#referee development

[baddawgsports]

🏆 Game-changer for Canadian soccer! Canada Soccer's new Club+ initiative is here to support community clubs nationwide. From volunteer recruitment to marketing tools - everything clubs need to grow! 🇨🇦⚽ Link in bio to register! #Club+ #CanadaSoccer #CommunityFirst

[still-july]

okay dropout NEEDS to make a card game version of spin that wheel PLEASE it would be so easy and it would go so hard

[yourreddancer]

sSoeondrtpf4c522l9fl918h5a1ug65713ugmu731utgh0hllg84l47c2lc6  · 

Elizabeth MacDonough doesn’t give fiery speeches on the Senate floor. She doesn’t pound podiums, tweet clapbacks, or beg for airtime on cable news. Most people couldn’t pick her out of a photo lineup. But this week, she did more to derail Donald Trump’s legislative fever dream than any Democrat in Congress. With nothing but a binder, a brain, and a spine forged from 230 years of procedural precedent, she calmly gutted the “Big, Beautiful Bill” — and sent the Republican Party into a frothing, incandescent rage.

Here’s the part that should terrify the GOP: she’s not even elected. She’s the Senate Parliamentarian, the nonpartisan referee responsible for interpreting the arcane rulebook that governs the world’s most dysfunctional deliberative body. She doesn’t write laws. She doesn’t vote. She doesn’t grandstand. Her job is simple: enforce the rules, no matter who’s in charge. And when Republicans tried to use reconciliation — a fast-track process meant for tweaking budgets — to shove through a far-right wishlist of land seizures, healthcare rollbacks, and anti-trans cruelty, she read the fine print and dropped the hammer.

The “Big, Beautiful Bill” was supposed to be Trump’s magnum opus: a tax-slashing, Medicaid-burning, land-devouring beast of a bill that would reshape America in his image. It included everything from selling off millions of acres of federal public land to states and private developers, to gutting Medicaid for low-income families, immigrants, and trans people, to defunding Planned Parenthood and hacking away at environmental protections like they were weeds in a billionaire’s backyard. It was grotesque. It was rushed. And it was entirely dependent on sliding past Senate rules without a fight.

Elizabeth MacDonough was the fight. She reviewed the bill’s contents and ruled — piece by piece — that major provisions violated the Byrd Rule, which bars unrelated ideological junk from hitching a ride on budget bills. The land sell-off? Not budgetary. Out. The Medicaid provider tax cap? Out. The bans on gender-affirming care, immigrant coverage, and ACA subsidies? Out. The GOP was left holding a gutted husk, their legislative trophy reduced to a few tax cuts and a pile of redacted dreams.

This wasn’t sabotage. This was MacDonough doing her job — the job she’s held since 2012, appointed under a Democratic majority, and respected by both parties until it became inconvenient. She is the Senate’s quiet guardian of process, a civil servant who doesn’t answer to polls, Super PACs, or social media mobs. Her loyalty is to the rules — even as the people around her treat those rules like a hotel minibar. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t yield. She simply reads the law and applies it, with the precision of a scalpel and the force of a freight train.

And oh, how the GOP hates her for it.

Mike Lee, who tried to shove his public lands fire sale into the bill like it was a foreclosure listing, is already scrambling to rewrite the language and sneak it back in. Trump, fuming from whatever taxpayer-funded golf course he’s currently defiling, is screaming about “deep state rule tyrants.” Senate Majority Leader John Thune is getting asked uncomfortable questions about whether it’s time to “review” the Parliamentarian’s role — a polite way of saying, “Can we fire her for being smarter than us?”

Because that’s the rub. They didn’t lose because the Democrats outmaneuvered them. They didn’t lose because of public pressure or media backlash. They lost because a woman they barely understand said, quite plainly, “You can’t do that.” And when they asked why, she handed them the rulebook. And when they tried to argue, she pointed to precedent. And when they blustered, she didn’t even blink.

Elizabeth MacDonough has no political agenda. That’s what makes her so dangerous to people who do. She exists outside their theater. She answers to no party. And yet, she is currently one of the most powerful people in Washington — not because she makes the laws, but because she refuses to let anyone break them.

