upper thighs and arms. She has deeply tanned, slightly dry skin that’s prone to mild breakouts and covered in a light dusting of peach fuzz, dark brown eyes, and dark, shoulder-length, coily hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

She has a round face that is nearly as wide as it is long with her cheekbones being the widest part of her face. She has upturned, slightly protruding, hooded monolid eyes with rounded, bushy low arch eyebrows. Her nose has a wide bridge with a slight hump that leads into a broad tip and a wide nasal base. She has a wide mouth with a heavy lower lip and a rounded cupid’s bow. She has a slight overbite and requires braces. She has a toothy, crooked, contagious smile. Her ears are slightly larger than average and are round with an attached earlobe.

She has small hands with long, ovoid palms and short, chubby fingers. When she was younger she would bite her nails, causing them to become stubby and uneven. She doesn’t paint her nails often. When she does, it's usually with clear, black, white, navy blue, lime green, or candy apple red polish. She is left-handed.

She has three small beauty marks that form a triangle; one next to the head of her left eyebrow, one directly below the middle of her collar bone, and one on her neck to the left side of her windpipe.

She often wears a dark orange denim shirt over a white X-Files t-shirt with brown, loose-fitting, corduroy pants that are rolled up at the ankle, revealing a pair of plain maroon crew socks followed by a pair of distressed white hi-top classic converse.

Likes/Dislikes

Likes:

Investigating conspiracies and secret government shenanigans

Aliens and the possibility of extraterrestrial life

Space and space-related things

Unprompted discussions about philosophy, religion, and the nature of reality

Theoretical physics, quantum mechanics, and related sciences

Memes and vines and other funnies

Long road trips

Being right

Sweet, sour, spicy, and salty foods

Dislikes:

Being lied to

Being wrong about something and not knowing it

The thought of being alone in the universe

Being the last to know something

People who are quick to disbelieve

Bad journalism

Bitter foods

Favorite colors:

Orange and brown

Favorite Food(s):

Chicharrones de Pollo

Frybread with honey and powdered sugar

Favorite Drink(s):

Dr. Pepper

Favorite Song/Theme Song:

Touch​-​Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon

Movies/TV Shows/Performances: 

X-Files

In Search of…

Invader Zim

Book(s):

War of the Worlds - H.G. Wells

Favorite Subjects in school:

Trigonometry

Physics

Astronomy

Favorite animal(s):

Dogs

Favorite place(s): 

The library

Her room

The local observatory

Personality:  She's ambitious and driven, with a strong work ethic and the ability to visualize what others can't. She prides herself on having scrupulous attention to detail, a vivid imagination with a strong sense of compassion, and her ability to see through dishonesty and disingenuous motives; she sees how people and events are connected. When she comes to believe that something is important, they pursue that goal with a conviction and energy that can catch others off-guard. She won’t engage in any actions or promote beliefs just to benefit herself. Rather she does what she does and believes what she believes because she trusts that it will make the world a better place.

She’s very talkative and outspoken and prides herself in being straightforward and is neither subtle nor devious in her speech or behavior. She says what's on her mind and pulls no punches. According to some, she’s a little lacking in regard to tact and diplomacy due to her frankness. She’s opinionated and loves to share those opinions, even when literally no one asked her to, and she loves a good argument or debate. Still, she makes an honest effort to be mindful of others and how her words could affect them.

She is quick-tempered but isn’t known to hold grudges and although she can get quite angry, she doesn’t hold it in and stew about what bothers her. She gets upset, gets over it, then moves on.

She has an inquiring mind filled with thoughts that are a little unconventional and perhaps somewhat eccentric but are nevertheless unique to her and her alone. People tend to have a hard time understanding how she thinks or why she expresses herself in the ways she does. She likes to think of herself as being ahead of her time. Ideas and intellectual freedom are her top priority. She doesn’t like to be told how to do things and wants the freedom to do things her own way. There never seems to be enough time to do all the things she has on her mind. Mental restlessness causes her to always be on the search for new information and knowledge. She has unique ways of passing this new information along to others. Boredom is seldom a problem for her.

A lot of her thoughts and behavior is driven by a subconscious ambition for power, recognition, distinction, and status. She is not content to follow and craves a leading role in whatever she does. She’s a dedicated and tenacious worker capable of foregoing immediate comfort in order to achieve her long-range goals. She can easily become a workaholic and is very conscientious about doing a thorough job. She’s prone to being overly-enthusiastic in all of her endeavors, especially when it comes to doing research on topics that interest her such as paranormal activity and the possibility of coexisting with extraterrestrial life forms. She is always eager to share her findings with her friends, followers, and really anyone who will listen. However, sometimes her over-zealousness leaves others questioning her credibility.

At times she can come off as stubborn, impatient, self-centered, impulsive, and perhaps a little dogmatic. When someone challenges or criticizes her principles or values, they are likely to receive an alarmingly strong response. She’s highly vulnerable to criticism and conflict. Questioning her motives and methodology is the quickest and easiest way to get on her bad side.

She has a natural tendency to stand alone and do everything herself, thus she finds it very difficult to ask for help.

She’s extremely private when it comes to her personal life. She finds it difficult to truly open up, even to close friends. Trusting a new friend can be very challenging for her and she often feels there are few people in this world who truly get her.

She often gets so caught up in her pursuits that any of the cumbersome tasks that come between her and her ideal vision is deeply unwelcome. She likes to know that she is taking concrete steps toward her goals. If routine tasks feel like they are getting in the way – or worse yet, there is no goal at all – she will start to feel restless and disappointed.

Her passion, impatience for routine maintenance, idealism, and extreme privacy tend to leave her with few options for letting off steam. She frequently exhausts herself and struggles to find ways to balance her ideals with the realities of day-to-day living.

Misc. Information

She has a Chihuahua named Laika. He’s a coward and isn’t very intelligent and he looks like a sad rat but he’s trying his best and she loves him very much.

Kins Fox Mulder and Dib Membrane

Her first crush was Dana Scully

Runs a blog dedicated to documenting her experiences with, research into, and general passion for aliens and paranormal activity under the pseudonym “A. Leon”.

#oc #long post #aliens #aliencore #ufo #ufo hunting #wlw characters #cryptidcore #cryptids

[chaosgod4life]

Changing Fate || Harry Potter Reader Insert || Chapter one: Mayham

A young girl of age thirteen, suddenly appeared in front of a tent. A huge snake figure was hovering in the sky, however the girl did not take notice, as in her hands, she clutched seven books. All of these books were Harry Potter books, her favourite series. The girl soon did take notice however, that people began to shout, and looked up. She saw an adult male with flaming red hair, " Miss you need to get out of here. Take the next Portkey and get out." 

  The girl looked at the man, and then her books, ten times before saying, "Did I read for two days again? God, I need to stop doing that. This can't be real."

 "Miss truly the death eaters have begun to gather. I've got to get my children out if here. You can go with them if you don't know where to go." The red haired man entered the tent, then came back followed by four more red haired boys, and one red haired girl, along with a bushy brown hair girl, and a black hair boy. "Fred, George watch your sister. Ron help this young lady get to safety. Percy you come with me," he was saying talking to his red haired children.

  "Oh my God this is real holy cow," muttered the h/c hair girl. She picked up all the Harry Potter books. They might be useful to Death Eaters.

  "What the bloody hell. Hermione, I think you have a friend here," the tallest and youngest of the boys said staring at the girl's books. 

 "Don't just stare grab a book it won't hurt you," said Hermione sharply. The two of them picked up the girl's books.

Everyone was running so fast but the girl, managed to catch a faint glipse of Harry Potter, and ran over to him, his glasses were knocked off his face so the girl put them back on him. "You alright?"

 "Yeah,what is going on?" Harry asked.

  "That appeared," the girl said pointing at the snake figure. "It's not a good sign."

  "What does it mean?"

  The tallest and youngest red hair boy and Hermione, ran over to them. "Oh thank goodness, we lost the both of you," Hermione breathed.

  A group of wizards and witches appareted, in front of the four teenagers.

 "STOP, those are my kids!" Shouted the red hair man that the girl had first seen. The girl had already known if course who he was, but wanted to be careful.

 "Which one of you summoned the dark mark?" Asked one of the wizards.

 "The what?" Harry inquired.

 "You know who's symbol," Hermione responded pointing up.

 "Don't be ridiculous. They are just kids." The red haired man told the wizard.

 "I thought I heard someone over there," said Harry pointing towards an area of trees.

 "Yeah the culprit is over there. I don't even have my wand with so I couldn't have," said the youngest of the teenagers. More like don't have a wand at all, she thought bitterly.

 All the wizards except, the red haired one left.

"Miss what is your name and where are your parents?" he asked.

"Y/N,my parents aren't here. I um don't know how I got here," Y/N looked around to make sure it's just Harry,Ron, Hermione,and Mr. Weasley before continuing. "The books that you saw me with did you notice the titles? I'm from a different universe and it's just books in mine. Well movies as well but the books are better...when I said this can't be real that was because I couldn't believe that I've just been teleported into the world of the books I love so much. I know it doesn't make sense."

 "Did you get knocked in the head?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Ron!" Mr Weasley exclaimed at his son's behavior, "Y/N, where were you before you got here?"

  Hermione who had been looking at the books the enitre time spoke up, "Mr. Weasley I believe she's telling the truth look at these books."

 "Harry should too. I mean he is the main character," Y/N said passing Harry the first book opened at the seconed chapter.

 "I was told people had written books about me, but this is my real life!" Harry exclaimed flipping through the pages, "Ron look here is that trip to the zoo with my cousin."

 "Blimey Harry, I've never seen magic like this. It even has what you were thinking. How would anyone know that?" Ron said shocked.

 "Like I said I'm from a different universe. That book was written as fiction. It's one of if not the most popular book series in the world," Y/N explained.

 "So in your universe are you a witch or a muggle?" Hermione asked.

 "In my universe magic doesn't exist so I guess a muggle," Y/N responded.

 "Certainly it exists, you're here aren't you. If that's not magic I don't know what is.  Your ministry of magic is just very good at passing it off as fiction!" Exclaimed Mr Weasley excitedly.

 "I guess that is a possibility. I never thought of it like that," Y/N said thoughtfully.

 "Yes, well you better come along with is. Molly would never forgive me if I didn't bring you home with us."

 "Alright. This is crazy," Y/N sighed.

 "I agree," stated Ron.

 "Really Ron?" Hermione asked annoyed.

 "What it's true. It's bloody brilliant, now we can know what's going to happen if it's all true. Hermione you read all the books and tell us who wins," Ron said excitedly.

 "I don't think you'll like what happens in some of the books. Especially book seven," said Y/N recalling Fred's death.

 "Why what happens?" Ron asked nervously.

 "You fail out of Hogwarts because you never do your school work. Now we need to find Fred , George and Ginny. Y/N, you can tell us later," said Hermione.

 Y/N laughed, "Yeah let's go find them."

They head for an area that Hermione had last seen them.

 "Fred! George! Ginny!" Mr Weasley shouted.

 "Over here dad," said Fred

 "Thank goodness," Mr Weasley sighed.

George gave Ron a noogie, "you little prat. I actually got worried for a minute!"

 "Get off!"

 "Dad we saw the mark is anyone dead?" Asked Fred.

 "No whoever cast it disappeared. They just wanted to scare everyone."

 "Well he got his wish," said Harry

 "Yeah definitely," Y/N sighed.

 Hi I'm George, this is my brother Fred, and our sister Ginny. We weren't introduced when the mayhem started. Don't think I've seen you around before. So what school do you go to?" 

 "I'm Y/N. No you wouldn't have seen me before, I'm from a different universe where this is just books,and movies,but the books are better."

 "Not another Hermione," groaned Fred. 

 "Excuse me what's wrong with another Hermione?" inquired Hermione.

 "Nothing nothing but there is only so much perfection the world can take."

 "Let's go back to the tent. Y/N you can room with Hermione and Ginny. We leave first thing in the morning," Mr Weasley interjected.

 "Okay!" Y/N said brightly.

 The group began to walk back to the tent

"Hi, Y/N!" Ginny greeted her.

 "Hello," responded Y/N.

 "So what's it like in your universe?" Ginny inquired curiously.

 "Well,none of this is real,it's 2019,and there's always at least one person talking about the Harry Potter books or movies. Everyone hates getting spoiled the ending of a book or something else. At least a lot of people are myself included. Though I technically did get them spoiled by watching the movies first," Y/N explained.

 "That is crazy that is so far in the future. It's only 1994!" Ginny excaimed.

 "I knew it was somewhere around that time," Y/N admitted.

 "So you've read all the books so you know my future, right?" she asked glancing at Harry, "can you tell me anything? Will you tell me?"

 "You and Harry get married and have kids," Y/N whispered.

Ginny jumps up and shouts, "Yes!"

 Everyone turns and looks at her and she blushes.

 "Sorry," she mummbled embarrassed, Y/N stifled a chuckle.

 "I wonder is it right to read the books you brought?" Hermione asked.

"Of course it is. People go to those frauds like trawleny all the time. This will make us famous," Ron replied smirking.

 "Now kids, I don't want you reading these tonight," Mr Weasley interjected.

 Everyone reaches the tent and, goes to their rooms, Y/N going with Hermione and Ginny.

 The next morning Mr. Weasley  wakes everyone up early. Everyone heads to the portkey area. There is a large crowd. Mr Weasley talks with the ministry official and the group all gather around a mangy old boot. "Ok Y/N make sure you touch the boot," said Mr Weasley, and Y/N did just that.

 Everyone appears on a hill not far from the burrow, and start tracking towards their home.

 "You ok? Traveling by portkey made me feel pretty sick. Not as bad as floo powder though," Harry said to the girl.

 "Yeah. I kind of knew what to expect still it was kind of strange," Y/N admitted.

 They all go around a corner and  the burrow comes in sight. A cry echoed along the lane, "Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Excaimed Mrs. Weasley running towards everyone. "Arthur I've been so worried, so worried!" She hugged her husband. "You're all all right, you're alive, oh boys!"

 She grabbed Fred and George and squeezed them in such a tight hug their heads banged together,"Ouch mum  you're strangling us!" the twins said together.

 "I shouted at you before you left. It's all I've been thinking about. What if you know who had got you and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.S!" She began to cry again.

 "We are ok Molly everyone is safe. Come on now," said Mr. Weasley prying her off the twins.

Once Mrs. Weasley composed herself she saw Y/N, "Oh hello."

 "Hello, i'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you."

 "We met Y/N at the quidditch match, and she had lost her family, so she is going to stay with us for a bit. Speaking of I need to send that owl to Dumbledore. Let's get inside and have a nice cup of tea," Mr. Weasley explained. They all head inside and Y/N can't help but look around in awe at all the magic.

 Hermione makes Mrs Weasley a cup of tea. Mr Weasley adds fire whiskey to it and hands it to her.

 "Boys can you hand me the daily prophet, I need to see what it says. I will need to go into the office. It will be crazy." 

 "I'll go with you father. Mr crouch will need all hands on deck," said Percy.

 "Mrs. Weasley has Hedwig come back yet?" Harry asked.

  "No dear I haven't seen him come back."

 "Ok do you mind if I go drop off some stuff in Ron's room?"

 "No dear you can run along. Y/N dear we can talk later. I'm sorry I'm sure Dumbledore can help you find your family they are probably losing their minds just like I was."

 "Definitely. My mom is probably freaking out," sighed Y/N

 "Dumbledore will find them I'm sure. They can apperate here or we can add them to our floo network."

Y/N smiled, "I'll be upstairs with Harry I want to talk with him." Y/N quickly went upstairs before Mrs. Weasley could argue, and found Harry, "Hey,can we talk?"

 "Sure what's up?"

 "Well,you woke up not that long ago with your scar hurting. I know why. Please don't freak out but when your scar is hurting it's um, related to Voldemort. You see your scar is hurting because he is getting stronger. He's trying to come back. Maybe if possible I can stop that,or at the very least postpone it. I'm determined to do something good while here."

 "Thank God. I'm not crazy. I've been waitingon a letter from my god father. I was asking about that very thing."

 "Yeah I know. You're not at all concerned about what I just said? Or surprised I said Voldemort's name? To be honest I wasn't expecting you to have that reaction."

 "I'm just glad I'm not crazy. I was beginning to think that I was because normal scars don't start hurting."

 "Well it isn't a normal scar."

  "Yeah you can say that again," laughed Harry.

 Ron and Hermione walk into the room,

 "I'm pretty sure mom is going to start knitting you a sweater soon," said Ron and Y/N laughed.

 "I wonder what Dumbledore will say, hopefully we will know soon," said Hermione thoughtfully.

 "Yeah I wonder what Dumbledore will say," agreed Y/N.

 Ron looked out the window,and said "I don't think you have long to wonder. I'm pretty sure that's him walking up the way."

 "What?" asked Y/N, and she looked out the window too. Sure enough Mr Weasley was meeting him outside the house and handed Dumbledore a book. "I wonder what book that was," Y/N said curious.

 Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore both look up. Ron and Y/N step back, "I don't know but professor Dumbledore is going to want to talk to you about it for sure."

 "I'm partly hoping it wasn't book six," admitted Y/N

 "What happens in book six?" asked Harry.

 "You don't want to know. It has the most Dumbledore parts though."

 "He's coming in," said Ron suddenly.

 They all began to listen and hear Dumbledore come in downstairs,

"Hello Molly, yes I could use a nice cup of tea. Yes Arthur told me about your guest. I'm going to help her find her family. Yes it was a very frightening thing to happen at the world cup. I'm glad everyone is ok. Do you mind if I head upstairs? Yes I'll just speak with her up there."

 Ron looked at Y/N and then his messy room and began throwing stuff in boxes.

 "Really Ron, I don't think professor Dumbledore is going to care about your room," Hermione said amused.

 "He might," responded Ron.

 Dumbledore entered into the room ducking through the doorway, "Good afternoon everyone."

 "Good afternoon professor," Harry,Ron,and Hermione all said at the same time.

 "Would you three please leave Y/N and I alone so we can discuss this new situation?" asked Dumbledore.

 "Yes professor," the three said, and then rushed out of the room.

 "So, Y/N, it's nice to meet you,"  Dumbledore held out his hand to shake Y/N's, and she did so.

 "It's nice to meet you too."

 "So tell me about where you are from and what you know of how you got here."

 "Well,I am from a different universe where this is just a bunch of books and movies. I don't know anything on how I could've gotten here, I'm very confused still," Y/N admitted.

 "So in your universe, do you know of any witches or wizards?"

 "No. I always believed in magic but I never knew anyone who could use magic." 

 "Have you been able to do anything unusual since you've been in this universe?"

 "No, not that I'm aware of anyways."

 "I don't know if it's because you are from a different time and universe, but I sense magic in you. I'd like you to come to Hogwarts. I'm not sure how we will get you home. I would like to take your books and read through all of them."

 "I can go to Hogwarts?" asked Y/N squealing, "This is a dream come true!"

 "Yes, I definitely think it will be important to have you there. My question for you is what do you wish to do while you are here. Your books appear to go to the defeat of Voldemort. Do you plan to change anything? If so to what end?"