So no, she didn’t kill the Big, Beautiful Bill. The GOP killed it themselves — by trying to use budget procedure as a battering ram for authoritarian fantasy. MacDonough simply told the truth. And in 2025, that might be the most radical thing anyone in government can do.

Let the Republicans rant. Let them plot her removal. Let them rewrite their monstrosities and try again. But remember this: when the bulldozers were revving, when the Medicaid cuts were inked, and when Trump’s wrecking ball of a bill was barreling toward the American people — it wasn’t a senator who stopped it. It wasn’t a protest. It was a woman with a binder and a backbone.

We see you, Elizabeth. And we thank you.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Danny has an ice core. But i don’t think that Dani had an elemental core that was mentioned in the show.

So in this prompt, Dani has an earth core. She’s getting used to using it, practicing almost daily when she’s alone.

Until one day, someone sees her.

Ra’s comes across a girl with incredible earth magic and kidnaps her, forcing her to teach his grandson Damian her magic.

Damian was only 4 to her 12, but he was liminal enough so that he could develop a core. A shadow core.

If Dani was honest, she didn’t hate her years with the LOA. Ra’s was a creep, but Talia treated and referee to her as a daughter. She knew the Leuage was bad news, but they gave her a home.

Damian was young, he didn’t understand blood relations in family. So when he saw his mother treat Dani like a daughter, he just assumed her was her sister and just never end mentioned his thoughts. After all, Mother never mentioned she before, so Damian thought he shouldn’t either.

Meeting his father only solidified his theory. Dani and Bruce look similar enough. He also never mentions another sister other than Cass.

It was only a couple years later that Damian’s magic is found out and her goes

Damian: I don’t know why you’re so surprised, your other daughter also has magic. Mother never has any so it must come from you

Everyone looks at Bruce: … your other WHAT??

Bruce: …🤨😟😣😩

Even better if Danny has already joined the JLD and meets Damian and Damian is like

Damian: 🤨🤨

[ceesimz]

Good News

Alexia gets injured, and you're left dealing with two upset children.

tw: hospital, concussion, loss of consciousness, though nothing too serious. smidge of angst, then just fluff.

One piece of advice you were given about raising two young children together was that having a tight routine for every week would make everybody’s lives so much easier. And god was it true. 

There was a whiteboard calendar on the kitchen wall, tagged by drawings from both your children that were not to be removed, otherwise there would be tears, which set out how each day would go – from meals, to appointments, training sessions for both Alexia and Anaís, work meetings, Oriol’s nursery days and Anaís’ homework due dates. It was the simplest thing, yet it brought so much efficiency and, rather unexpectedly, joy to your family’s lives. 

The marked occasion that brought the most happiness was when there was a home game set to be played for Alexia, with it being written on the board in big, squiggly letters by Anaís in red and blue pen. Going to watch her captain Barcelona whenever there was a weekend game at home was easily the most anticipated event of the week when one was on, and though you had been attending your wife’s games for many years now, nothing compared to going with your children in their matching shirts sat beside you as you watched Alexia do the thing she did best. 

Against all expectations, it wasn’t that difficult to keep Anaís and Oriol entertained throughout the whole game, the six-year-old and three-year-old both infatuated with the sight of their Mami running up and down the pitch, leading her team towards win after win. Even if Oriol didn’t have the same strong interest in football as his sister did, though he was still a toddler so there was plenty of time for that to possibly develop, he still kept a close watch on the game. Deep down, you and Alexia both recognised that it may be because of his separation anxiety and how he loved to be able to watch her through the whole thing, even when she didn’t have the ball. It didn’t matter though, because Alexia had her family all in one place as she represented the other most important thing in her life – Barça – and you were able to relax in a familiar, comfortable, and safe setting. 

However, the shouting from your football-crazy daughter wasn’t always so relaxing, as it seemed her skills weren’t the only thing she picked up from her Mami when it came to a football pitch. For your liking, there had been way too many times that she had to have a… gentle talking to from the referee during her own matches. Apparently that habit had transferred to watching Alexia’s games too, except you couldn’t help but smile at it. 