 "I do plan on changing things. I would like to prevent the deaths of as many as I can."

 "A noble quest."

 "I do have a question. As I am thirteen that would make me the age to be in my third year of Hogwarts but as it would be my first year what year would I be in at Hogwarts?"

[hannahgrunberg-blog]

Chapter 1: Hannah’s Exodus

February 2nd, 1939

The crisp, cold early morning wind swept through the frost-covered railway platform. Parents and children (as old as seventeen) milled about the platform, where a train sat on the track in the middle of the crowd. The exhaust from the old, rusty train emitted hot steam, creating a false illusion of warmth for many. There were hundreds of crying toddlers, who were too young to understand what was going on; why they were forced to wear these large tags around their necks, or why they were handed over to men and women wearing red armbands with hooked crosses. However, there were a number of children who did understand. One of them was eleven year old Hannah Grunberg.

The fear of leaving her mother behind was very clear in the little girl’s eyes. Hannah nervously grasped the small bag that was handed to her. It was filled with necessities, and would soon be all she owned in the world. She wasn’t allowed to bring a lot of material items, only those that would serve her well in a foreign country. Cold sweat crept down her neck as bodies shifted around her. This caused the prickly string that was tied around it to scratch her skin. The worries increased as she heard the sound of her thudding heart mixed with the echoes of footsteps.

She knew she would have to leave Germany eventually. It took her parents long enough to realize this—that they couldn't be safe. Their rights as citizens had been stripped away from them. First Hannah couldn't go to school with her friends, then she wasn't allowed to go to the park or movie theater, and then her Father lost his job as a dentist. Her mother wasn't allowed to teach. They were very smart people, but they weren't smart enough to understand that they weren't wanted. Jews were no longer normal people.

Hannah’s mother knelt down to fix her daughter’s tag, a piece of cardboard that was tied with string. The number 1428 was printed in bold colors. She made sure it was tightly fixed onto her thin red coat. She fiddled with her daughter's braids, caressing her dark hair for what may be the very last time.

"Do you remember your English lessons, Leibling?" her Mother pestered in a quiet tone, "I want you to be able to communicate, even if it's only a little."

"Yes," Hannah replied, though it wasn't very clear English with her strong German accent. She only learned a few words her mother knew, but they may help her communicate a bit.

Her mother's face fell. She has always been a spirited person, but it was rare to see a smile nowadays. She was always beautiful when she smiled; her cheekbones lifted and her short, wavy hair framed her perfectly. After her father was taken away on that dreadful night, her mother couldn't smile. It was as if Hannah reminded her too much of him, with her bushy brown hair and hooked nose that was quite big for the face of a ten year old.

If only she could've seen her mother smile before she left, but of course the Nazis had taken away her spirit too.

"Come here," her mother said, gently. Hannah nearly tackled her, as she wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm scared," Hannah whispered. “I don't know if I'll ever see you again. What if they take you away like they took Papa?"

"Hush, hush," she tried to calm down her child. Tears streamed down the little girl's face. "Everything will be alright."

"No, it won't!" Hannah whimpered. "I can't think of happy thoughts when I know I have to leave you!"

"I'll never leave you. I'll always be right there," she softly pointed to the right side of her daughter's chest. "Your heart will have room for me, won't it?"

"If it's big enough," she said, trying not to choke on her tears.

"There is no one with a heart as big as yours," her mother said, her voice low and mellow. "Make sure that the English don't allow you to forget who you are."

The little girl slowly nodded. She nearly jumped when she heard the announcer's loud voice echo through the station. "Final call to all the kinder! Final call to all the kinder!"

As she heard the announcement, Hannah’s mother grabbed her daughter by her hands, pushing through the pool of people. A guard with a stern, menacing face checked her number before ushering her onto the train. "By, my Liebling," she whispered. With that, she was pushed backwards and into the sea of teary-eyed parents.

Hannah was shoved into a compartment with three girls whom all wore long skirts, black stockings, and plaid shirts. The tallest must’ve been no-older than sixteen. Her brown, thick braided hair separated her from the other two blonde girls. All of the children nervously looked out the window, waving to their parents.  Hannah joined them by the window. She pressed her face against the cold glass. She locked her eyes with her mother, who was all the way in the background.

This was the last image of her Mother she'd ever see. No smile, just droopy, watery eyes. There was no place for her in Germany, and she knew it. What she didn't know, was that this was one of the many moments that would haunt her forever.

"Hannah! Hannah!" a voice whined in her ear.

The girl was awoken by a rough shake. Even though she met her just a few moments ago, she felt as if little Aviva's hands were stronger than her own. No wonder her sisters sometimes got annoyed of her. This adorable, button-nosed six year old really couldn't calm down! She was quite small for her age, but her blonde hair that was braided into tightly weaved German braids made her appear older. Hannah thought the style looked really nice on her. They brought out her big, innocent blue eyes.

"Are we in London? I could feel the train stopping!" she cried.

Hannah rubbed her eyes, the image in front of her started to get clearer. Aviva's older sisters Miriam and Dinah were looking at her with a teasing smile. She got to know them the last half hour before she passed out into a deep slumber. Miriam was a sixteen year old girl with a very straight, mature posture. On the other hand, Dinah slouched in her seat, blowing the short strands of her wild, curly blonde hair out of her eyes. Hannah learned that the Klein sisters lived in Munich, and that they were also orthodox. She thought that orthodox people were rather fascinating because of how tightly they followed the rules. Although Hannah celebrated holidays like Hanukkah and Passover, her parents were never strict about religion.

They all agreed that life was peaceful for them until Hitler grew into power. Miriam told her that her family struggled very hard to get all three of them passports. She originally wasn’t planning on going, but her chances to get selected increased as their father was put into labor. The girls found common ground through that, bonding as they also tried to calm the youngest.

"We won't be in London for ages," Hannah replied. "You're just imagining it.”

"You've been asking us for the past five minutes," Dinah sighed. "I’m getting tired of you asking the same question thousands of times."

"Dinah," Miriam scolded in a gentle tone. "Just tell her that she should be more patient."

"I've been patient," Aviva said.

"No, you weren't," Dinah countered.

"Dinah," Miriam used a harsher voice.

"Alright," the girl sighed, mockingly. "You should be more patient."

Miriam rolled her eyes as her younger sister spoke. "We're not going to be there in a long time. We won't get to London right away. We'll ride on a Ferry from Holland on the Dutch border."

The little girl made a pouty face. Just by the way the three talked to each other, Hannah was able to read them like an open book. There was this inner desire to have at least one sibling to talk to; to grow up together and argue with to pass time. Even if she were going away, she'd still be alone.

"Do you know if you're going to get separated?" Hannah asked, as gently as possible.

The three sisters gave each other uneasy looks. They didn't need to say in words that they were worried—their eyes said it all. Despite all their bickering the last moment, they couldn't live without each other.

"I think we are," Miriam answered, unsure. "The last group of children was from an orphanage. I'm sure siblings were separated."

Aviva's eyes drooped, "I don't want us to be separated."

"We're probably going to be put in foster care," Dinah said, bitterly. "No one wants a girl who’s already in their teens."

"Of course we'll all have a foster family even if we're not together," Miriam said, calmly.

"Who would want to take care of us?" Dinah said, before turning to Hannah with a sneer. "You're lucky you're eleven."

Hannah looked down as she spoke. There was no feeling of shame, but a feeling of sympathy. She knew what it was like when you felt unwanted. It was all too familiar ever since the Fuher declared that all Jews were schwein. Aryan classmates would throw rocks and kick dust into her eye. She heard their taunting voices echo through the walls of her mind: “Jüdisches Schwein! Jüdisches Schwein!“  Her friends couldn't play with her; their parents wouldn't allow their child to be friends with a Jewish girl. This moment caused a black hole to grow in her heart, one that eventually took away her innocence.

"Don't say that," Hannah said.

"If it weren't for Hitler," Dinah spat, gritting her teeth as she spoke. "We wouldn't have had to leave."

"Dummkopf," Aviva agreed.

Miriam shook her head. Hannah couldn't help but smile. Children learned that "bad language" in school. When parents argued, they always called each other names because they were angry. Children easily picked them up, especially if they were the target of those words. She remembered the first time her Mother told her that she shouldn't be a dummkopf and repeat those phrases. Though it was hard to ignore, Hannah made sure to not speak like that in front of her parents.

Memories of her parents seemed to flood her mind, even the ones Hannah usually couldn't remember. She lived in a small, but simple little house in the busy streets of Berlin. Since both of her parents were very smart and hard-working people, they didn't struggle as much after the events of the Great War. Hannah was well aware that most people were struggling and living off of whatever they could fend for. However, she had food on her table every day and didn't have to worry. Hitler thought that they didn’t understand real true suffering, but that changed ever since the Nuremberg Laws were passed.

As the train rattled on, the rhythm of the wheels nearly pulled her into a slumber. She wanted to sleep. Her mother had woken her early this morning. At the thought of her mother, a knife stabbed Hannah's heart, jogging all the memories she'd tried to forget back into place. Her sluggish mind focused on nothing but her weariness, slowly making her memories hazy. The noise around her slowly deafened as her mind’s theatre played a series of short films. She remembered when she'd tried to enter the park and been told she wasn't allowed, and that day when her teacher had called her to the front of the class and dismissed her as sub-human.

It was impossible to be accepted in Germany as a Jew. This caused her to wonder if she was going to have a hard time being in England because she was from Germany. She always heard of Jews being tortured just for their religion. Sephardic Jews who dared not to convert to Christianity in Spain were banished or persecuted. According to the Torah, Jews were enslaved by the Egyptians (the whole story of Moses was confusing to her, no matter how many times she heard it on Passover). Now Hannah was on her own exodus along with more than a hundred Jewish children.

As a dark curtain fell over her war-torn world, Hannah slept. In a few days, she thought, I'll be in England. There, I'll be safe. There, I'll be free. With that, the train swept her away from the German border and into the unknown.

#Narnia Fanfiction Hannah World War Two Kindertransport history historical fiction fNarnia fanfiction narnia

[scarheaded-ferret]

Hey my Dude, I was wondering could you write a Drarry Soul mate AU? So when you meet your soulmate you get their first name on your wrist/forearm. Also could you add background pairings ron x Hermione and ginny x Luna? Thanks!

Sorry for the wait!! I love soulmate au’s :^D, here you go my dude (this one is long oof):

Harry stepped up to the small platform in the robes shop, where a young blond boy was getting fitted for what looked like various sets of robes. Harry felt a strange tingly feeling on his wrist as he looked at the boy, that soon spread throughout his body. It kind of felt similar to what he felt when he received his wand. Harry looked down at his wrist to see two words inscribed on it: Draco Malfoy. Harry pouted, it looked like a name. But why was there a name on his wrist?

The young boy on the small platform gasped and Harry looked up into bright grey eyes.

“What’s your name?” The young boy demanded. Harry didn’t really have a good feeling about this, but he told the boy anyway.

“I’m Harry Potter,” He said. The boy’s eyebrows rode up, and a look of fear washed over his face before he ran out of the shop. Harry watched him go, confused by the strange interaction. The woman who was fitting the boy sighed, and told Harry to step up for his own robes. Harry would have to ask Hagrid what the name on his wrist meant.

***

Tears welled in Draco’s eyes as he raced to the wand store his mother was at. It wasn’t Ollivander’s, but rather a smaller, more expensive chain that fixed and restored old and broken wands. He found his mother immediately and tugged on her robes.

“What is it, my darling? What is the matter?” She said, cupping his cheek. Draco shoved his wrist in front of her and her eyes widened. “Oh- oh dear, we mustn’t tell your father. Draco, you mustn’t tell anyone. Do you understand?” She asked, and Draco nodded. She wiped the tears from his face and once they had gathered their things they apparated back home. A house-elf was sent to retrieve Draco’s forgotten robes.

Draco had grown up his whole life hearing about soulmates. The one person who you were destined to love. When you first met them, their name would appear on your wand wrist, revealing the person who were meant to love and be loved by. He had read all the stories as a child, until his father had reprimanded him and told him to read books more fitting for “a boy his age”. Draco had never let the stories leave his heart though, and he constantly had his mother tell him the story of her soulmate.

Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black had met before they could properly hold a wand. They had met at one of the parties hosted for pureblood families, and had remained friends since. They went through the proper courting and got married almost immediately after Hogwarts. A perfect love story.

Yet not every human was a good person, just because they had a soulmate didn’t mean that they stopped being a bad person. Lucius was quick to inform Draco as a child that unless his mate was a pureblood girl from a nice family, he would not marry them. Draco had cried at the thought of being separated from his soulmate, but his mother reminded him that his soulmate probably would be a nice pureblood girl, whom he would love very much.

Draco now sat on his bed, sobbing into his pillow as his mother stroked his back soothingly.

“Father won’t let me marry Harry Potter, won’t he?” Narcissa shook her head sadly and continued to rub Draco’s back.

“It’ll be alright my love, perhaps you and young Harry could simply be friends? Not all soulmates are in romantic relationships,” Draco sniffed and nodded his head. His mind eased by the thought of he and Harry becoming friends. Maybe he could be with his soulmate after all.

***

When Harry showed Hagrid the name on his wrist, Hagrid had chuckled softly and patted the top of Harry’s head.

“Why s’ just yer soulmate, figures you’d get stuck with a Malfoy, but I bet he’ll turn round for yer sake,” Harry was confused. Soulmates were made up, weren’t they? He used to hide behind the couch and watch the movies that Dudley watched if he got the chance, and sometimes they were about soulmates. But apparently in the wizarding world they were very much real, and Hagrid had told him about how every wizard and witch got their soulmate’s name tattooed magically on their wrist when they first met them.

“So this- Draco Malfoy, is my soulmate. Even if it’s a boy?” Harry asked. Hagrid nodded.

“Wizards are a tad more- accepting than muggle folk, no one can control their soulmate, and it’d be rude to keep em’ apart. But some purebloods like to have their children marry for money or a good name” Harry nodded slowly, assimilating this.

“But- if he’s my soulmate, why did he run away?”

Hagrid seemed lost in thought for a moment.

“Ye should ask him that when ye get to Hogwarts. I’m sure he’d be happy that Harry Potter is his soulmate, eh?” Hagrid nudged him and laughed, Harry smiled and dug into his ice cream. He had a soulmate, he thought as he took a bite, a soulmate named Draco Malfoy.

***

Harry had been on the train with Ron when a bushy haired girl stormed into their compartment, asking about some other boy’s lost toad. Ron hadn’t responded, and had dropped the carton of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans that he was holding. He pulled down the sleeve of his jumper and gasped at his wrist.

“Are- are you Hermione Granger?” the girl, Hermione, looked at him inquisitively.

“Yes? And you are?” She asked. Suddenly, a confused look ran over her face, and she too looked down at her wrist and gasped.

“I’m Ron Weasley! I think we’re-”

“Soulmates,” she finished for him, beaming as she sat across from Harry and Ron.

“I guess we better get to know each other, I read up on soulmates before I got here, my parents are muggles,” She told him. She then turned to Harry, who was smiling softly at the pair with amusement. “You’re Harry Potter!” she said, looking at his uncovered scar. Harry nodded at Hermione and shook the hand she held out to him.

“Er- nice to meet you,” He told her.

“Have you found your soulmate already, Harry?” She asked. Ron looked at him too, still grinning from the excitement of finding his soulmate.

“Yeah, uh here,” Harry held out his wrist and Ron promptly choked on a bean.

“Draco Malfoy? Oh, that’s rotten luck, the Malfoy’s are a bad sort, all blood purists and snobby,” Harry frowned, he didn’t like to hear his soulmate being insulted, but he trusted Ron more than Malfoy, who he had actually never met. Just then the compartment door opened, and the subject of their conversation peered in.

“It’s true then, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts,” He smirked at Harry, and his eyes narrowed as they flicked over Ron.

“You- You’re the boy from the robes shop, we’re soulmates,” Harry tried to smile at him.

“Yes,” Malfoy agreed. He stuck out his hand, “I think as soulmates, we should be friends, you wouldn’t want to be with the wrong sort now,” Malfoy said, glancing distastefully at both Ron and Hermione. Harry became angry at that, these were his first friends and Malfoy was insulting them. Soulmate or not, it wasn’t right.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” He said, and winced as hurt took over Malfoy’s face.

“Fine then, should’ve known you’d be a lousy soulmate anyhow, Potter,” Draco spat. With that Draco strode out of the compartment, two large boys following close behind. Harry never did get to ask him why he ran away.

***

Their rivalry continued throughout the years, both choosing to ignore the fact that they were soulmates. It was his 4th year and Harry was thinking of someone to ask to the yule ball. He approached Ginny, but found she was going with Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw in his year and Ginny’s soulmate. Harry was happy for Ron’s little sister, but couldn’t help the flash of disappointment in being denied a date. He ended up going alone to the yule ball, and though Ron and Hermione made sure that they spent most of their time with him and not just each other, he couldn’t help but feeling a pang of loneliness.

He glared at Malfoy, who was spinning Pansy Parkinson around gracefully, his blond hair wasn’t slicked back, but fell in loose strands that framed his face elegantly. Harry just wished that he had a soulmate who could actually love him, not one who insulted his friends and had tried to ruin his life on multiple occasions. Not many knew that they were soulmates, for neither Draco or Harry were eager to tell others. Harry just wished that Malfoy could actually love him.

***

It was his 6th year, and Draco sobbed into his arms as he curled into himself tightly in the hospital wing. Potter, his supposed soulmate, had just torn him open- on purpose. Draco couldn’t help but pine towards the Gryffindor throughout his years at Hogwarts. He knew that after his mistake on the train, that Potter would never be his friend. So Draco took to trying to get a rise out of Potter every chance he could, just to see his reaction.

Two days ago, however, he had just wanted Potter to leave. Draco’s home had been overtaken by that monster, and his parents could be killed any day now. Not that Draco cared too much about his father. Only his mother, yet, if his father wasn’t there, there wouldn’t be anyone to protect her. The bloody cabinet he was supposed to fix wasn’t working, and the last thing he needed was Potter barging in and disrupting his breakdown.

The pain he felt as Potter slashed his chest open had been more than physical. It proved that his soulmate hated him, that there wasn’t anyone out there meant to love him. And it hurt. Draco cried himself to sleep in the hospital bed that night, luckily there were no other occupants in the wing with him, so there was no one to disturb him.

Draco woke the next morning to feel a pressure around his hand. He jolted up and looked down to see his pale fingers entwined with darker ones. His eyes followed up along the arm of what could only be Harry Potter, and was met with the Gryffindor’s sleeping form. His glasses were askew and his hair was a mess, but then again, it always was like that.

Draco slowly extracted his hand and rolled over, pretending that it had never happened. He must still be woozy from the pain potions, or maybe he was dreaming. Draco pinched himself and looked behind him, but Potter was still there.

Draco turned back round and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, hoping that Potter would leave before he would wake up. Draco was confused. Why was Potter holding his hand? They were soulmates but- Potter hated him. Maybe the bloody git feels guilty for treating you like a practice board for a Diffindo charm. That was a pretty likely option for Potter, who Draco had watched throughout his teen years. It’s just guilt, his hand probably fell or something, and it just ended up that way. Yes, that seemed like a more logical option for Draco, and he fell asleep once more.