A league game against Real Betis fell in the middle of November, and the Saturday evening it was played was an especially cold one. Anaís, as always, was barely even bothered by it, her attention solely on the game in front of her. Oriol, however, wasn’t such a fan, even with a blanket around him and wrapped up in your arms on your lap. At an unfortunate moment, your attention was on him, oblivious to the events that occurred on the field.

“That is a foul! No! Vete a la mierda, árbitro!” Anaís shouted, standing from her seat and slamming her hands down on the railing in front of her. Of course, her less than appropriate language for a six-year-old instantly caught your attention. 

“Excuse me! Do not say things like that, Anaís! You are far too young to be speaking like that, if I catch you saying anything along the lines, you will not h-”

“No, Mama, look! Mami g-got hit in the head b-by the goalkeeper!” All the fighting talk had left Anaís, instead completely and utterly wracked with anxiety at the scene she had just watched.

“What?” You stood beside her, clutching a disgruntled Oriol against you rested on your hip as you casted your eyes over to the commotion Anaís gestured to.

And she was right; Alexia was lay on her back, the referee and players of both teams desperately waving the medical team over as Irene held her head steady in place and spoke reassuringly to her. In short, it was a horrifying sight for you, nevermind for two young children.

“Mami, no…” Anaís sighed anxiously, crossing her arms on the railing and resting her forehead atop them. You immediately recognised the tremble to her voice which indicated she was getting upset, understandably, so brought a hand down to rest comfortingly on her back whilst you got your bearings.

As it turned out, as the ball was crossed into the box from the corner, Alexia jumped up to header it at the same time the goalkeeper reached out with both fists to punch it out. Unfortunately, those two things didn't combine to work out well. The goalkeeper mistimed her jump and instead ended up hitting Alexia in the side of the head with a worrying amount of force.

“Qué, Mama?” Oriol pulled back from your hold a little to get a glance at your face, somehow sensing the concern about whatever had happened.

Of course your kids would turn to you in a time of need, especially at a moment like this, but in truth you had no idea what to do. What could you do? You didn't know if Alexia was okay, if she was in pain, if she was talking, or even if she was conscious. You wanted to watch to make sure she was okay, whilst also wanting to protect your children from any unwanted memories if it all went south. 

In the end, your own stomach-churning anxiety won out.

“Mami might have just hurt herself, she'll be okay but she needs to get looked at by the medics. Let's, um… stay here a little longer and see what happens, alright?” You spoke in a soft tone, desperately trying to keep the panic out of your voice for the sake of the two pairs of brown doe eyes, just like Alexia's, that stared up at you. “She'll be okay, she will.”

It was more of a sentiment for yourself rather than your kids, a plea to whoever was listening that they'd hear your words and make them true. All you could see was a crowd around the woman you loved, and very little of her apart from her still body. There was nothing you could do but watch.

“Mami, get up!” Anaís shouted at the top of her voice, ringing out into the stadium as a couple hundred heads turned in her direction.

“Shh, it’s okay, nena, it’s okay.” You soothed her gently, guiding her to sit back down beside you as Oriol began to fuss.

“Qué pasa?” Oriol whined, rubbing his eyes before straining up to get a look at the commotion on the grass.

“Venga, Ale, por favor.” You whispered under your breath, then turned to your son and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Oreo, she just needs a few minutes and she’ll be alright. We’re all okay.” 

Unfortunately, for this matchday, it was only the three of you out of Alexia’s circle that could make it to the game. That left you on your own to deal with this situation, one you never could have anticipated, even if that was naive considering how rough football could be sometimes. It took everything within you to keep composure; if you were on your own, you surely would have broken down by now. Having your children with you throughout this was as much a blessing as it was a curse. 

On the other side of the pitchside barrier, lay on the cool damp grass, Alexia blinked a couple times, coming back to herself after a brief period of unconsciousness. Immediately, as her vision began to unblur slightly, she groaned at the intensity of the stadium’s floodlights, bringing a hand up to cover her eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, no hagas eso, Ale. Quédate quieto, trata de no moverte.” Irene told her, though the words hardly registered in her ringing ears. Her head was throbbing, she felt the pain deep in her temple, and the careful chaos around her of her teammates and opposition players and physios didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mi cabeza.” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing the lump in her throat. Whether it was one of emotion or due to the nausea she had, she wasn’t sure, she couldn’t exactly think straight. “Me duele.” 