When he woke up, Potter was thankfully gone and Snape had come for him.

***

Harry winced as he was pushed to the ground in front of Malfoy.

“Is it him, Draco? Is it Potter? Look again,”

“I- I can’t be sure,” Draco responded shakily. It was Potter, though, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let his father know that. Potter’s bright green eyes were slightly hidden behind the hexed bubbles that covered his face, and they gazed up at Draco. Draco gave one more look at Potter before standing and going back to his mother. She gave him a concerned look and he shook his head. She knew he was lying.

***

Harry needed to get to the forbidden forest, he had already said his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione. But he needed to find someone else now. It was his luck that he spotted the signature white-blond color of his hair in the sea of running students, and Harry quickly grabbed him. Malfoy froze and put his wand under Harry’s neck until he saw who it was and slowly lowered his wand. Yet his eyes were still wide and fearful.

Harry didn’t say anything. But he leaned in and kissed Draco chastely. Draco stumbled, but leaned into the kiss quickly.

“W-why?” He asked Harry shakily.

“I need to die,” Harry whispered. Draco’s mouth went agape and he opened his mouth to say something but Harry kissed him again. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then he ran away.

***

It was over, Voldemort’s corpse lay at Harry’s feet and Draco’s heart soared. In what felt like just a minute ago, Hagrid had carried Harry’s limp form into the courtyard, but then he had jumped up and ran at Voldemort, killing the Dark Lord with a simple Expelliarmus. Draco started to run towards him, but was jerked back violently. He turned around to be met with a glaring Auror. Draco shut his eyes as they apparated. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.

***

Harry watched in horror as they brought Draco out. He had only stayed a week in Azkaban, awaiting his trial, yet his hair was already dirty and matted, and there was a series of fresh bruises and scars that dotted his face. Harry guessed that they hadn’t even allowed him to clean up after the battle. When they called him up, Harry stood and proceeded to tell the Wizengamot how Draco was forced into his role as a Death Eater, how Draco has saved his life, and how Harry had saved his. He left out that they were soulmates, and soon Draco was released on one month’s probation and house arrest. Harry didn’t get the chance to talk to him afterwards.

***

Draco kept his head down as he walked into the Great Hall for his 8th year. He sat at the table specifically designed for the returning students, and refused to return Potter’s stare from the other end of the table. The speech McGonagall presented was lighthearted and told of equality, how no prejudices should be held, the war was over, etc.

Draco just wanted to get to his dorm as quick as possible. He barely touched his food before he stood and silently walked out. He ignored the whispers and glares that followed him and made his way to the 8th year dorms that were located on the previously unused 3rd floor corridor.

He made his way up to where the boys dorms were, and searched to find the one that had his name on it. There were four boys to a room, and only four rooms in the hallway, so it wasn’t hard to find his own. Dread engulfed him when he saw his name listed amongst Weasley’s, Boot’s and Potter’s.

Draco pushed through the door and went to the bed where his trunk was sat. He changed into a white t-shirt and pajama pants, and slid into his bed. He made sure to close the curtains and cast a silencing charm, in case he had a nightmare. He knew it would be unlikely- considering that Draco would probably not be able to fall asleep that night.

***

Harry picked around his food until he heard Hermione scoff.

“Go after him, Harry,” she told him softly. Harry looked up at his best friend and furrowed his brows.

“He wouldn’t want to talk to me,” He told her.

“Like hell he wouldn’t, the git’s been in love with you since forever, and so have you,” Ron told him. Hermione clucked her tongue at his swearing and swatted his shoulder. She turned back to Harry.

“You shouldn’t outright force him into anything, but maybe befriend him. After all, me and Ron didn’t start dating until 6th year,” Harry nodded and bit his lip before rising and walking swiftly out of the Great Hall. He was gonna befriend Draco Malfoy. He was finally gonna befriend his soulmate.

***

3 months later…

Draco curled into the warmth that was his boyfriend as they lay cuddled together in Draco’s bed. Harry’s head was tucked under his chin, and had wrapped himself around Draco like a koala bear. Draco ran his hand through the strands on Harry’s neck and leant his head down to kiss his head. Harry groaned softly and shifted beneath him. Draco watched as his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled sleepily at Draco.

“Hullo, love,” He muttered and Draco kissed him softly. It was 3 months ago that Harry had begun to sit with him at meals and classes, offered to have a seeker’s game on the pitch, and study in the library. After a weak of his badgering, Draco complied and the two did almost everything together.

It was on Halloween that Draco had found Harry curled up by himself on his bed, crying softly. Draco had remembered the significance of that date for him, the date of his parent’s deaths, and had pulled Harry into his arms. Draco had wondered why he wasn’t with Weasley and Granger, but found that Harry had told them to leave him on his own. Yet, he hadn’t pushed Draco away and although Harry was shocked at first by the gesture, he had leaned into the comfort. They had fallen asleep like that, and the next morning Harry had kissed him as they got up together. They had been dating ever since.

“Good morning,” Draco whispered. Harry let his eyes close again and he tucked his head under Draco’s own once more.

“What’s the time?” he muttered into Draco’s neck.

“Half eight,” Draco said softly. He twirled one of Harry’s curls round his finger. “We need to get up,” He dislodged himself from Harry and laughed as Harry grunted in discontent. He began to get dressed and Harry rose a couple minutes later.

They walked down to the Great Hall together. Before they ate, Draco’s mother’s barn owl swooped down in front of him and dropped a small letter. She was still on house arrest and he wrote to her weekly. She was aware of his relationship with Harry, and had been surprisingly supportive. Apparently Lucius’ opinion on the matter was irrelevant now that he was in Azkaban for life. Draco tucked away the letter to read later and pulled a cup of tea towards himself.

He turned and watched as Harry piled a meager amount of food on his plate. He tsked and put another spoonful of potatoes and eggs on his plate, as well as another scoop of beans on Harry’s toast. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes but a smile flickered at his mouth.

Draco looked up as he sipped his tea and faintly smiled at the sight in front of him. Ginny Weasley had closed her eyes and was leaning her head on Luna’s shoulder as Luna read aloud from a book of magical creatures in the America’s. Ginny would smile every now and then and ask Luna to repeat a fact, which Luna gladly recited. He turned to spare a glance at Harry and found his boyfriend beaming at him.

“They’re happy, aren’t they?” Draco whispered, returning his smile softly.

“Yes, and so are we” Harry said as he leaned in to kiss him.

#drarry #drarry ask #drarry soulmate au #soulmate au #draco x harry #harry x draco #my writing #drarry squad #drarry oneshot #background ronmione #background linny

[miscellaneousfanfictionslut]

Harry Potter Appearances 1 // By The Book

By The Book // Harry Potter Appearances 1

          I’m in a book club and we started talking about the problems of the Harry Potter movies and one of the main issues we all had was some of the appearances of the characters. Which gave me the idea to do this little thing called “By The Book” where I talk about how I envisioned characters based off of their book appearances. Marauders included.

Gryffindors

Harry Potter:

“ Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. … Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape... The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. “

I imagined Harry (in the first book) to be extremely small, almost as if he was a first grader and being very petite. His hair in my head would be like, three times the size of his head, and would be curly, jet black, and messy. His eyes were described as almost once so I thought of them like that and of course, bright green.

Further in the book, however, I imagined him a bit different. He kept his messy, wild, jet black curly hair but his wieght and height had changed. I think this is because characters is further books described him as “tall” so I imagined him as taller and more strong looking. Probably around 5′6 during his fifth year.

Ronald Weasley:

“ tall, thin and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. firey red hair “

A lot of people say that Ron isn’t attractive, which with how people draw him I can see why. However, I always imagined him to be much more handsome than Harry. I imagined him very tall and lanky, small, and very boyish looking. His hands and feet were very large and freckles covered everything on his body. My favorite part of him was always his hair, because I took “firey red hair” literally and thus led me to think his hair was fire engine red.

His appearance never really changed much for me, he just got taller and his hands and feet just got bigger over the years.

Hermione Granger:

“ She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. “

I think Hermione appearance was a major let down for me, as it was constantly said that she had bushy hair and large front teeth. If anybody is wonder why she didn’t have large front teeth it is because Emma could not talk well with them in, I imagine that was like having dracula vangs in.

Though back to the point, I imagined Hermione to have large, frizzy, bushy brown hair that was, like Harry, three times the size of her head. Her teeth I imagined weren’t very big actually, I don’t know why but I considered them normal, which now thinking about it was probably because my two front teeth are bucked. We don’t get much about her body size unlike the boys (tall, small, skinny, lanky, etc.) but I always seen her as more tall but on the heavier size.

When she was older in book four, I imagined her to not had grown much and her to be skinner than before.

Fred & George Weasley:

“ shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky fiery red hair, freckles “

I kind of ignored the book with their appearance and imagined them more like how they were casted. Taller and lanky like Ron, and they had the trademark freckles along with the feiry red hair I loved.

Something noticable that I changed and outcasted them from the Weasley family was their eyes, I imagined everyone in the Weasley family to have blue eyes except Fred and George.

Ginny Weasley:

“ a long mane of red hair and when her jaw sets her resemblance to Fred and George is striking “

I somewhat ignored the description we’re given. I imagined her to look much more girly, a very soft jaw with large light blue eyes. Less freckles than Fred, George, or Ron that just set over her nose. I still saw her with long, firey, silky red hair, however.

When she got older I imagined her to be very petite, I had an image set in my mind of her Quidditch gear being too big on her and falling off at times.

Lavender Brown:

We never really got a description.

Lavender had more personality than physiology. Over the time I read about her I did get an imagine in my mind as I obsess over details. I imagined her with a heart shaped face that had a very stuck out chin, long wavy ginger hair, big and round blue eyes, a small button nose, big lips, and tan skin. I don’t know where I got it but here were some of my reasons as a child (which is when I first read the books)

Lavender talked a lot so a big mouth went with the phrase “Lavender Brown has a big mouth.”

She often begged or got upset so puppy like eyes made sense.

I liked long hair, and I liked gingers.

Seamus Finnigan:

I could not find his description, if he had one it was most likely small.

I kind envisioned him to look like the dumb blond type and I for some odd reason always seen him as ugly. I might of thought that because I didn’t like his character though.

Neville Longbottom:

“ round faced short and plump and blond “

Neville wasn’t a character that stuck out to me until I reread the books as an adult. When I was a child I imagined him as like Dudley but more handsome. He had short blond hair, was short but taller than Harry, and plump. I saw him with freckles but when I reread the books I never imagined him like that.

When he was older I imagined him very tall, almost like Ron, his blond hair was longer and the freckles were gone.

Adult Gryffindors/ Marauders:

James Potter:

He was my first crush of the book series. I imagined him like Harry but always saw him as cuter. He was very tall and muscular looking, much like Harry was when he grew up. I saw him with a strong jaw and ocean blue eyes and of course, jet black messy curly hair.

I think a good way to describe his hair would be like young Tom Riddle (another crush of young me).

I would like to mention his Animagi form, I imagined him as a very large deer with horns the size of trash cans (sort of like Hagrids’ hands).

Sirius Black:

His appearance obvious changes a lot from his young self to Prisoner Of Azkaban self. So let us start with young Sirius, I imagined him to have long hair for what a guy would typically be considered. Probably to his shoulder and very black but not jet black like James. His eyes were almond shaped and light grey with playfulness in them. I imagined him to be one inch shorter than James, standing at 5′9 while James is 6ft.

Also, I had this strange fascination with him dressing in romantic goth styled clothing, I don’t know why but he gave me that vibe when he was young.

“ He had a gaunt, sunken face, waxy skin, yellow teeth, and long, matted hair. “

When we first see him I imagined him to be as he was described, very skinny with sunken face that brought out his high cheekbones (find the positives, Bella) his skin being waxy and looking tired. His teeth yellow and crooked from them being ground against and his once long, silky hair being to his waist and matted. I had this vision of him having scratch marks and scars all over his body, almost as if he was self harming.

Remus Lupin:

My favorite Marauder! I related to him the most out of the Marauders due to his mature and nerdy nature but onward to the appearance. Young Remus, I imagined him to be tall and lanky like Ron, I think he was the tallest. He has a thin face and a soft jar making him appear less manly than James and Sirius but more boyish like Peter. His hair would be a chestnut brown, soft and shaggy, with curls in it ending a little below his jaw. I always made his eyes chestnut brown with a hazel like ring around them. Also, his scars would be on his cheek, across his eye and through his eyebrow, and then another one starting at his chin and ending at his neck.

“ The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey. “

I imagined him a lot like how he was described. Wearing shaggy robes that were a leather like brown and had patches sewn into it, all of them being different colors and patterns. He loss that boyish look and looked much older than he was, probably due to me visioning him to have wrinkled or aged skin and bags under his eyes. His chestnut hair did have grey hairs scattered throughout and he had grew scruff that also had grew in it.

Peter Pettigrew:

People tend to make Peter ugly, which as his character is described (physically and personality-wise) but I always thought of the Marauders all being handsome or even a little pretty. While I envisioned him being the least attractive I never saw him as ugly. I pictured him, when he was young, being the shortest maybe even shorter than Harry. His eyes would be smaller than average but a pretty light green. His nose was pointed but long and his lips were small and thin. His teeth were much like Hermiones’ being bucked.

Lily Evans:

I always thought Lily to be the second prettiest girl in the Harry Potter franchise (my first being a certain looney Ravenclaw). I imagined her to be very petite but taller than Peter and shorter than Sirius. Her hair was medium and thick, it was auburn but had streaks of firey ginger highlights. Her eyes were almond shaped and bright green like Harrys, her skin was milky and clear.

When she got older I imagined her to be taller but the three boys still taller than her. Her auburn hair would be longer and often kept in a ponytail due to baby hair pulling on it, her green eyes still seeming perfect and full of life despite the bad circumstances. She would grow out of her petite form and have a curvier more woman like body.

Molly Wobbles Weasley:

“ short, plump, and kindly-looking woman sabor-tooth tiger when mad “

Molly was one of my favourite characters because of her nature, she reminded me a lot of my mother. I always pictured her as a short, plump, woman who had curly short firey red hair. Her eyes being a light, kind looking shade of blue with periwinkle specs. I always liked to picture her smile because I felt like she would have plump lips and nice white teeth and a kind smile.

“ June and August of 1995 she lost a good deal of weight and appeared paler, though she seemed to get a healthier look back by the next year “

After her wieght loss I still pictured her as plump looking woman but I did change some of her features that stayed the same. I pictured her with her hair much shorter almost to the end of her jaw and still curling up, I gave her straight bangs that were side swept onto both sides and gave her an age spot from the sun.

Authur Weasley:

“ Arthur had bright red hair, though he was balding by the early 1990s. He wore glasses and had blue eyes, and also possessed the tall, thin build inherited by his sons “

For some reason I made every son of his taller than him, I wanted him to be the same height of Molly. I made his eyes around light blue shade, his hair the same fiery red but thin and balding. I imagined his glasses to be thick and round.

In the later books I gave him a hunch back but kept his other features the same.

Did you not see a character you wanted to? Please know that this is just the first ‘By The Book’ I am sorting by houses as it is easier, I’ll eventually get to Professors, and more secondary characters. I will likely be doing Slytherin or Ravenclaw next so keep an eye out for that.

#harry potter #by the book #book appearances #gryffindor

[claitynroberts]

Chapter 1: How We First Met

About: This series is a retelling of the Persephone & Hades myth set in the present day southern United States. In an attempt to make her last days more bearable, 23 year old Magnolia makes a deal with the lord of the Underworld himself. Both the young mortal and the ruler of the dead learn new things about themselves.

Author’s Note: I have used several different versions of the Persephone myth to come up with this particular story. It will be broken down into several parts/chapters. if you like it please let me know! This is my first piece of writing I have ever posted on here so please bear with me, and send my any constructive criticisms. :)

Warnings: Nothing just yet, will update as I go!

Word Count: 2,666

Liam

This isn’t something I normally do, but something about this particular offer caught my attention. To be honest, I haven’t even made a deal in over one hundred fifty years. Usually I let one of my many underlings take care of that department while I oversee the day-to-day business that keeps our world running. But this day, this day was far from usual.

“Hey, Boss. We’ve got someone on the line wanting to make a transaction.”

“Morgan,” I said exasperatedly without looking up from the paperwork on my desk, “have you suddenly forgotten how to do the very simple task that is your job?”

“No, sir… It’s just that this young woman is asking for you…personally.”

“You know I don’t make deals, that is why you are in charge of your department. You have legions of crossroads demons under your authority, surely someone is capable of handling this girl.”

“But, sir, with all due res-.”

“NO,” I bellowed, looking up from the paperwork. “I have not made a deal since the War of Northern Aggression. That is why poor Honest Abe is currently in Tartarus being barbecued like a rack of ribs after church on Sunday. Handle this. If I have to go up there I will put you on the rack myself and barbecue your hide until it falls off what is left of your scrawny a-,”

“Why? Why did I do this? Magnolia Jane, your parents are going to be so disappointed…”

I looked up to the screen hanging on the far side of my office. On the TV stood a tall, curvy girl of twenty-something. She was dressed in what looked to be her pajamas, as scant as they were, and shivering beneath her thin robe. Her raven hair was shining in the full moonlight and it hung loose down to the middle of her back. She was pacing around in her house slippers talking to herself and waving her hands animatedly. When she turned around, I nearly forgot how to breathe she was so beautiful. Her eyes were balanced precariously on the edge of being the deep blue-grey of storm clouds before it rains and the dull silver of a favorite ring; and were set perfectly symmetrically to her slender nose and full lips.

“Sir,” Morgan tried gently, “do you think you may reconsider?”

I shot Morgan a scowl. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” he said with a glint in his eye, “She’s waiting.”

Magnolia

I don’t normally do things like this. I mean, I was raised in a God-fearing household in good ole Dixie. Summoning demons is not in my wheelhouse of skills. It is twelve-o-one a.m. and I am standing in the intersection of two county roads about a mile and a half from my family’s farmhouse.

I know you’re probably wondering how a barely twenty-three-year-old woman from south Alabama could possibly know how to summon a demon. Well living in the south comes with its own superstitions, however when you’re this close to the swamp you can get a little dose of black magic if you know where to look. Long story short, I know a guy who knows a guy.

I have been standing in the middle of this crossroads for an hour now and have gone from disappointed, to angry with myself, to double checking the ritual and drawings, all the way back full circle to disappointed. After deciding I did everything right, I was beginning to accept the fact that my last hope failed me; I turned around dejected and prepared myself for the hike back to my house. Hopefully, sneaking back in wouldn’t wake my parents up.

“Going somewhere dear?” The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and goose bumps covered my body. I slowly turned around to see a tall, gaunt man standing in the middle of my dust drawing. “You know it really is quite rude to invite a guest over and leave before they arrive.”

“I-I-I’m sorry sir, but…wh-who are you,” I stammered, my mouth opening and closing repeatedly, which I’m sure made me look like a fish.

“Well my dear, you may call me Morgan,” he replied coolly and sketched a stiff bow, “pardon my tardiness but my previous business arrangement ran a little longer than expected.” His eyes glinted hardly in the full-moonlight and his greasy combed back hair looked like an oil slick.

“Oh…well… I would like to make a deal.” I attempted to straighten up to my full height and inject a smidge of confidence into my voice.

The stranger smirked and raised his bushy gray eyebrow. “Yes, I assumed so. What will it be, eh? You want to be rich?” He began pacing his circle, eyeing me the whole time and reading my face with his near repulsive stare. “No, no, that’s not it. Too unoriginal. You want true love?” He looked me over again. “No, that’s not it either. Hmmm…” he pondered, his long bony finger tapping against his pointed chin. “What could a young, beautiful woman like you want? Please don’t say immortality because that one is out of the question. I could possibly do youth but it runs at a pretty high price. Anyway, whatever it is please make it an original request. You don’t know how many of these I have to handle; the monotony can really get to you.”

“A friend.” I blurted out. I’m not sure what made me answer so quickly, but I know I wanted to get this done and over with A-S-A-P.

Taken aback he looked at me for a moment. “A friend? That’s it?”

“Yes,” I said trying not to look as terrified as I felt.

“Why on earth would you want to make a deal for a friend?” He seemed to snarl the last word with disdain and mockery. “I figured a beautiful woman like you would have more friends than one can count.” There was definitely a mocking tone in his voice that time.

“No…I don’t.”

“What would you give me in return? Magic isn’t free you know.”

“What is the normal going rate,” I asked curious, my voice only barley wavering this time.

“Well it usually works like this. People summon me, or one of my associates, then we ask them what they want. Riches, love, cures for illnesses, etcetera,” rambling he paced the circumference of the devil’s trap. “Then they get a time limit to enjoy whatever it is they asked for. When time is up, good ole Cerberus collects you and brings you downstairs.”

“Alright. Well…how about this. You get me a friend and when I die you can have my soul.”

“No can-do doll face.” He pantomimed a frown before continuing on. “You see I can only give you a maximum of fifteen years. Twenty if you’re lucky and the boss signs off on it.”

“I won’t need that long.” I looked down at the ground, pushing back the feelings of dread.

“Oh? And why is that?” He asked with the most enthusiasm I had heard him speak with all night.

“Listen, that’s personal business that you do not need to know.” I hardened my voice and schooled my emotions. “You came here because I summoned you to carry out a transaction. If it’s not doable you can either leave or put me in touch with whoever is in charge of you.”

He eyed me with those steel hard eyes again, his lip curling into a mixture of a sneer and a half-grin. “Well. The little mortal has a temper...and a backbone. You’ll understand this is very unusual; I am going to need to clear this with the boss before we seal the contract, of course.”

“Fine. Bring him back with you, and I will offer the same deal to him as well.”

“As you wish,” he bowed and disappeared into a cloud of blue-black smoke.

I began to pace the width of the road I was standing on. All of a sudden, I began to think this wasn’t the best idea. Talk about belated guilt. Why on earth would I summon a demon? There is a whole genre of books, movies, and TV shows based on why that is such a bad idea. “Why? Why did I do this? Magnolia Jane, your parents are going to be so disappointed. When they find out what you did, you’re going to be in more trouble than you’ve been in your entire life,” I began to lecture myself.

“So, what seems to be the issue here,” a gruff voice interrupted my self-deprecation.

I turned around startled. Next to the greasy underling Morgan, stood a tall, dark haired boy. He didn’t look much older than me, but when I looked into his eyes, dark and mysterious and lit by a curious fire within, he looked tired, like he had seen several lifetimes pass him by while he remained a beautiful, ageless shell. Dark stubble covered his chiseled jaw, and a well-cut mop of black iridescent hair flopped over his forehead. He had a mischievous, half-smile plastered on his face, and I tried to ignore the way it made me feel. “You may want to answer my question or shut your mouth before your slack jaw lets in a June bug,” he said with a hint of amusement and a small smile.

Clearing my throat, I finally spoke up. “Morgan here said he needed to clear the deal with you before we could finalize things.”

“Is that so? Morgan, please fill me in on the details.”

Morgan cleared his throat as if he were going to announce the guests at a regal ball. “This young woman summoned me here to request, of all things, a friend,” he said without trying to hide the obvious objection and mockery that came from the perpetual sneer on his face.

“And you needed me because,” the stranger asked Morgan, obviously annoyed to be pulled from his duties for this.

“Because I need a friend but don’t need a time limit,” I spoke up, before Morgan could mock me again, making sure to inject every ounce of bravery I could muster into my matter-of-fact tone.

“And why should we give you a time exception? What makes you so…special, for lack of a better word.” He wasn’t cruel with the question per se, but he wasn’t nice about it either.

“Look, Mister….” I stopped, waiting for him to introduce himself so I could be annoyed with an actual person later.

He chuckled and looked me straight in the eyes, “Liam. You may call me Liam.”

“Okay, Liam. Here’s the deal. I need a friend. I don’t have time though, so a maximum twenty-year limit will be wasted on me. I proposed to Morgan here that we make the deal and y’all are guaranteed my soul when I die, no need for Cerberus to hunt me down.”

“And you’re okay with all this? You say you don’t have time. Do you realize that as soon as you die, you’ll forfeit your right to an afterlife somewhere better? You’ll be trapped in Tartarus for eternity.”

“Well…I’m already in hell,” I managed to squeeze out without my voice cracking. I blinked my tears away, and glanced at my feet.

He looked at me curiously, but didn’t push the subject. “Okay, I’ll accept your contract. Do you have anyone in mind to be your friend?”

“Do you think if I had someone in my life I wanted to be my friend I would be standing here making a deal with you,” I shot at him with venom.

“Fine. Here are the terms of the contract. One, I will be your “friend” all the way up until the moment you pass on.” He mimicked air quotes with his fingers when he got to the word friend. “Two, when you die, myself, or one of my employees will collect your soul and transport it to Tartarus. Three, Cerberus will not be involved, and you will effectively forfeit any chance you had at a better afterlife. And lastly, at any time I have the power and authority to change the terms of you contract should the need arise.” All of a sudden, out of thin air, a contract appeared in his hand. “If you agree to these terms, I will need you to prick your finger and sign on the dotted line.”

“Change the contract?! You can’t do that!” I replied indignantly.

“I believe you’ll find I actually can.” He smiled.

“Why on Earth would you need to change the contract? Don’t you even think about double crossing me.” I spat the words vehemently, shaking my finger in his face.

“I have no intention of double crossing you, sweetheart,” he drawled. “It is only for emergency precautions.”

“I don’t believe you.” I growled, crossing my arms and tapping my foot.

“I swear, on my mother���s soul and my own position, that I will not tamper with the contract if it’s not in your best interest.”

I breathed out the breath I was holding in frustration. “Fine. Do you have a pin,” I forced out, attempting to hide all other emotion from my voice.

“Morgan. Knife.”

He drew a gold blade with a jewel-encrusted hilt from his coat sleeve. I took it from him and sliced the pad of my index finger. As the blood began to pool up, I almost talked myself out of the deal. This was crazy…wasn’t it? Did I really need to sell my soul to make a friend? Was I really this stupid? I glanced into the distance toward the faint outline of my house, then, as if under a spell, signed the contract.

“Well, that’s that then. I will see you tomorrow…” He stopped his sentence in order to read my signature. “Magnolia Jane Devereaux. Wow…that name is a mouthful.”

I rolled my eyes at him and choked out through gritted teeth, “I’ll see you around.” I turned and began to walk back to my house.

“Magnolia, sweetheart! You forgot something.” He called toward my back in a sing-song voice.

I turned around and stared Liam down.

“You have to kiss me.” He grinned a full-on, up-to-no-good smile that showed his perfect white teeth and made his eyes crinkle and come alight with mischief.

“What,” I hollered, skeptical and outraged as I marched back to the edge of the devil’s trap. Reaching the edge, my breath puffing from my heightened emotions, I glared into his deep golden irises.

“Well, along with a blood signature we also require a kiss to seal the contract. Isn’t that right, Morgan?” He glanced at his henchman, the smug grin never leaving his deadly beautiful face.

“Yes, sir,” the greasy rat said with a sly smile.

“I cannot believe you! Shouldn’t that be in the contract?!”

“It actually is. Article 3, section 5, line 4.”

He showed me the contract again, but, before I could discern the line he was referring to from the rest of the legal jargon, it snapped shut and disappeared. “FINE.” I hissed.

I’d planted a quick, chaste kiss on his lips from where I stood just outside the dust markings on the ground which held him in place; but before I could get away from him, he had wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. Part of me wanted to disappear into that kiss; to crawl inside the moment and revel in the feeling it sent through me. To memorize how he felt beneath my touch, hard and muscled and strong. Wanting him to touch me everywhere all at once. But after a few seconds the other half of my brain shut all those feelings up, forcing me out of my contented grogginess. I pushed him away while landing a solid slap across his face; then turned around and stomped my way back toward my house ignoring how my swollen lips felt after the most passionate kiss of my life.

#persephone #retelling #writing #amwriting #angst #some fluff #love #romance #demons #deals #underworld #will they wont they #hades and persephone #myths

[laryna6]

So I have now written about 8K of HP fic that is basically worldbuilding. I have no idea what to do re. turning this into a fic. I’m like ‘I don’t want to revise and watch a movie to figure out the character voice!’ So have a dump of the draft.

It’s not the Harry grows up and deals with how the treated the Dursleys ‘verse, but an alternate present where the whole Albus/Gellert thing where Gellert didn’t love him but still threw a duel that lost him a war and went to prison for the rest of his life instead of killing Albus with the Elder Wand resolved more sensibly because people were more realistic about the results of a sudden wizard reveal and were like ‘yeah there would need to be PR and our society would need to suck less so the muggles don’t think we suck what do you mean the purebloods want to criminalize homosexuality to get those pureblood wizards breeding and increase our numbers?’  and so you had the Wizarding Sixties instead of a World War-equivalent.

Of course Harry believed in magic. Everyone in England believed in magic.

Of course they did: Merlin was one of the founding heroes of the high kingdom that made England England, the protector of King Arthur. England was protected by magic to this day, like during the Blitz, how bombs kept falling on places that had already been bombed and people somehow survived without a scratch.

Everyone knew that people in hospitals got better around Halloween, to the point the NHS let cancer patients from the rest of the EU come around then, since there usually weren’t that many people that sick in England. It got them a lot of money.

The pagans might believe that it was the spirits of ancestors coming to check up on their descendants during the harvest festival instead of witches on broomsticks, but everyone agreed that either way, it was magic.

There was an old lady across the street, Ms. Figg, with tons of cats, which meant she might be a witch and so everyone was very respectful to her.

Aunt Petunia had lovely witch-themed jewelry that she wore to remember Harry’s mum. She told him and Dudley about his mum in a hushed voice by candlelight, how she was a witch and brewed potions that cured people and had even married a wizard like Merlin. How Harry might grow up to be a wizard and then the Evans would have two witches in the family, and since Dudley’s aunt was a witch he should be proud and needed to get married and give Petunia grandchildren because whether or not he was a wizard, there was magic in his blood and he might be the proud father of another witch.

At this point, they were all pretty sure that Harry was a wizard. Either that or his parents’ spirits were watching out for him, which would be just as good.

The trouble was that wizards were all wise and noble, so Aunt Petunia didn’t let him get away with anything and he had to study more than Dudley, and herbs and stars and stuff too, because there was a wizard school and his Mum had to learn a lot about wizard stuff in a hurry because she hadn’t had the right education growing up and his Aunt didn’t want him to struggle and get looked down on.

Dudley had extra lessons and stuff too, because that was only fair, but he got to learn martial arts and compete in junior league tournaments already. Being a wizard who didn’t know how to do magic yet didn’t get you trophies the way being a little knight did. Harry felt that was hardly fair.

Then the day came that Aunt Petunia had marked on the calendar, and there was a real live owl that let him feed it the fillet mignon Uncle Vernon had bought special. They gave his reply to the owl, and the next day there was another letter asking when they wanted to have a real life witch or wizard come over to tell them things. Aunt Petunia whispered to them that she could tell Harry what he needed to know and take him to get his school things because of his Mum, but did he mind letting Dudley meet a real live witch?

Of course not! This meant Harry got to see one sooner too.

The witch was a wizard, a handsome silver-haired man with a knightly bearing that made Harry and Dudley look at each other thinking, ‘He’s just like Merlin in the story books!’

He knew Aunt Petunia, which instantly made Harry’s aunt ten times cooler, and apologized to her about coming instead of a professor, but they had so many young witches and wizards this year that the professors were swamped visiting people who didn’t have relatives who knew about magic and Albus hadn’t wanted to keep Lily’s family waiting.

He also had the paperwork for Harry to attend wizard summer school so he got to explore the wizard school before actual classes started and learn about how a proper wizard acted. It sounded so much less boring than the class Petunia made them go to to learn the waltz and foxtrot and act like Proper Young Gentlemen with the word wizard attached! Also he got to go there through the fireplace!

And they got to go to the wizard shopping district.

Every town had herb shops and a place where people could buy old-fashioned brooms and cauldrons and books on old-fashioned English cooking, before the Empire when everything became tasteless roast beef that let the French make fun of them. Every ice cream parlor had flavors like Dragon’s Blood and Halloween Pumpkin and Witch’s Brew. Tons of kids had wands for playing magic, and Harry had tried to cast tons of spells he made up with his, hoping something would work.

This place had a wand shop with wands that had sparks come out! And a flying broom store with a broom that had a chain on it for kids to try if they hadn’t gotten to fly on a broom before.

They’d gone to the bank with real goblins first, though, so Uncle Vernon could exchange some money and Aunt Petunia could get the money for Harry’s things out of his trust vault. Then the man they were with apologized, saying he needed to get something and they could wait here or they could ride with him through the caverns and it was wicked.

Getting fitted for wizard robes might have been boring, but they were wizard robes and there was a real wizard in there who guessed that Harry must not have grown up a wizard because Draco knew everyone (and that was the coolest name every) and without Harry getting a word in edgewise said that he was attending the summer school to help set a good example and Harry should come to him if he needed help with proper behavior because it was his family duty to look after the common people. Like a wizard knight, even if he was a bit snooty!

“Ah, Arthur!”

“You asked me to meet you, my lord?”

“No need to be so formal, I’m not wearing that infernal judge’s wig at the moment. Vernon, this is Arthur Weasley. He’s the head of the Non-Magical Artifacts office, and he has a keen interest in non-magical technologies and manufacturing techniques that made him a good pick for the job of studying how to apply magic to them responsibly and keep things like teapots some witch enchanted to pour tea for her old Mum from ending up in the general population and giving someone a heart attack. Arthur, this is Vernon Dursley.”

“I remember you from the wedding!” Arthur said, smiling brightly. “You married Lily’s sister, yes?”

“Yes,” Uncle Vernon said, holding out a hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet you then.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t have eyes for anyone but Molly at my wedding either.”

“Vernon is the head of a drill manufacturing plant.”

“The making of tools used to make tools!” Arthur grinned, practically sparkling. “I’d love to hear about your work.” His face fell. “I wanted to stay in contact with you and Petunia afterwards, but…”

Vernon waved away the apology. “Better safe than sorry dealing with those continental wizards… no offense,” he told the old man quickly.

“No offense taken. Why do you think so many of us came to England?” he rolled his eyes.

“Should I assume that you’re here because of…”

Vernon nodded, but the old man held a finger to his lips and Arthur nodded quickly, looking a little embarrassed. “It is a relief, but I won’t say anything more.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Vernon said, clapping him on the back. “It’s not often someone says they want to hear me talk about my work. Far too many people take drills for granted.”

“No!” Arthur looked shocked.

When they went into the bookshop Vernon and Arthur remained outside with the old wizard to keep chatting about work. Harry caught Dudley rolling his eyes a moment before Petunia said, “Why don’t you two look around for something interesting while I get Harry’s school things. Just remember, Dudley, your book has to be something that it’s alright for you to show our friends.”

“Yes Mom,” he said quickly, before darting a glance at Harry and the two of them dashed for the fiction section, passing a bushy-haired girl their age staring in delight as books flew around her.

“And I’ll take this,” the old wizard said once the clerk was done ringing up Petunia’s purchases. “Here you go, boys,” he said, handling The Tales of Beedle the Bard to Dudley. “Now I believe there’s a knight in at least one of these stories.”

Dudley opened the book and started flipping through it as they walked out of the store, Harry leaning to look over his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you just recommend it to me?” his aunt asked.

“Albus wanted me to pick up something as interest on all those late birthday presents, and he loves that book.”

-

Most of the adult wizards at the school dressed in black robes, same as the uniform cloak. Except for Hagrid, who wore tough clothes to deal with the invisible animals or everything.

The headmaster wore a cloak all colors of the rainbow and there was a smiley-face and a peace sign button pinned to his hat, so the first time Harry saw him he knew he was a hippie.

There were a lot of them in England, what with Stonehenge and the magical tradition and everything. His parents didn’t quite approve of them, but they made Uncle Vernon’s headache tea and the one kind of yogurt Aunt Petunia liked. Harry quite liked the commune in the town commons because they encouraged them to play with the animals and he’d ridden a horse once (only once: they were big and lots of other kids wanted to have a go).

“I’d love to tell you ‘welcome to Hogwarts!’ But I can’t say that quite yet, you see. You’ll be here on the first day of school: right now we’re smuggling you in so you can get a sneak peak.” He held a finger to his mouth, as though he was telling them to keep a secret. “This first week, you’ll be assigned to groups with professors showing you around and filling you in on whatever they think is good for you to know before you come to class. After that, in the mornings you’ll have lessons and after lunch you’ll be able to pick who to go with. Ms. Price will escort a group to the library every day; Hagrid will be taking you to explore more of the grounds; Argus will be teaching you how to navigate the school; and Professors Sprout and Snape will be available to take you to the greenhouses and potions lab to work with you to make sure you know how to stay safe around magical plants and potions. I highly encourage everyone to go with each of those groups at least once. It’s very easy to get turned around when the moving stairs turn around, you see.”

Harry didn’t want to be late for class when it was magic class.

“Professor Lupin, Madam Hooch and the other professors will also be taking groups some days: they’ll let you know their schedules. We may also have some mysterious guests!”

-

“Alright everyone, time to put on your blindfolds,” said Hagrid. “They’re all on? Here we go.” He rang a gong, the sound reverberating in the huge stone chamber. A door grated open, and Harry heard something moving closer. “Now, this ‘ere is Slytherin’s basilisk, the protector of Hogwarts.”

“Even more tiny wizards than last year,” the snake hissed, sounding pleased. “My hatchlings must be having large, healthy clutches.”

“Who wants to feed her?” Hagrid asked, sounding excited.

Harry thrust his hand up in the air before realizing that Hagrid couldn’t see him. “Me, sir!”

“Ah, Harry!” Hagrid said cheerfully. “Reminded me of your dad, you did. Come over towards me, and I’ll hand you a hunk of venison.” Harry did, and Hagrid turned him around afterwards and pushed at his back. “Walk a bit closer to her, and hold it up in the air. This’ll give her a chance to smell you too, so she knows you’re one o’ hers.”