“Lo sé, pero no te muevas.” 

Not a second later, the medical team began their head injury protocol. They checked that she still had feeling in her legs, that there was no pain in her neck or spine, they did the horrible task of checking her pupil dilation which almost made her sick there and then, and a few more tests. 

The only thing you saw was the stretcher that was brought over.

“She’s not getting up!” Anaís cried into her hands, turning to hide her face in your shoulder. To make matters worse, the sounds of his sister soon had Oriol reacting in much the same way.

“Mami.” He sobbed loudly, and before you knew it, there were tears of your own burning your eyes. You willed them away though and held both of them closely, bouncing your son on your knee and quietly shushing him, whilst rubbing a hand up and down Anaís’ arm. 

“We will be able to see her soon, don’t worry. She’s okay, you’re both okay.” You were a little speechless, lost with what to say in such a moment. And with each cry that they both let out, you got more and more anxious. There was literally nothing you could do. At that realisation, your first tear fell. “We’ll… we will see her soon. We will.”

Alexia’s mind felt inexplicably foggy. But in one of the worse moments of her football career, there could only be one thing on her mind.

“No, no stretcher. Por favor, para mi familia.” It took almost all her remaining energy to get her words out, though the thought of you and her children was enough incentive for her to push through the exhaustion she felt. “Por favor.”

“Crees que podrías caminar?” One of the physios asked rather disapprovingly. Another of them was already on the radio, asking for a bed to be ready waiting for them on the sideline to wheel her down the tunnel to the exam room.

“Sí, sí.” The only reason they allowed it was because she passed the initial assessments, deciding she only had a concussion, though the severity hadn’t been decided yet. However, they knew they couldn’t persuade her to get the stretcher just in case, especially with her reasoning being her family. 

Never, in your whole life, had you felt more relieved than you did when Irene stood up from her spot by Alexia’s head, turned to scan the stands, before raising her hands to give a thumbs-up over to you. Alexia was okay.

“Look! Tía Irene says she’s okay, Mami is alright. She’s okay.” You breathed out shakily, hugging them both tighter to you as you closed your eyes and willed yourself to calm down. “Mami is safe, she’s okay.” 

“I don’t like it.” Oriol sniffled, nuzzling his face into your neck as Anaís went quiet and kept her eyes on Alexia.

“I know, I know. It’s over now though, mi hijo, everything is alright. We will go and see her as soon as we can.” You weren’t too sure about that, when you could go and see her, since it was only thirty minutes into the first half. Whether you could go down at half-time or you had to wait until the end of the game, you weren’t sure. 

“Football is scary.” Anaís muttered under her breath. You couldn’t help but smile at that, unsurprised at the statement leaving your daughter’s lips.

“It is. I’ve been watching Mami’s games since before you were born, chiqui, and I still get very scared. I get scared watching your games too.” Your best bet right now was to try and keep the pair distracted, take their minds off the whole situation.

“I don’t want to play football right now.” Anaís grimaced, shaking her head. 

As you went to reply, something along the lines of supporting her no matter what she does, her gasp cut you off. Again, you turned your attention back to the pitch and saw Alexia was now sitting up, her head still being supported with hands on either side of her face. Though it wasn’t the best thing you’d seen, in this moment it was all you needed for the larger parts of your anxiety to dissipate. You saw her lips moving as she spoke, obviously too far away to know what she was saying, but you knew that being able to hold conversation after a head injury was a sign that there was nothing bad underneath the surface. 

She had a concussion, at worst. You could deal with that. Sure, it would be a challenge, having to manage that whilst navigating how to explain such an injury to two young children, but you were just thankful she was okay.

The overwhelming relief you felt only doubled when, rather lacklusterly, Alexia was helped to her feet. She swayed as her head span, hit hard with some dizziness, the arms wrapped around her waist whilst hers were lifted over the physios’ shoulders either side of her keeping her steady. Slowly, with the applause of the stadium, she made her way off of the pitch, much to the delight of Anaís and Oriol, the latter with a small smile on his face at the sight. His adorably shy expression further eased your concern, lightening the heaviness that had settled over the three of you throughout it all.