Harry did, and stopped when he felt cool air on his face.

“A Potter,” the snake said thoughtfully.

“Yes, my name’s Harry Potter,” he told her.

“You can speak a civilized tongue, child?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t know what you mean.”

She hissed softly, thoughtfully. “I smell a bit of Salazar’s magic on you, but not his blood. Curious.” The venison was lifted from his hands, and he heard her gulping it down. “Come visit me again, hatchling.”

“You can understand her when she talks?” Hagrid asked.

“Yes? She wants me to visit her again. I understood a python at the zoo once too. Is that weird?” Harry asked him, as some of the kids behind him began to whisper.

“It’s a rare gift, that is. One of the founders of Hogwarts had it, it’s how he was able to tell a basilisk to protect the school. Raised her himself, ol’ Salazar did. Didn’t care a bit about how dangerous she was,” Hagrid said proudly. “But you’ll hear more about the founders in History. Right, now back up Harry, time for someone else to get the chance to introduce themselves.”

-

Harry wasn’t the first, second or even the third student called up by the Deputy Headmistress during lunch. According to Ron, she was telling everyone about Career options they might not have thought of, so they had some idea of the variety of things and how to figure out what they might want to study a few years later when they could choose electives.

So he followed her out of the great hall, and down the staircase that appeared after she said, “Sweet Tarts” to a stone gargoyle.

“Harry!” the handsome old wizard said cheerfully, waving by a chair next to the Headmaster’s desk, where Albus sat twinkling at them.

“Now,” Albus said once the door shut behind Minerva, “You’ve probably heard a bit about what happened when you were a baby.” He gave Harry a regretful look. “Gellert thought it might be best for us to sit down and have a talk with you about it, so you weren’t relying on hearsay.”

“Hermione read me the stuff in the history books, although Draco said a lot of that’s rubbish,” but even though Harry had heard about it from them, he still moved forward trying to hide how eager was to sit at the chair in front of the Headmaster. He wanted to hear more about his parents.

“Well…” Albus started.

“Yes,” Gellert interrupted. “The textbook-makers want to sell to the American wizards, who don’t allow enchanted printing presses because they’re no-maj technology, but also refuse to teach children history that urges contact with non-wizards. The real historians are gathering interviews and documents but don’t want to write about the war until enough time has passed to be able to analyze its effect on society, and the people who have written firsthand accounts don’t want to publish them until they can give those who fought beside them credit by name without inviting their assassination. So even a witch as bright as Hermione who doesn’t have family who fought in the war she can ask as Draco does is stuck with English Wizarding History books that give it a brief half-chapter summary at best.”

“That rather sums it up,” Minerva agreed, looking disapproving at the state of things for a moment. “Gentlemen, if I may?”

“Of course, Minerva.” Albus nodded his head. “It’s yours to dispose of.”

“Mr. Potter, stand up.”

Harry Potter stood up straight quickly. “Yes, Professor.”

She took out a piece of fabric and swirled it around his shoulders. “Wicked,” Harry breathed when he realized he could see through it.

“Mr. Potter, what I have just given you is an invisibility cloak. The invisibility cloak. It was given to me by your father so that in the event of his death it would find its way to me and could be used to rescue you, if it came to that. Now it is yours. It has been passed down in your family from the time when the Potters were the Peverells.”

“The Peverells?” Harry asked, pulling the cloak off his head so that she could see him looking at her.

“Like in the book I brought you,” Gellert agreed. “It was a project of mine and Albus’ when we first met, to track down the Deathly Hallows.” He held up his wand, and the headmaster held up his hand. On the same finger as Aunt Petunia’s engagement ring was a ring with a large black stone. “Unfortunately, we made enough noise while looking for them that others began to take their existence more seriously.”

“The magic within them is unique and very tied to karma,” Albus went on. “Killing and injuring others builds up negative karma, until fate is so tilted against the bearer of the Elder Wand that no matter how hard he tried to hold on to it, it will be taken from him and he will die by the sword he wielded. Commanding the souls of the dead to appear without thinking of their welfare is disrespectful at best, often cruel. The third brother could have used the cloak for foul purposes, but instead he only used it to prolong his life, and in the end sacrificed it and his life for the sake of his child.”

“In other words, boy, use that cloak to harm someone instead of protect them and,” Gellert mimed slitting his throat. “But, your father gave it to Minerva hoping that would save your life, and it may very well have. I myself would probably be dead by now if this thing and Albus hadn’t force me to consider my actions very carefully.”

“What do you mean about my father?” Harry asked.

“The cloak is the least dark of the three Hallows by far, and that may be because generations of Potters have given up its power for the sake of their children,” Minerva told him. “It was too reckless to give something like this to an infant, when you would die if no one could find you to feed you or take care of you, so your mother helped him create a ritual to give the cloak to me as your proxy, until you were old enough to begin to exert some control over your magic.”

“How would that save my life?”

Minerva looked at the two men. “I’m afraid that groundless theorizing isn’t my field.”

Albus smiled. “Minerva’s wonderfully practical,” he agreed. “Gellert and I each have a theory: it could be either, but most likely both factors were at work.”

“The Dark Lord of Running Away from Death tried to cast a magic that works by seeking the soul and binding it to death on the child of a family whose magic has been entwined for generations with a magical artifact that conceals them from death itself. When he cast Avada Kedavra on you, the spell might have worked perfectly well, but death simply wasn’t able to take you. That’s an oversimplification,” Gellert said, flicking his fingers. “I can lead you through the logic once you’ve taken some arithmancy and Ancient Runes. The correspondences give you a very solid advantage over his magic.”

“Another possibility is that by giving up the cloak, and by laying down her life to protect you, both of your parents gave up their lives so that you could live and be safe, Harry,” Albus told him gently. “Love is one of few powers stronger than death, and the mystical correspondence to the passing of the cloak could have channeled that power in a way that let them save you.”

“You’re saying it like… why would he kill them to get to me?” He was just a baby, when his mother was a brilliant witch and his father a brave wizard.

“There was a prophecy that could have applied to any number of children, but only two of them were born to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. He likely chose you as his nemesis because you were a half-blood: your mother was born among non-wizards.”

“Lord Coward is also a halfblood,” Gellert said, rolling his eyes. “And that muggle who took over Germany had neither blond hair nor blue eyes. It says something about how brain-dead racial supremacists are, that they fail to realize they’re proposing pogroms that would put their own heads on the chopping block.”

Albus paused. “I’m not sure if I should let that insult slide because you’re insulting him, or scold you for using a slur in a way that implies that everyone who isn’t a wizard is like him.”

Gellert winced. “Sorry, dear.”

“We’ve been having this conversation for decades. You are a role model, you know. Don’t encourage people to act the ways you find so idiotic and then complain about how those attitudes would have been stamped out already if other wizards weren’t such fools.”

“Yes, that is the problem with being geniuses like us. The mind is the ultimate weapon, and the sharper it is the more damage you do if you cut yourself,” Gellert said, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully.

“In any case, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said, a slight crease between her eyebrows indicating her annoyance. “You survived the Killing Curse that has been certain death since the time of the Ancient Greeks, and the backlash somehow took down a wizard with a level of power only seen a handful of times in a century; the charisma to convince some deluded old fools that he could get their heirs to come back into line; the intelligence to puzzle out the darkest of magics and the complete lack of not just principle but sense required to split his soul into fragments.”

“Voldemort is not dead, I’m afraid,” Albus said, and it was the first time Harry had heard anyone just come out and say his name. “He fled to the continent, to one of the many conservative wizards there. Almost three quarters of a century ago now, Gellert and I led progressive movements in Britain and Eastern Europe. The young wizards and witches who joined us in working towards ending the abuse of people who couldn’t defend themselves against magic and eventually having open and honest relations with our neighbors have grandchildren now, but wizarding folk can live a very long time.”

“And some children saw advantage in currying the favor of their parents by being outspoken about their desire to pick on people not their own size, or wanted to keep buying into an ideology that told them that they were born superior, even though that meant they never had truly had the chance to become great on their own merit, if it was simply what was expected of them.”

“England has advanced so far that I’ve had the pleasure of my students pointing out that sometimes I myself fail to do a good enough job of defying the way I was brought up,” Albus said, sparkling. “But we managed to escape some of the Continent’s social problems thanks to Helga Hufflepuff. Classism in Wizarding Britain is far less entrenched, partially because the pureblood mania caused even the most ‘common’ families to be desirable marriage partners. Treating wizards as worth less than other wizards makes it harder to get people to stop treating non-wizards as worth less than wizards. Those poor people who grow up thinking they’re near the bottom of the social ladder can feel like they’re losing power if the rung below them is no longer below them, instead of seeing it as destroying the system that keeps them down as well.”

“Wonderful woman, Helga Hufflepuff,” Gellert said, smirking. “Clever, evil, effective woman. If she was alive I might leave you for her, Albus.”

The headmaster propped his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful but with one side of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Yes, that would be understandable,” he agreed.

“Gentlemen, the boy is eleven.” Minerva folded her arms.

“No flirting in front of the children, Minerva?” Albus raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.

“When have I ever said that?” She demanded. “Keep flirting in front of the children, how are they supposed to learn how to make a marriage work for a century or more without examples? Stop turning this into another discussion about your social movement, Gellert, and let Albus simplify it for Harry.”

“Lord Voldemort still exists, although he is no longer alive and much reduced in power. Your mother’s family’s love for you kept you safe and hidden when you were younger, Harry, but you are now at the age where your magic is shifting over from devoting all its power to protecting you to giving you conscious command over it and no longer acting on its own. That will make you increasingly vulnerable until you learn how to protect yourself. Because it was built to shepard children through those years, Hogwarts is the safest place in all of Britain, and Gellert will also be staying here as much as possible and commuting to handle both his duties and some of mine that aren’t related to Hogwarts so you have one more protector.”

“Oh?” Gellert asked, when Harry frowned, puzzled.

“Hagrid said that too, that Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain. Wouldn’t it be the bank?” Not that Harry wanted to be locked up in a bank vault.

Gellert and Professor McGonagall chuckled. “You’re a sharp little one, wondering what’s so safe about this place and its death forest, greenhouses and pens full of things that will kill you and Rowena Ravenclaw’s attack staircases.” Gellert smirked.

“Accidental magic is also known as subconscious magic, while spellcasting is conscious magic,” Professor McGonagall explained. “Having magical threats nearby keeps subconscious magic from slacking off, so it will keep protecting you as long as possible. In addition to that, when a young witch first encounters a danger, it’s normal for her to freeze or panic. When she encounters the same danger a second time, however, she’ll know it’s possible for her to handle the matter, so she won’t have to wrestle her emotions into submission before she can deal with the problem. Experiencing dangers for the first time while still protected by strong subconscious magic allows children to learn to handle them with confidence. Your parents were Gryffindors, Mr. Potter. By the time they graduated, they had the composure of veterans, able to fight without a second’s warning or hesitation even in the face of a Dark Lord.”

“Right now you could jump off a cliff and while your subconscious might allow you to get banged up a bit to teach you not to do that again, you would not suffer any permanent damage,” Gellert said, shrugging. “The Coward Lord used Avada Kedavra on you because it takes magic that strong to kill a baby wizard.”

“Young wizards are very like dragons,” Albus agreed. “Dragons are very resistant to spells even though they can’t cast any of their own, because all their magic goes into keeping them safe from their own magical fire and allowing them to fly. It takes so much magic to overcome that resistance that even the strongest spells are weak enough they’re nothing but nuisances by the time they penetrate a dragon’s skin. It takes very powerful magic to permanently harm a wizarding child even as old as thirteen. During the school year, Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain because in addition to the wards and the Founder’s other precautions, in addition to the professors, myself and Gellert, there are also five hundred wizarding children thirteen and younger under this roof, their powers constantly working to make this place safe for them.”

“That protection goes away during the age of fourteen for most purposes, but it’s not until fifteen that a witch can hurt herself with her own magic, or her magic can be turned against her.”

“There is a condition where a young wizard’s magic can turn against them,” Gellert added. “It will lash out at things around them, but it can’t actually hurt them until they turn ten or eleven and the first loose fragments of their magic are no longer incapable of harming them. Not that this applies to anyone in Britain,” he added when Minerva glared at him for going off-topic.

“As soon as the school year starts, you’ll be taking Defense with Professor Lupin. Who, it just so happens, knew your father.” Albus smiled. “By the time you reach fourteen, even outside Hogwarts and your step-parents’ home, you should be able to protect yourself until an adult can reach you. According to the prophecy, just by existing you severely weaken Voldemort, so hopefully the aurors will be able to deal with him well before you graduate.”

“What if I don’t want someone else to deal with him?” Harry wanted to know.

Gellert and Minerva looked at each other. “Gryffindor,” Gellert said, smirking. Minerva just loosened her reserve enough to allow a flicker of a smirk.

“I mean, there is a prophecy, right?” Harry added sheepishly. “If I’m supposed to defeat him, then wouldn’t people just get killed if they try to fight him instead of me?”

“Look where paying too much attention to prophecies got Lord Vol de Morte,” Gellert pointed out. “Not that I know where he is right now, or I’d be there instead of here…”

“I promise that I’ll discuss the prophecy with you after your fifth year,” the headmaster told him. “If matters haven’t been resolved by that point, that’s when we will no longer be able to guarantee your protection, and if you take divination you’ll be able to interpret the prophecy yourself. Gellert is right that reacting without thinking right after hearing a prophecy tends to lead to the worst interpretation coming true. Try to avert a prophecy and you’re opposed by very powerful magic. If you accept fate and work to fulfill the prophecy in the way that best suits you, then it’s possible to harness that magic.”

“He will not get away with what he did to your parents, Harry,” Minerva said coldly. “We can promise you that, even if I’m afraid that if you want him to die by your hand, you’ll have to get in line.”

-

On Wednesday of the next week, the children were divided into two. Harry was in the same group as Hermione, but Ron and Neville were in the other group.

They were led to a classroom with “History of Magic” on one blackboard and “Muggle Studies” on the other.

After they sat, Gellert followed them in.

“Hello, children,” he told them. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we divided you into the children raised only in the wizarding world, and those of you have either split your lives between the two worlds, were raised entirely unaware of magic or fall somewhere between the two. My name is Professor Emeritus Gellert Grindelwald.” He paused to write it, half on each blackboard, “And because I’m the headmaster’s husband I have this opportunity to expose you to what many conservative wizards consider propaganda.” He smirked at them as though he was playing a trick on people who deserved it and he was giving them a chance to be in on it.

“As muggle technology increases, wizards throughout the world have been separating themselves and their lives more and more from those without magic. This can be seen in how history at Hogwarts was divided into History of Magic, a required course, and Muggle Studies, an elective.” He underlined that title. “The history of 99.9 percent of the human race and it was an elective, despite the fact that wizarding history makes very little sense and is very boring outside of the broader picture of what was happening worldwide. When historians began to look at the two together, it was amazing how many of the great questions of Wizarding history suddenly had obvious answers.

“Separation breeds fear. It breeds ignorance, and we fear what we do not understand. When we are afraid, it becomes natural either hide ourselves away, or try to convince ourselves that the other is weak and easily subdued… which is then ‘proven’ in ways that anger the other party. It is not possible for wizards to hide forever. This last century has seen unprecedented innovation in all aspects of magic, thanks to geniuses like myself and Albus and the hard work of people like Dr. Newt Scamander and Hogwarts’ own Professor Sprout. It’ll be confirming my hard-earned reputation for arrogance when I say that people like these,” he pointed at the names he’d written down, “are one in a thousand.” He looked across the room. “How many ‘one in a thousand’ innovators are there in six billion people? The rate of progress among muggles has always outstripped the development of the magical world by far. They simply have more people than we do, and now that they’re educating more women and not leaving potential geniuses untaught because they were born into the wrong race and class, they’re going to be able to take more and more advantage of the wealth of talent they possess.

“Eventually,” he said, beginning to pace across the room, “Muggle technology will progress to a point where they will be able to find us and do much of what we wizards can do. Many wizards see this as the end of our world. It is not. It is the only way our world can survive. If a muggle can levitate a book with a device,” the teacher said, lifting Hermione’s copy of Hogwarts, A History with a wave of his hand, “then why should they care that some people are born able to do it? Rather, they will care, but not because they find witches and wizards terrifying. Because magic is fascinating, and the desire to discover is the best part of human nature. At that point, we will have access to the muggle talent pool, and be able to explore frontiers of magic yet undreamed of. I truly hope I live to see that day.”

He looked out at them. “Previous generations in this very country hated and feared magic. Is there anyone in this room who didn’t wish at some point in their life that they could grow up to be a wizard or witch?”

No hands were raised.

“You children are a vitally important part of the future of magic. Someday, you and your families will be the bridge that connects the two worlds. That helps give non-magic hospitals regular access to magical medicine and healers access to muggle science and research techniques to improve treatments. But I’d rather tell you now so that it doesn’t come as a surprise later: some adults are not very bright.”

Muffled laughter from somewhere in the room.

“A great many wizards are terrified of muggles finding out we exist, despite the fact that muggles do know we exist. The Ministry of Magic is in contact with the British Government, and is… in an odd legal situation, something like a Commonwealth nation, because your wizarding nation’s charter was drawn up by Arthur and Merlin and a great many later parts of the common law and Magna Carta don’t apply to you. To the kind of people who are terrified of muggles and yet at the same time convinced that they can play tricks on Muggles without consequence, the very existence of people like you is a danger to the wizarding world. Even Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders, thought Hogwarts taking on muggle-born students was hazardous – although please, don’t let that prejudice you against Slytherin House. You’ll be covering this early in History, but Slytherin felt that way at the time for historical reasons that don’t apply to the modern world.

“Wizarding Britain has been on the forefront of setting up the groundwork for open contact between our two worlds for decades. Around the time you were born, we fought a war to save our future. Your future.

“You’ll hear the time between the two World Wars referred to as the Wizarding Sixties. The first World War made a lot of wizards start to realize that muggles could be a threat to us, and the resulting reactionary nonsense was ‘a total drag.’ We young people had our liberties vastly restricted, and it was hardest on people who didn’t want to marry and start producing children at absurdly young ages – before that time traditional wizards did not have children before the age of forty, when they were certain their powers were firmly under control. The fad of couples having children in their twenties left a great many pureblood women unable to ever have a second child.

“All this interest in bloodlines led to the discovery of the Gaunt family, descendents of Salazar Slytherin, who was claimed by the pureblood supremacists as an ideological forebear despite the number of half-bloods and muggleborns who have been sorted into Slythering over the centuries.” He rolled his eyes. “Because of their rampant inbreeding, the father and son were practically squibs, and the daughter had been kept from attending Hogwarts – her father lied and told her that she was a squib to keep her from questioning this – and… Albus will make me sleep on the couch if I go into too much detail on Merope’s childhood. Being swept off her feet, taken to London, given decent clothing and promised remedial instruction in magic should have been the happiest day of her life… except that she had fallen in love with a local muggle, Tom Riddle, who already had a girlfriend and she did not wish to marry.

“Her protector seemed to accept this, and she was allowed to mingle with Wizarding Society until hopefully she got over her broken heart and found someone… And then it seemed as though she did.

“None of us realized that she was being given love potion.

“When the child was almost born, the father became so convinced that his bride had to love him, in all his pureblood glory, that he finally gave in to the family healer’s frantic begging and took her off the love potion. She seemed willing to stay, and it seemed as though he would have his perfect heir…

“But poor Merope grew up in an abusive home. She knew how to hide her true feelings from her captor, and she now knew that there was a world outside the door and friends who would help her. She’d been taught a number of useful charms by fellow witches in case her father and brother ever were let ouf of Azkaban and came after her. She was able to escape.

“Unfortunately, the stress of her escape and exhaustion of her crippled magic triggered premature labor, and in her pain and exhaustion she somehow ended up taken to a Muggle orphanage to give birth, where she perished, but not before naming the child after the man she’d wanted for his father.

“Tom Riddle was found eleven years later, when his Hogwarts letter came. Growing up a poor orphan, he responded to the overtures of his father and returned to the bosom of that family.

“Then after graduating Hogwarts he killed them all. Which, understandable.” Grindlewald shrugged. “However, it wasn’t out of a son’s love for his mother. His conception under love potion left him incapable of love. This is not the same thing as someone who will never fall in love – I myself am aromantic and that hasn’t kept me from having a close relationship with someone I hold very dear. My heart has never fluttered. I have never dreamed of kissing anyone in the moonlight. But I could be emperor of the world, and I would throw the crown in a midden to keep my husband safe. Love is one of the fundamental forces of magic. I don’t really have the sense for it, that’s more my husband’s field – blasted hippie,” he said affectionately, “But Albus sees the good in everyone and when he went to speak with the boy to tell him he was a Hogwarts student his skin was crawling the entire time. At the time, I thought it was hilarious – I wrote him back asking if this meant that he understood now that he shouldn’t be so sympathetic to everyone and would stop telling me to have mercy on people who didn’t deserve it – but I was in Europe and didn’t meet the boy until he was a man and we were on opposite sides of a battlefield.

“Lord Voldemort, ‘the flight from death,’ and his supporters will tell you that he fights to restore ‘pureblooded’ wizardkind to their ‘rightful place of supremacy.’ He lies,” Grindelwand stated firmly, sweeping his gaze across the room.

“If he fights a muggle-born like you and a pureblood like me, he’ll be trying to kill me, not you. Pureblood witches and wizards among his forces die or go mad in ways that utterly disgraces them and the family name. He’s wiped out more pureblood families than the muggles ever have. If it weren’t for wizards and witches like you, Wizarding Britain would have a tenth the numbers it did when Albus was born, if that. The current lords Black and Malfoy call muggle-born women Mother and give them the same honor as their blood mothers because dwindling numbers made their parents attempt pregnancy at so young an age that they became incapable of carrying children to term, and if they hadn’t been able to find skilled witches willing to be surrogate mothers and adopted them into the family so their magics became compatible with the childrens’ magics – which was only possible because those witches were not tied to any family magics of their own – the titles would have gone to collateral branches so distant they don’t even bear the names Black or Malfoy.

“If it weren’t for children like you, the wizards of Britain would be near extinction.” Once again he swept the room, meeting all of their eyes. “Remember this. Do not allow anyone to look down on you, or tell you that you do not belong here. You do not need us. You have places in the muggle world. We need you. Magic itself needs you.”

“Wizarding Britain thrives despite Voldemort while Africa, the birthplace of humanity and human magic, stagnates, Wizarding America curls up in a terrified ball and Europe treads water because of you. Each and every one of you is a savior of the Wizarding World.”

Savior of the Wizarding World. Harry had heard himself called that, but somehow it made him sit a little straighter seeing the man meet everyone else’s eyes. Like Harry sat among a whole hall full of heroes.

Like he was never alone and never ever could be.

--

“Dumbledore and Grindelwald addressed Slytherin’s concern about muggle-born instead of ignoring it like Griffindor did,” Draco was saying when they got back to the common room, from where he sat perched on one of the tables like a king on a throne. “These days, muggles treat wizards with the proper respect and you don’t have to call the obliviators over every little thing. My sisters can invite girls from the muggle town as well as the estate for their tea parties and I don’t have to play with them.”

“Yeah, shut it,” a black boy who also looked like an Italian said lazily. “You know how many husbands my mother has had, and I’m an only child. They keep exhausting themselves trying to have proper pureblood children like they’ll do as they’re told when the first batch of kids didn’t,” he rolled his eyes, “when they could just find a muggleborn surrogate instead of divorcing their wives and losing half the family estate in the process.”

Draco nodded, rolling his eyes. “Blaise is right. Mother said Madam Zabini is doing a public service, fleecing those continentals. Not that she’s cheating anyone,” he said quickly when Blaise raised an eyebrow. “It’s not your mother’s fault they’re fools and their wives should get to enjoy being out in society instead of shackled to someone who thinks they’re replaceable like that. My grandfathers didn’t divorce their wives: they had standards. And what would it matter if they actually did marry a muggle-born? The Malfoy family line goes back centuries. I could marry a hundred muggles, and it wouldn’t make my children any less noble. Keep implying that it’s possible to make Malfoy blood impure, and I’ll be telling my father.”

-

“And along this hall is the White Lady’s room,” Argus told them. “Walk up and down the corridor three times thinking that you want to see her – I’ll only demonstrate for you once!” He did so, and then a door appeared.

He used the bumblebee doorknocker and a voice called, “Come in!”

Argus opened the door and waved the children in.

Harry blinked, and blinked again. “Feels weird,” Ron said, rubbing his upper arms.

“I’m afraid that’s on my account,” said a white-haired woman sitting by the fire, on a couch next to a ghost. She smiled at them apologetically. “My magic’s a little messed up, so the room creates magical flows that untangle it for me.” She smiled at them, exactly like a grandmother. “Why don’t you children come and sit down? I always love to have visitors.”

Draco stood in front of her and bowed. “Ariana Dumbledore? My name’s Draco Malfoy.”

“Look at you!” She looked delighted, and Harry could see the resemblance to Albus in the sparkles. “You’re the spitting image of your father. And… hmm.” She laughed brightly. “You’re certainly a Black, but for some reason you remind me of Nymphadora instead of Narcissa…”

Draco brightened.

“They’re going to keep mistaking you for a half-veela when you grow up, aren’t they you handsome young man?”

“I’m too old to be a metamorphmagus,” he said, but “Do you think…”

“I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to became an animagus, if the shape-shifting power is that close to the surface. Isn’t Nymphadora a delight?”

“I know! My Mother thought the power had gone out of the family, and then it shows up in a half-blood? Father thinks that the Blacks are like the Malfoys, with so many alliance marriages that we have a half-dozen family magics and some of them suppress each other.” Then he blushed. “Sorry, Lady Ariana.”

“No, no! It’s wonderful to hear a young man being so enthusiastic about my little theories on the preservation and health of inborn magics! I was so embarrassed when that reprobate Gellert went and had my thesis published without even telling me, but it’s so worth it to see a talent like Nymphadora’s come back into the world.”

“Harry’s a parseltongue!”

Ariana held her hand over her mouth and gasped with delight. “No!” Draco simply had to be teasing her.

“Harry, come over here! Oh, forgive me Lady Ariana. These are Crabbe and Goyle, my liegemen, Hermione – she’s a genius – and the sixth Weasley.” AKA ‘you poor bastard, I have three younger sisters, I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have six of them, and most of them older. At least you can get away from younger ones.’

The way those two talked about their huge families made more sense to Harry now after hearing about Voldemort and what happened to the purebloods. Half ‘it’s such a pain and imposition’ and half bragging about how their families were huge and would totally kick your ass. Although maybe Harry kind of got that, when he’d never worried about bullies because Dudley could kick everyone’s ass.

-

-“Lemon drop?” After Harry nodded and took one, Albus chuckled. “Yes, Gellert has that effect on people. When we were teenagers he was thinking of leading an army. I thought he was so impressive at that age… then he moved into my house so we could work on research together and I could still look after Ariana and he would never pick his clothes up off the floor or do the dishes.” He smiled nostalgically. “I finally understood why Aberforth – my brother – wanted to strangle him so much. I got over my starry-eyed infatuation and realized that Gellert – while I love him dearly – is a bit of a jerk. I found myself wondering ‘do I treat people like that?’ and honestly I did, I was overly impressed with my intelligence when I was younger, and was so horrified I started making an effort to be a better person. There’s a movie one of my students gave me with a giant magical rabbit that contains the line ‘I have tried being bright, and I have tried being pleasant.’ I do find that being kind is a genius all its own.”

-

But because England had a lot of power, PR changes there could get distributed throughout the world… Around three-quarters of a century later, England’s Ministry has been only technically not violating the International Statute of Secrecy for so long that the other countries think that England is the place it’s least likely for a breach to occur, because the native people think magic is something that happens all the time, so no reason to put it in the papers, and the other muggle countries think England just has a thing for magic and folklore and keeps making up urban legends.

Gellert was able to sell his ideas to a lot of the younger generation in Germany but was resisted by the traditionalists. He proposed using England as a test case, so a lot of continental wizards decamped to England until the older ones were out of the way and got a taste of doing the healings and being considered heroes by a local mythos more focused on Merlin than Baba Yaga.

He was at Durmstang for a bit, but while he considers children less stubborn and immature than adults (less set in their ways, easier to nudge to be logical/think his way), he got lonely for intelligent conversation.

He’s active in political and social circles and has some of Albus’ canon political posts, or serves as Albus’ deputy in posts where the actual title has to go to a British wizard. He’s allowed to sub for Albus even where that’s irregular because of course being Hogwarts Headmaster takes priority. While he’s trying to stick close to Hogwarts, the European social movement is in the hands of Hufflepuffs and adopted Hufflepuffs. Helga is an icon among European lower-class wizards and reformists. So I supposed Gellert does have an army in the AU, it’s just Hufflepuffs. Which is more terrifying.

It was their experiences with the Elder Wand that made them go ‘yeah how about no’ to completing the set, because the magic is very clearly malicious and Gellert thinks that traps should be sprung by someone who is not him but on the other hand he doesn’t want someone not him or Albus getting the power if they survive, while Albus has the job of vetoing things involving innocent people.

#all of the fanfic #harry cannoneer

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

so i was having a conversation with someone who is leeching off my netflix using my netflix to watch Luke Cage right now... and it was about how they whitewashed Iron Fist (and also Dr Strange)

But they said, “You can’t have it both ways though? You can’t get upset if they make a character white, when they’re always making a random character black or something when in the books they were white.”

And... you get a flashback to everytime you’ve ever had to have the exact same ‘diversity and representation are important’ conversation, and you realise you’ve played this game with them before... and clearly it hasn’t changed their mind. But you’re gonna say it anyway...

“Because white people are in everything, but like, specific white people... and a lot of times when they switch out a character for a white person, it’s wiping out a very specific story. Like in Iron Fist... he was meant to be asian, the people around him too... the whole comic series is pretty well-foundered in that. Dr Strange isn’t bendybonk cucumberpatch, nor was the ancient monk dude he needed to speak to... Tilda Swinton (you know, the freaky praying mantis bitch from Narnia, the White Queen?) in a bald cap???”

And then it goes around again, “Yeah but what about the reverse?”

“Because everyone in fucking stories are white and straight and ridiculously pretty... or tortured about how they’re white and ugly and tortured, or white and not straight but pretty and tortured... and it’s boring, mate...”

-

And clearly the point didn’t land... but it’s like, why is that the first thing people go to when they discover a character is whitewashed? 

“Yeah but other characters, who were white, were randomly made not”  [Or some just flat out say a race, or a sexuality, or a gender orientation, etc.]

And it’s like... we can’t keep seeing the same 12 white actors in everything... pretending to have backstories thy clearly aren’t connected to bc it should have gone to a different actor...

Katniss Everdeen. Ghost in the Shell. Dr Strange. Luke Cage. fucking ALOHA. dozens of others, let’s be real... and most of these they discouraged people of the actual ethnicities involved to apply...

But remember how pissed people were when Percy Jackson came out and Grover (a satyr, dude who was half goat and a badass) ended up black? and fans were losing it online? Remember when they went back over the shitty mortal instrument books and changed just about everything so the characters were dynamic, some poc, some not-straight, etc. so they were more fun?

Like, where was the outcry when they did freaking “La La Land”, a story that literally took an entire narrative about the birth of jazz, from African-Americans, and handed it to a white dude who couldn’t sing. And his female white co-star who also couldn’t sing. Like... isn’t that embarrassing? A red flag? When the two leads can’t sing or dance well enough that they have to have someone ELSE sing for them? Why didn’t they just get the people who sang for them? Like, HAIRSPRAY had a narrative that focused on a fat white chick, sure, but there was a lot of screen time and accreditation given to the poc characters, and she never claimed to have made their dances up, and was always clear who let her use them... that was actually a pretty good musical/movie.

And Stonewall? You still can’t get over that. The activisim was led by trans WOC, and they removed them, and made some skinny white dude the main? They marketed this revolutionary movement as “A young man’s coming-of-age story”... and it was like, the skinny white dude pretending to be gay on camera? Wow. Buddy, let me tell you how easy it is to find a gay to cast... *thumps the wall and gays rain from the ceiling* my dude, take your pick...

Mostly, it adds to the story when not everyone is a cookie cutter, but you always have to hear someone bitch about it, because it causes them distress not to see themselves on the screen. As if someone being a different race, religion, sexuality, gender, socioeconomic class, political stance (okay you know what, I will never sympathise with a republican or the aussie equivalent), etc. is just impossible to empathise with...

Like... how do any of you read books, if that’s the case? Is there an underground society that can only stand to read and re-read the boring-ass Nicholas Sparks novels over and over, praising each cookie-cutter plot and character endlessly? Did I not get the e-vite?

[Not to mention movies like SPLIT, and the one about a transwoman where they cast a cisman, what was that called? - which are inaccurate representations of mental health and gender orientation designed to feed stereotypes]

-

And also, the entire HP fandom losing their minds at the concept harry potter or hermione granger were not white?  Not going to lie, I imagined Hermione like me, a little girl with white skin and big, bushy, fuck-my-life-why-are-you-like-this easily-knottable hair... but other little girls were reading and imagining her just like them, with their features and hairtypes. And that’s totally okay. The varied fanart of poc and white versions of Harry & Hermione are all amazing, and it’s not hurting anyone... but people are still avidly searching the series for proof Harry and Hermione are white, that’s it.  Just look at the backlash for the Cursed Child, when they ‘DARED’ to cast  Noma Dumezweni as Hermione. The HP fandom loved to talk about how inclusive they were... riiiiight up until someone challenged that slf-perception by changing things canonically, and the fandom flipped a table.

Listen... the kids, especially Emma Watson, did an amazing job. They all went on to do amazing things and it’s okay to have them in mind when you read the books, because that’s who a lot of people imagine, now. The hazards of making a book series into a movie series, really, a fixed ideal for the characters. But the thing is, the movie interpretation does not negate whoever else you had in mind for the main characters. Harry and Hermione are ambiguous, feature-wise, save that Harry has his mother’s eyes, and Hermione has bushy/thick/fuck-my-life-the-knots-are-winning hair.

They could be anything, between those narrow parameters. Harry could have been neon pink the whole book and JK would only reveal that afterwards, when the neon-pink aliens come to visit. The only one with specific features was Ron (and also Draco) in which they described the entire family features...

Not to mention, no one loses their shit when people draw Neville pudgy or blonde (like he was in the books)? Where is your ‘must be authentic’ god now...

-

“What is this PC/SJW cuck bullshit?” is still the funniest thing you can ever hear, though, when a movie or show or book ends up with a straight white character (or straight white cismale character) being switched out for something different. Even if it’s an invisible different, people get so up in arms. Thumping bibles and screaming about authenticity... dude, there’s a thousand grimdark muscly overhetero dudes out there in film, you will survive this. Stay strong.

-

This has been a random post, feel free to add in. 

[writeroffanfiction]

Protagonist Prep

Ch. 1 Student Letters “ WriterofFanfiction owns nothing”

Dimesion 54A-2113A “SVTFOE”

In a quaint but odd looking house two teens are examing two strange letter. Actually, one was examining the letters and the other was trying to grab them and open them.

“Star quit trying take them” A teen with dark brown hair and wearing a red hoodie told his friend, A blonde haired blue eyed girl with a slightly crazy grin, while holding the letters in one hand and using the other to keep the girl, now known as Star, at bay.

“Come on Marco aren’t you a little bit curious whats in them?” Star asked with a little bit of annoyance in voice due to Marcos’ lack of enthusiasm to the letters.

“ I’m more worried than curious Star.” Marco answered  which left Star more confused than informed and before she could ask why Marco just explained to her in a sober tone.

“Star, I know you’re probably excited to see whatever in them but we have to be careful from now one. For all we know this could be from Ludo. We can’t be reckless anymore what if Ludo actually manages hurt y…I mean us.” Star donned a rare serious face , although slightly confused by Marcos’ stuttering, rembering how the short bird man was able to actually beat them and take not only the book but Glossyrk as well. However, when she looked at the golden letters they filled her with wonder and somehow hope so she just looked straight him in the eye and said.

“ Marco, look we don’t know that and who knows maybe it could be something awesome. So can we open them please.” Star begged with big puppy dog eyes which Marco couldn’t say no to. Defeated Marco just sighed and said.

“Fine Star but can we be cautious. I really don’t want this to be a trap.” Which Star replied in a happy go lucky tone.

“Okay.”

Dimension 36A-8376H (Penn Zero Part Time Hero)

Inside an abandoned movie theater three kids are being pulled out from a different dimension by a futuristic device by an interdimensional tractor beam.

“Well guys I would call that mission a success.” A semi tall red headed teen boy exclaimed in a prideful tone. While a tan dark haired Asian girl voiced somewhat different opinion.

“Penn I’m pretty sure waiting at the last minute to do anything isn’t called saving it’s called being lazy.” The girl deadpanned. While the red head, Penn, just gasped and looked fake hurt and said.

“Oh, Sash how you wound me so.” The girl, Sashi, just rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. However, something was amiss in the movie theater and one of the group of teens noticed it.

“Hey, Phyllis what ya holding?” A pudgy brown haired teen named Boone asked a gray-haired woman holding three golden letters in her hand. The gray-haired woman, Phyllis, just told the teens in bored tone although it has a slight hint of worry and fear in it.

“These came for you when you finished the mission.”  The three teens looked at the letters with a tiny bit of fear in their eyes but somehow that was crushed by their curiosity. It was Penn who asked the question.

“ Who sent the letters?”  Phyllis ,for the first time that the teens have that emotion were a mix of  fear and admiration.

“ I know him by reputation only but it is good one.” The teens were confused but if this guy was able to get Phyllis to admire him then he can’t be that bad, right?

Dimension 2B-986ZG (Invader Zim}

“For the love god hurry up”

Hey don’t rush me it takes time okay. A little but highly annoying robot raced to his master’s secret headquarters and he did so by flushing himself down a toilet? “Don’t ask.” Anyhow the robot just ran throughout the strange lab filled with strange experiments from failed giant machines to misfire weapons. The robot past all that until he stopped at a roundish port with a work table and large purplish reddish chair behind the table. At this moment that the robot made its presence known and yelled at top of its vocal processor.

“Master something came for you!!!” After the robot yelled there was a small explosion and dark plume a smoke came from behind the chair. The chair spun until short green alien with purple eyes and soot covering his face came into view with a highly-annoyed look.  Said alien was Zim an invader from quote unquote Drooler “An entire species of weaklings, idiots and gluttons. Heck the only good ones are those who aren’t even part of the empire.” Any way said invader spoke to the robot in an extremely venom filled tone.

“Gir what could be so important that you had to interrupt and destroy my progress.” The robot, Gir, clearly not hearing the hate in his master voice just cheerfully replied.

“A letter came for you!!” And at this moment Zims’ rage at the little robot flowed like a flooded river.

“ You mean to tell me that you just wasted my time and progress just to tell me that I got outdated human communication paper!” Gir for once actually realized what he had and started to shake and tried to justify his actions.

“I…it said f…from… him.” Gir stuttered out. Zims anger dissipated and turned into fear and curiosity. However it was unknown to him that two of the same letter had arrived at a certain brother and sister home.

Dimension 875-12SC (Steven Universe)

Outside of a strange house/temple a pair of teens were discussing the latest adventure the two of them had.

“So, you really got to see another diamond and other gems too!?” A young bushy black haired girl of Indian descent exclaimed. While a  young curly black haired boy with a pink gem in his stomach answered? “Don’t ask long story.” “Yeah but Blue wasn’t like yellow at all. Blue was kinder she even care for the humans even though it was for a friend but still. Oh by the way how was your time as a crystal temp?” The boy with “Half Gem.” What? “Just call him half gem or otherwise a lot of people are going to get pissed.” Fine half gem answered and asked the young girl who just blushed and laughed saying.

“Well let’s just say it was interesting.” The two teens were about to continue talking about their adventures until they saw a certain mailman walking down the beach towards them.

“Hey Steven, hey Connie.” The mailman greeted the teens. To which the teens greeted back.

“Hey Jamie” “Hey Jamie what are you delivering?” Steven asked the overdramatic mailman who simply replied.

“Oh, not much, a few packages, wififlim movies, and some letters. Speaking of, I have two letters one for you and one for Connie.” Jamie answered. As he handed them the two golden letters the two teens had different views on these letters. Steven looked at them with wonder and literal stars in his eyes. While Connie looked at with worry and slight feeling of terror and something grim. Steven was about to open his letter until.

“Steven wait, I don’t think we should open these.” Connie suggested with a hint of fear which confused Steven a letter couldn’t scare anyone, could it?

“Connie, can I open please!! Who knows what it could be a ticket for a fancy cruise, a million dollars or uhh oh it could be a chance voice a cartoon character!”  The young half gem exclaimed in anticipation trying to convince his friend. Connie just sighed knowing it would be impossible to change his mind when he’s excited about something. So, shaking her head in defeat and laughed saying.

“Fine, but if something bad happens we get the gems okay.”

“Okay!” He exclaimed in joy of being able to open the

Dimension 7735-2246MA (Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir)

“Finally, this story is almost over. You really like hearing yourself talk huh.”

Oh, shut up. Uhm anyway at Collége Francois Dupont six teenagers are currently having a falling out. Well, actually two are having a falling out, one is trying to stop it, and three are hiding.

“There is no way that Ladybug would be friends with a snob like you!” A dark-skinned girl with glasses and dark brown hair with reddish highlights yelled at a blonde haired and blue eyed girl. In return the girl yelled back.

“ At least its more likely she hang out with me than hang out with someone like you!” The glasses girl was about to retort until a blue haired Asian girl with pig tails tried to step in and asked them.

“Alya, Chloe why the heck are you two even fighting over this? Besides why does this even matter?”  Which she was met with hostilities. Most of which was from Chloe.

“Stay out of this Marinette!” “Sorry, girl but this queen bee needs to be taken off her throne!” Marinette just sighed and shock head while sending a small glare to two boys hiding behind a desk one with blonde hair and green eyes the other with light brown skin with black hair. Both gave Marinette an apologetic and sheepish grin while going back to hiding behind the desk but what happened next nothing could protect from the wrath of the fangirls.

“ Your Ladybug cosplay is bad that not even Copy Chat would call his lady.” Alya screamed at Chloe who donned a look of extreme rage and embarrassment. The entire class went dead silent all of them even the teacher all of them wondering and fearing what was going to happen next until all of them heard a noise. Everyone looked at the source of the noise which to their surprise was one the arguably strangest and funniest thing they ever saw. Said thing is a tall, dark red haired, muscular mailman with scars on his face but the funniest part is that hes’ wearing an outfit that’s a bit small for him specifically 2 sizes to small. “ A shut up I took it off the first mailman I knocked out. How was I supposed to know that he would be a dwarf.”  The mailman just ignored the looks and snickers of laughter from the students and walked straight towards the desk of a very confused and slightly frightened teacher. The mailman either didn’t know or ignored it and just bluntly asked in a bored or annoyed tone.

“ Is there a Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Alya Césaire, Nino Laniffe, Nathaniel Kurtzberg, and a Chloe Bourgeois in this classroom?”

The teacher getting over her initial shock and answered in a shaky voice “Nino, Adrien, and Chole are in the front row. Marinette and Alya are in the second row and Nathaniel is at the back row.” “Okay thanks”  Is all the mailman said to the woman. He started to pass the letters out to Nino, Alya, Marinette, Adrien and Chloe as well to Nathaniel a red haired bluish green eyed boy. He was almost out the door of the classroom when one of the kids who got a letter yelled.

“What are these for?” The mailman just grinned and yelled back without turning to look.

“For something great!” Then the letters given out in the certain dimensions burst opened and inside them was a piece of paper sayin.

“ Dear future students. It gives me great joy and excitement to inform you that have been accepted to enroll at Protagonist Prep. Now you may be wondering what is Protagonist Prep well it is a highly rewarded and prestigious school only for a selected few. Now to arrive at this school all you have to is these words Afino daravaaza apartu jadi saya puet entrer. Good luck.”

La final

“Finally, this story over, I thought it wouldn’t end.” Oh, hush up and besides aren’t you forgetting something.  “What do you. Oh god the mailman!” Now its La Final.

#star vs the forces of evil #penn zero part time hero #miraculous ladybug #crossover #multifandom #steven universe

[pumpkins-s]

Spilling Like An Overflowing Sink

Read on AO3 Here

Read the Other Chapters on Tumblr Here

Lance Alexander Rafael McClain is born in the middle of a summer storm, thunder cracking and rain slamming onto the roof of an old ramshackle house that had seen more than its fair share of children.

The miracle baby, that’s what the family had called Lance. The unexpected son to a mother of five daughters.

(In which family is always complicated, Lance’s life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, and he and Keith are really emotionally constipated for each other.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: Keith/Lance, significant platonic Lance & Hunk

Characters: Lance, Lance’s family, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Coran

Chapter 6: Live

(( Author’s Note: Heyo, new year, new update!

This wasn't originally going to be its own full chapter, but after doing the math on length and having just suffered through writing a 15k update for another fic (I'm serious, I did that, kill me), I decided to split the planned chapter up. Hence this. Now, before anyone asks, a lot of you have been asking about Keith, so I'll just say this-- They meet when Lance is 15. He's 11 now. How fast we get to Keith depends on how much of the next 4, Very Important, I'll add, years of Lance's life I cover, so please be patient, k? You'll get Keith in a chapter or two.

And!! Before we begin!! This fic has its own first piece of fanart!! I've been told it's a WIP, but it's still amazing so I have to show it off-- So everyone go check out Peachlance's gorgeous art of young Hunk and Lance. It's beautiful. I yelled in the middle of an airport when I saw it. (BTW if anyone ever does fanart for this fic and I miss it because it's on another site or whatever, please tell me in a comment on this fic or an ask to my tumblr with the link, I'd hate to miss it!!)

Also!! I'm on Twitter now since there seems to be a significant portion of the Voltron fandom that prefers that to Tumblr. I don't post a ton on it, but I'll be putting out update notifications from now on, so if you want those and my all-caps tweets yelling at Aiden, my irl Keith friend, feel free to follow me, yeah?

Ok that's it you can ignore me now here's Lance have fun y'all.))

Come September, Lance and Hunk pack their bags and move into the dormitories at Greenwood, accompanied by their moving team of the entire McClain family, plus Hunk’s grandmother— The whole lot of them piling into the old family jeep and pickup truck and Hunk’s grandmother’s tiny, ancient Toyota with an assortment of random things they’re each separately convinced Lance and Hunk are going to need.

Lance imagines they make quite the sight, pulling up to the pristine parking spaces outside the Greenwood buildings and piling out of the cars in a haphazard mess of long limbs and a loud mix of Spanish and English that blends together into a background noise that is comforting in its familiarity against the apprehensive mystery that is Greenwood. They certainly do get their fair share of stares as they cram into the entry building for student check-in, confirming that, yes, they are indeed all relatives, and are here to help Lance and Hunk move in.

Honestly, Lance has to admit they’re all pretty restrained, all things considered. Everyone knows how important this is to him, and to Hunk, in his own way, and his family is hardly inclined to mess this up for them, so there’s a fair degree of… what Lance might dare call caution in their behavior. They’re loud, and talkative, and move around a lot, because they’re McClains and that’s what they do when they move as a pack, but Karen doesn’t try to play soccer in the dorm hall, Igraine doesn’t punch anyone, even Marcie restrains herself from commenting loudly on the hairstyle choices of the people around them.

…Ok, yeah, she whispers a few comments under her breath to Lance, but that was still a marked effort on her part, and she was right that one guy’s undercut had been so sloppily done it was painful to look at, even Lance could agree on that.

Karen hadn’t seen anything wrong with it but, then again, that was Karen, who’s thought processes concerning her hair began and ended at where the nearest scrunchie was to pull it up into its perpetual bushy ponytail, much to Marcie and Lance’s horror.

If anything though, Lance thinks they just get odd looks because they’re… them. A large, loud, Cuban family who clearly don’t have the money to be here, let alone the pedigree.

“Fuck em.” Igraine mutters firmly under her breath the first time a mother helping her son with his bags scoffs at them when they pass by in the dormitory hall. “You’ve earned your right to be here. At least you didn’t buy your way in.”

“Igraine.” Aunt Rosa snaps, slapping her on the arm, and Lance snorts loudly, earning a victorious smirk from his sister even as she whines and cradles her arm as if it’s now broken. The burst of noise only earns them more side-eyes from the people in the hall, and Lance ducks his head sheepishly, scratching at the back of it nervously. He’s still not used to his short hair, really, and when he’s anxious he tends to find it feels quite itchy. At least the bangs that frame his face are just long enough to play with and twirl with his fingers. He thinks he’d lose his mind otherwise, far too used to having long curls to twirl and braid and tie into loose knots when he gets fidgety— Honestly, he has no idea what he’s gonna do in class now to keep his hands busy.

Eventually, they get all the boxes into his and Hunk’s room (and thank God for that little blessing, Lance doesn’t know how he’d function if they hadn’t been allowed to pre-choose their roommates), stacked up along the walls and all over the floor. Frankly, it seems like far more than the two of them will need to Lance, especially given they barely live an hour or so away, but a good portion of the boxes are things he can identify as not having packed himself, snuck in amongst all their other belongings, no doubt random pieces of junk his family has decided they require. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if he found something as random as a paper towel dispenser or half-empty bottles of shampoo, honestly. Knowing his family, it’s far too likely. He still remembers with a kind of abject horror the mess that was Carlos and Rachel moving into their new house.

It’s… different, bringing all his things in here and trying to make it a living space. Lance has only had one room his entire life, and if he ever slept in another room in the house, it had always been with Loraine. But… Loraine isn’t here anymore, and this is not his house.

Luckily, the adults largely take over once they get everything in, rearranging the school-provided furniture, getting the beds made with sheets and quilts and extra pillows, and unpacking the heaviest books. It only takes about ten minutes before Uncle Jesús, Lucas, Igraine, and Lance’s grandfather are kicked out of the room under orders to go get food for everyone, once it quickly becomes clear Lance and Hunk’s dorm room is not large enough to have all of them milling around in it. As it is, they still barely fit, shuffling past each other and ducking out into the hall as they work to make room. It’s a mess, but… nice. Lance is going to miss not being around his family every day, and so the squished hustle of it all is something he chooses to savor rather than be frustrated with.

When it comes time for families to leave, the extended visiting hours for the move-in day coming to an end once night falls, it’s a long, drawn-out procession of goodbyes. Lance has to patiently remind his mother and sisters that he’ll see them all again come the weekend, but even while reassuring them, he himself can’t help but cling to them tightly when they embrace him, memorizing his mother’s warmth, Marcie’s fruity smell, Karen’s chapped lips when she kisses the side of his head, the sharp dig of Igraine’s multiple ear piercings against his cheek when she hugs him tight. Each of them distinct in the little things that mark them as who they are— Marcie and her guiding softness, Karen’s grounding reassurance, Igraine’s fire, Evie’s quick wit.

His sisters.

…And Lance, the shadow to the all-encompassing, insurmountable ocean.

“Are these… Christmas lights. Yep, they’re Christmas lights.” Lance glances up at Hunk’s bewildered words, and snorts loudly, shaking his head in slight disbelief. Even with their families’ help, there’d still been plenty left to unpack once they left, and apparently they were hitting the boxes of weird stuff now.

“Just throw them on one of the desks for now.” Lance says dismissively, turning back to his own box, while Hunk bemusedly gathers up the lights in his arms and stares at them.

“…We could string them up along the ceiling? Like college students do in the movies?”

“Wouldn’t that be a safety code violation?” Lance asks, unfolding the flaps on the box in front of him and blinking in surprise. “…Why.”

“What?” Hunk says, frowning, and Lance sighs, straightening up and pulling out the large Cuban flag he’d found stuffed in the top of the box.

“I bet my abuelita put it in— She does realize I was born in the U.S., right?”

“Maybe she just wants you to be proud of your heritage. It’s a good thing.” Hunk says mildly, and Lance rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, come talk to me when you find your giant New Zealand flag then.”

“Actually…” Reaching into the new box he’s just opened, Hunk pulls out a miniature New Zealand flag on a stick and waves it back and forth. “It seems my grandmother had a similar thought pattern.” Idly, he peers into the box. “…Oh look there’s an All Blacks flag there too.”

“Jesus.”

“He’s over there.” Hunk says, pointing at the crucifix sitting on Lance’s bedside table, also a gift from his grandmother, Lance suspects.

Lance grabs the pillow off his bed closest to him and chucks it at Hunk’s head.

Hunk dodges easily, not even sparing Lance a look as he pulls a few books out of the box and sets them on his desk. Lance huffs in irritation and chucks the flag onto the edge of his bed to deal with later, emptying the rest of the box to find… yarn, lots and lots of yarn.

Wincing, he runs a hand over the closest ball, a light pink that’s soft to the touch. He’d learned to knit from Marcie, who’d in turn learned from their grandmother, as something to do with his hands when he was feeling overly fidgety. It had been nice, something he enjoyed, even if he’d mostly only made scarves and blankets, but since Loraine’s death he hadn’t touched his knitting needles, the whole activity too drenched in memories of being tucked up on Loraine’s bed with her watching a movie as he moves the yarn through his fingers.

He gives it a moment of hesitation, and then folds the box shut and pushes it under his bed.

Knitting’s probably not a normal boy’s thing anyways.

“Hey help me with this box.” Lance startles, standing up and going over to where Hunk is standing next to a large box, helping him push it into the spot they’d cleared for emptying and sorting boxes and cutting the tape on the top. Hunk opens the flaps and reaches in, pulling out a mess of fabric. “Clothes. Guess we missed a box earlier. Looks like these are all yours.” Lance takes the bundle of shirts from Hunk and opens a dresser drawer, dropping them in before moving onto the next handful. They’re all plain or with simple logos, old things he’d gotten from Lucas and Carlos, a few of Karen’s old things when she wore more masculine clothing for a while when she was younger. He’d purposely made sure to leave out all the old floral-patterned tops and frilly blouses along with the other clothing hidden in the back of his closet when he’d picked out what to pack— He hadn’t needed too many clothes, anyways, since the school had uniforms. This was mostly just for lounging around the dorm or days when casual wear was permitted.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hunk reach for something in the box, pulling out an old grey shirt and staring at it, brows furrowed and a question clearly on the tip of his tongue. Before he can say anything, Lance quickly snatches the shirt out of his grasp, throwing it in the drawer with the rest of the clothing and shutting it firmly, ignoring Hunk’s questioning eyes even as they follow him as he folds up the now empty box and drops it into the pile with its brethren in the corner.

He knows Hunk has noticed the change in his clothing, his mannerisms, as distinct as his hair, but he’s not ready for the questions yet.

…He’s not yet come up with an answer.

“How many boxes do we have left?” He asks pointedly, kicking the pile of empty boxes into a more reasonable shape.

“Oh! Uh…” Hunk startles, and glancing back Lance watches him peer around the room. “Nine or ten? We’ve gotten all the big ones, we could always do the rest tomorrow after orientation.”

Lance frowns. “If you’re tired, you can sleep now. I want to finish tonight so we don’t have to worry.”

He’s too jittery to sleep, honestly. Nerves and fears and excitement about being away from Veradera, from home, but being here, colliding together in a mess of emotion and displaced energy. Hunk hesitates, shaking his head, and Lance can tell he feels much the same.

“Nah, let’s just… get it all done tonight.”

Lance nods, grabbing a box off the stack and passing it to Hunk before grabbing one himself, setting it on top of his bed and opening it up. Once he gets the flaps on the top open, though, he freezes, feeling ice trickle through his veins and under his skin as he stares down at the box. “…Dammit, Marcie.”

“What’s wrong?” Hunk asks behind him, and Lance jolts.

“Nothing. Just. Stuff I told her not to pack that she put in anyways.”

In the box sits the things Marcie and Lance had bonded over for years, the skills she had taught him— The child-size makeup case she’d given him, filled with bottles of tacky nail polish in bright, sparkly colors, the lip gloss set Mavis had sent him along with others his sisters had gifted him, a couple old, thick pen eyeliners Igraine had given him, a cheap set of cheerful eye-shadows Carlos had bought him from the dollar store as a present last year. Next to the makeup case is the little box of hair ribbons he used to use, and with a pang of hurt at the sight, Lance wonders why Marcie would even put those in. He cut his hair. It’s done, no changing it.

It’s done.

That Lance— Lancie, Loo-Loo, whatever, whatever he was, is nothing now. Just a pile of memories buried away with his old clothes in the shadowed places no one will think to look.

With only a second’s hesitation, fingers drifting over the top of the makeup case, Lance folds the box top shut, picking it up and shoving it under his bed, crawling under after it to make sure it is pushed to the furthest corner against the walls, and then shoves the other boxes being stored under his bed around it for good measure, until it’s hidden from sight.

There’s no room for that… person anymore.

“Hey, you alright?” Lance feels a foot prod the back of his leg as Hunk’s voice pipes up, and he yelps, shooting up and slamming his head against the underside of his bed, pain blossoming through his skull as his vision blurs.

“…Ow.”

“Lance?!”

“I’m fine, just…” He groans, wiggling back out from under the bed and staring up at Hunk tiredly. “You surprised me.”

Hunk grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m just… hungry. They said there’s snacks left out in the dorm lounge tonight, right? Since a lot of students skipped dinner to unpack.”

“Yeah.” Lance nods, wincing when that sends another spike of pain through his head. “You want to go get some?”

“Please.”

They barely make it five steps down the hall before the whispers, the sidelong glances start— There’s plenty of other students still out in the hall, curfew rules given some leeway due to the fact it’s move-in day, and out here Lance and Hunk stick out like sore thumbs. In uniforms Lance imagines they’ll look much like everyone else, but everyone’s milling about in casual clothing right now, and Lance and Hunk’s worn, clearly hand-me-down sweaters and jeans with their tears in the knees make a sharp contrast to the neat, new clothes the other kids sport. Glancing down uncomfortably, Lance tries not to stare too hard at his own bare feet in comparison to the clean-looking shoes many of the others he can spot are wearing.

He hadn’t even thought to put shoes on. His sneakers were for the mud of the park and the cracked gravel of the street, not for indoors. Lance is pretty sure his mother would kill him if he ever wore his grubby shoes on inside. Even Marcie’s pretty work pumps that she had saved for months for and looks after with religious zeal come off at the door at home.

He’s so preoccupied with his little thought derailment of the etiquette of shoes on versus shoes off, Lance doesn’t even notice the boys rounding the corner until he quite literally slams into one, their chin connecting with his forehead, sending him reeling back in surprised pain, Hunk catching him with a startled yelp.

“What the fuck?” Someone says in a surprised, vaguely annoyed voice, and Lance glances up cautiously as he straightens back up, wincing when he makes eye contact with an older-looking boy with pale skin and short red-blond hair who is currently glaring at him like he’s a particularly disgusting piece of gum under his shoe.

“S-Sorry.” He stutters on instinct, taking a step back and slamming into Hunk, who Lance had conveniently forgotten was right behind him.

“Sorry? You damn well should be!” The older boy says with a kind of miffed outrage, crossing his arms as the other boy next to him looms over Lance and Hunk. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you to watch where you’re going?”

“He said sorry.” Hunk says, taking a step forward, and Lance gratefully ducks behind Hunk. It’s hardly his proudest moment, but these boys are at least a head taller than him and could probably bench-press him easy— Lance is tiny even for an eleven-year-old, and Hunk, lucky bastard, sits rather tall and large for a twelve-year-old. Between the two of them, Lance likes Hunk’s chances of at least getting the other boys to back down, given they can’t really risk their scholarships by getting into a fistfight on their first day.

“What are you, his bodyguard? Back off, lumpy.” Big and scary scowls. “I’m talking to the twig.” He raises an eyebrow at Lance, and snorts. “How the hell did you get into this school? What are you, a Mexican?”

Lance flushes, pushing past Hunk with every intention of informing the boy that he is Cuban, thank you very much, and that he can, frankly, fuck right off, when a serenely cheerful voice beats him to the punch.

“Demonstrating a deep and layered understanding of the various nuances of the Hispanic identity as always, Travis.” A girl says from an open door on the left, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. “Then again, you’d probably know quite a bit about Mexico, right? Given your daddy gets his cocaine stash from there.”

The boy turns red, spluttering. “Fuck off, Ritchie.”

“Oh, right.” The girl hums, lifting a hand to inspect her nails. “I suppose I could fuck off? Could fuck off right to the headmaster’s office. I’ve been meaning to look in on my granddad since I arrived.”

The boy pales, and his friend grabs his arm, pulling him away. “C’mon, man. Not worth it.” The two turn, disappearing around the corner, and the girl watches them go with a satisfied smirk.

“Bye!” She trills, and then turns back to Hunk and Lance with a raised eyebrow. “You two all good?”

“Uh.” Lance glances at Hunk, who shrugs, eyes wide in confusion. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problemo.” The girl says happily. “Travis and Jordan are mcfucking pricks. I like any excuse to tell them to fuck off.”

“…Okay?” Lance says awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. Subconsciously he brings a hand up to play with his hair, like he usually does when he’s nervous, only to meet air and flinch, pulling his hand down as he remembers there’s nothing there anymore.

“Ritzie!” An exasperated voice calls from inside the room behind the girl, and a boy with short black hair, dark eyes, and a scowl appears in the doorway. “Stop harassing new students.”

The girl gasps, placing a hand over her heart. “Me? Never. I’m only introducing myself.” Sticking a hand out to Lance, she grins. “Isabel Lamae, but everyone calls me Ritzie. At your service.”

“…Lance. Lance McClain.” Lance answers, carefully taking her hand and inspecting the girl before him. Ritzie is tall and willowy, probably two or three years older than him, if he had to guess, with thick blonde hair pulled up in two pony-buns on the sides of her head in a style Lance finds reminiscent of Sailor Moon, and wide, thick-rimmed purple glasses. She’s pretty, he guesses, in an eclectic kind of way, and her easy confidence reminds him a bit of Igraine. “That’s Hunk.” He says, pointing over his shoulder, and Hunk waves.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Ritzie parrots back cheerfully. “The grumpy one who yelled at me is Yuu, my roommate.” Behind her, the boy’s eyes narrow, fixing a glare at the back of her head.

“I thought boys and girls couldn’t room together?” Hunk asks curiously, looking between Ritzie and Yuu.

“They can’t.” Ritzie says, sticking her hands in her pockets with a self-satisfactory smirk and pursing her lips, blowing a bright pink bubble out that explodes after a moment with a quiet little pop.

“Then…”

“Her grandfather’s the headmaster.” Yuu sighs, seemingly giving up and approaching them to stand next to Ritzie in the doorway. “Which means she does whatever she wants.”

Hunk pales, staring at Ritzie with wide eyes. “Oh my God your grandfather’s the headmaster.”

“Chill.” Ritzie says, idly waving a hand. “You two are new, right? Scholarship, I’m guessing? No offense but you can usually guess.” Lance winces, and Ritzie shoots him finger guns. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad, you two look like you deserve it.” She nods to herself, looking pleased. “I have an eye for these things.”

“Well, she thinks she does.” Yuu says, rolling his eyes.

“…Great.” Hunk says faintly.

“Yep.” Ritzie nods, pausing for a moment, head tilting, and then pulls out a small packet from her pocket and offers it to them. “Bubblegum?”

Lance blinks, glancing at Hunk who subtly shakes his head, eyes wide.

“…Sure. Why not.” Lance says, already reaching out.

And that is how he and Hunk end up accidentally befriending Ritzie Lamae and Yuu Itami, the livewire princess of Greenwood and her sounding board slash handler.

Slowly, they fall into something like a settling at the Academy, or at least a semblance of it. It’s… undeniably odd, being even this far away from Veradera on a daily basis, but Lance finds it’s somewhat the change he needs. He misses home, of course. He misses it like hell, but he still gets to come back on the weekends, to revisit his sisters, his family, the worn staircases of his home, the faded glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, the cracks in the concrete outside his driveway, the crab-grass riddled front yard of Hunk’s small house where his now aging dog sleeps in the afternoon sun, the white, bright sand of Veradera beach, the creaking pews of the church, the feel of Loraine’s gravestone against his back.      

And this way, he’s still alleviated from the… pressures of his home. Lance will never say he feels unsafe or unwelcome in his house, because there would never be a bigger lie. His family would protect him with their lives. But… it’s also hard being there sometimes now. The gaping loss of Loraine, while scabbing over, is still achingly fresh in all their chests, and while Lance doesn’t have the heart to place any more undue burdens on his family in their grief, pretending to be okay all the time is, frankly, exhausting.

Because, ultimately, Lance is very aware he isn’t okay. He’s better than he was— He’s learned to function again, to survive, but a mediocre duct-taped job holding together solely on hope and a prayer doesn’t fix something firmly broken. Lance is never going to be whole again, not in his soul or his heart, he knows, in a way he can’t put into words. Even once the worst of the grief and the agony has been worked through, one day, this is something he will never move past. The connection between himself and Loraine was intimate and fathomless in a way he shares with no one else. He holds something similar with Hunk, he thinks, but it’s different. Hunk is someone he feels close to, like they hold a connection beyond their time together, but Loraine was like… the other half of his mind. Losing her fractured something deep inside his soul, well beyond the definitions of his short childhood or his yet unlived years.

Sometimes, he wonders if this is what the oceans might feel like, if someone came along and placed blocks between them, severing Pacific and Indian and Artic. That’s not the way things are meant to be, he thinks. Water is meant to intermingle and run together. You can’t take one piece of water and say it is different from another, when they are meant to be one.

Lance’s only other comfort in his thoughts, to rival that of knowing his family doesn’t have to see these broken pieces of himself, is that Hunk is here with him. Hunk, who picks him up and puts him back together when he falls. Hunk, who listens to his nonsensical ramblings about water and souls and Loraine with an understanding and patience beyond his years, and cleans up Lance’s messes afterwards, coaxing the blades from Lance’s skin before he can do more harm to himself, and forcing him to sleep and eat and keep up appearances in class.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Hunk, Lance really isn’t sure if he would have survived those first few months at Greenwood.

The other surprisingly consistent presences he finds at his side are Ritzie and Yuu, who seem to take an attachment to Lance and Hunk after that first encounter on move-in day. Or… at least Ritzie does. Lance suspects Yuu usually just goes along with whatever Ritzie fancies, either unable or unwilling to talk her out of her ideas, instead simply hanging around for something like quality control, and to make sure Ritzie doesn’t get herself killed.

Ritzie is easy to get along with, Lance finds. She’s beyond privileged, as pretty much almost everyone at the Academy is, but not arrogant or obnoxious about it. She has an ego, but only for the things she achieves herself— Not beyond showing off, largely the opposite honestly, but only for her own brilliance, never her family’s money or influence, unless she threatens it to protect an underprivileged or younger student who’s getting shit from the kids who do think their money entitles them to everything.

Lance has never been able to hold a friend beyond Hunk, too smart and too little and too different to give him much popularity before, but he… he likes Ritzie. She’s just as smart as him, as many others here are, and fun. She doesn’t care about his age or size, judging him by his kindness to others and his “interestingness”, as she puts it. He doesn’t tell her about… Himself, about the Lancie-Loo of Veradera beach, and Loraine, and promises to stars, but those are secrets reserved to Hunk and his heart, for a dead child who can no longer be to survive and do what he plans to. Still, he enjoys her company, embracing her loudness and her quirkiness and her spitfire energy. Hunk is slower to warm up to her, but even he can’t avoid her cheerful charisma.

Yuu is trickier, Lance finds. Despite his disgruntled complaints, he shows himself to be very attached to Ritzie, her right-hand man. He’s dismissive towards Lance and Hunk at first. Not in a mean way, but just as if he assumes they’ll soon get tired of Ritzie, or Ritzie will get bored and that will be the end of it, but with time, he seems to unfurl, accepting Lance and Hunk as occasional presences in his and Ritzie’s space. Yuu and Hunk get along well, once they both get over their personal cautions. Yuu is analytical design and portable game devices and formulas for circuitry and wires, and that clicks well with Hunk’s easy joy in technology, in science, in creation.

Ritzie is more… charm and exploratory whim. Bold words and the written truth in print and demand for answers to everything and anything. They’re traits Lance and her share, in part, and he figures that’s largely why they mesh so easily.

And so, while he and Hunk remain partners in crime, formed by unbreakable trust, Ritzie and Yuu also become on-and-off presences in their days, offering new company and idle chatter.

It’s… nice.

Adjusting to the academic side of Greenwood is its own bag of worms though, Lance discovers.

For once, Lance is no longer the youngest, smallest child in his grade. Instead, he finds his classes filled with a mix of different kids, sharing space with children several years younger than him, as well as those older, including Ritzie and Yuu occasionally, despite them being a year older than Hunk and two older than Lance. Class in general is less regular— They don’t take the same classes all the time, and aside from some basics, the curriculum is a lot less regimented.

Greenwood is, as Ritzie calls it, “a true magnet school”, dedicated to producing students who rake in accreditations and awards for the school. As such, Lance finds that pretty much every student is dedicated to one or two clubs or particular talents, be they academic, artistic, or athletic.

It only takes a few weeks before one of their science teachers pulls Hunk aside and recruits him to the competitive robotics and engineering clubs, his talent for schematics and building the impossible out of scraps, long honed from years hanging around Igraine and Lance’s uncle at the repair shop, quickly coming to light. As for the rest of Lance’s miniscule social circle, Ritzie is part of the school’s elite debate and mock trial teams, and Yuu the mathematics team, along with the same robotics team Hunk is dragged into.

Lance himself doesn’t really find an easy niche. His specialty, much as it can be called that, has always been being moderately decent at everything. It was what had allowed him to jump a grade, given there was no one subject he was significantly less proficient in than the rest. He has odd skills he’s picked up, but they’re all what he’s learned from his family— An intricate knowledge of makeup and hairstyling techniques thanks to Marcie, basic understanding of an engine via Igraine, some easy programming skills and how to hedge a wifi signal he’s locked out of courtesy of Evie, etcetera. Regardless, if he has any particular skills, they’re not any he can identify or that immediately stick out.

The thing is, Lance’d be fine with that, normally. So what if he’s not an expert in anything? He’s relatively good at most academics, speaks two languages perfectly, can keep up in P.E. just fine, and knows quite a bit about astronomy. But, the problem lies in the inherent purpose of Greenwood— To pull in as many accolades as possible. To not have a talent that can bring awards to the school is to be useless to it, and not a position he can afford to be in as a scholarship student.

Honestly, he stumbles across his saving grace completely on accident. It’s one of the lunch breaks when Hunk and Yuu are off with the robotics team for… something, it kind of goes over his head, and Ritzie is nowhere to be found, possibly off trying to break into somewhere she’s not supposed to be. Lance is left alone and bored, and accidentally finds some other students, a couple of which he gets along with well enough, playing chess in one of the common areas. On a whim, he asks to play, and one of the older students, who is known to be a bit of a cocky bastard, agrees with a smug smirk, probably assuming he can beat Lance easy as he explains the rules of each piece with a breezy air.

He isn’t smiling when Lance beats him five minutes later, his eyes wide as he stares at Lance’s equally shocked expression.

By the time Lance has thoroughly thrashed the next three others that challenge him, each of them waiting for Lance’s lucky streak to end almost as much as he himself is, one of the upper-grade math teachers finds them, and pulls Lance into her office for a… talk about his sudden new skill.

Within the next month and a half, he plays through three chess tournaments and ends up with two grandmasters coaching him that the school hires the minute he somehow wins his first competition.

Turns out he’s really fucking good at chess, not that Lance would guess that any more than most people would either.

“Of course you are.” Is what Mavis says to him when he tells her over the phone, ever as much the confidante to him she became over the end of summer. “You’re good at reading people and have a head for analysis, Loraine always talked about how smart you are. Try some language and statistics courses, that kind of thing. I think you’ll be fine.”

So Lance does.

The first Christmas home from Greenwood, and the first without Loraine is… odd. Christmas has always been a big deal with their family, and it’s his and Hunk’s first extended break home from the Academy, so while it’s nice to be back its also feels vaguely overwhelming. Lance really isn’t sure how being around his family, people he sees almost every weekend, can be exhausting, but it’s… difficult, to try and come back and get into the holiday cheer. Sleeping in his room in the house for more than a day or two feels odd, and Lance is grateful that by day two Hunk gives up the ghost and migrates over to the McClain house with his pillow for pretty much the rest of winter break.

It’s not bad. It’s nice being with his family and having a couple weeks to hang around Veradera, but there’s still an absence that sticks in Lance’s throat. He misses Loraine, achingly so, and being back home only emphasizes that.

It’s hard, knowing that this situation isn’t going to change, that she’s… never coming back.

Mavis avoids coming home completely for Christmas, a point Lance loudly berates her for over the phone, but she waxes poetic about not having the money and then mails him down a less-than-cheap looking dark blue sweater and a chessboard as Christmas presents.

“Don’t tell the others, but you’re my favorite.” She says, with put-on melodrama, when he calls her about the presents. “Besides if you have to dress like… that, it might as well be nice stuff.”

That’s another aspect that makes Lance’s skin itch uncomfortably about being home. He hasn’t allowed himself to touch the discarded clothing of his old life in the back of his wardrobe any time he comes home for the weekend, and he holds himself to that over the break as well. It’s not worth the risk, really, and part of him is afraid that, if he indulged, he might not have the heart to give it up and go back to living as this new image of himself at Greenwood only a couple weeks later.

Practice makes perfect. Surely, with time, he will come to accept this boyish, awkward version of himself he sees in the mirror.

So, he remains as he has taught himself to be, despite the worried glances his family still sometimes cast at him, and comforts himself with the familiarities of home. He spends time with his sisters, his mother, aunts, and uncle, he visits Carlos and Rachel two streets over, plays with Josie, no longer a small baby but an excitable toddler eagerly awaiting the promise of a sibling from her parents, walks the beaches with Hunk, chases the cracks in the gravel on the sidewalks on the way to the dairy shop, and sits in the garage under león’s shadow, the hoverbike preserved lovingly by Igraine and waiting, promised to Lance once he’s big enough, because of course it’s his, Loraine would have wanted him to have it.

Sometimes, in the early mornings, when the sun isn’t quite yet risen and the last of the stars are yet to sleep, Lance will sneak out to the churchyard, will dust the snow off Loraine’s gravestone and sit with his back to it, ignoring the chill of the wind and the nip of the snow against his fingers, because he always forgets gloves, always, and tells her about Greenwood, about his life.

Lance wonders, occasionally, if she would be proud of him, of what he’s doing to preserve their dream, her dream.

He hopes so. He really, really hopes so.

He wants more than anything to be the legacy Loraine deserves, to be worthy of the pride and the love and the confidence she had always held in him.

He feels closer to her, oddly enough, there with his back against the stone, or with his head pressed to it as he traces the words on the stone, and occasionally, on the ever slowly re-healing scars on his skin.

Loraine Ophelia Eliza, Loraine Ophelia Eliza, Loraine Ophelia Eliza.

Please forgive me, he asks in his silent mantra. Please protect me. Please let me get this right, for you, for me.

It’s not that bad, Lance tells himself, and that’s the important part, right?

And when he goes back to Greenwood with Hunk come the new year, and Ritzie and Yuu break into their room almost immediately, the former’s mouth running a mile a minute about all the boring socialite parties she had to attend, with the air of someone who has walked through a war zone, while Yuu patiently half-listens and shows Hunk and Lance his new video games behind Ritzie’s back, it’s not too bad either.

He’s surviving, rising on up on the way to the stars, and that’s all that matters.

#Hi i'm a piece of shit who never crossposts on time #no this isn't an update this is Old #spilling like an overflowing sink (voltron) #my writing #Voltron