It didn’t feel so burdening when she clambered onto the bed waiting for her, since you knew she was well enough and it was most likely precaution. In fact, you had a feeling they had told her to get on the stretcher, but she denied it. You knew her too well, but you didn’t have it in you to be mad at her for it. Not in this case, where for a few minutes you were worried if she was even awake or not.

Once she had been wheeled down the tunnel and out of view, however, you didn’t really know what to do. Your attention on the game now was miniscule, as were your children’s. You had your family pass with you, as always, though whether the rules allowed you to go down to Alexia before the match was over or not, you had no idea. With the state that Anaís and Oriol were in, it was only a matter of time before they got antsy and stressed about their Mami again. The relief that she was somewhat okay would only last so long.

Fortunately for you, you didn’t have to figure out a plan of what to do. Hardly any time passed between Alexia being taken off the pitch and your phone ringing, her number at the other end.

“Hello? Ale?” You answered desperately, noticing the way Anaís and Oriol’s faces lit up with hope at the mention of the brunette’s nickname.

You should have expected it, but it wasn’t Alexia who answered, it was one of the Barcelona staff. Obviously Alexia wouldn’t be able to use her phone, especially so soon after, though your disappointment barely had any time to sit and fester when you were told you could go down and see her. You barely got two words out to your children before the eldest was up and out of her seat, looking around frantically as she tried to figure out where to go to get to her Mami.

Thankfully there was someone there to take you, guiding you through the eerily quiet stadium corridors as the game carried on, two tiny hands holding tightly onto your own. It was during this brief respite, as you let the member of staff lead you to your wife, where the reality sunk in of just how tight-knit your little family was. The smile that grew on your face at thought, a silent but overwhelming feeling of love settling in your chest, and it only intensified when you looked down at the children, your children, beside you and realised how caring and thoughtful they were growing to be. Not only that, but those aforementioned traits were a testament to what an incredible parent Alexia was. They idolised her, and it was more than you could have dreamed of when it came to being a mother. Alexia was more than you could have dreamed of as a co-parent. There was no one else in the world you could do it with. 

“She is just in there.” The staff member said, gesturing to the door just ahead of you. 

Anaís and Oriol went to rush towards it, but you stopped them gently.

“Mírame y escucha.” You said quietly, crouching down before them. They nodded and gave you their full attention, Anaís even wrapping an arm around Oriol’s shoulders, a sweet gesture that made you smile. “When we go in, we have to be very, very quiet. Mami hurt her head, any loud noises will make it hurt even more. You can hug her but you must be gentle, she will probably be in a lot of pain and we really don’t want to make it worse, alright?”

Again, they nodded, Oriol growing a little timid as his bottom lip jutted out. You smiled sadly at him and scooped him up, before nodding at Anaís for her to open the door. The young girl knocked on lightly, just as you instructed, then opened it and stepped inside.

To no one’s surprise, the room was mostly dark, save for one lamp by the desk in the corner of the room. There was just enough light to be able to see, whilst keeping it dim enough to prevent any extra harm for the midfielder that lay on the bed, her hands linked together over her eyes. At the sound of the door, she lifted one up so that she could peek out with one eye, and she gave a quiet sigh of relief at the sight of her family entering the room.

“Hola, Mami.” Anaís whispered, and Alexia responded with a small wave. Oriol was more reserved, instead sticking by your side and hiding behind your leg slightly when you put him down. Not because he was scared of Alexia or anything like that, it was simply because he was worried. And it warmed your heart.

“Come on, Oreo, you can go give her a hug.” You told him. He hesitated slightly, but once he saw Anaís head over, he followed suit. 

“Tas bien?” Anaís asked, standing beside her bed and looking at Alexia with wide eyes. Even in her depleted state, Alexia could see clearly then just how much of a mirror image her daughter was of herself. It made her smile, despite it all.

“Sí, bien. Head hurts a tiny bit.” The midfielder pinched her finger and her thumb together, and she felt the weight of the day lessen at the sound of the young girl laughing at the gesture.

“That was scary.” Anaís mumbled afterwards, a frown on her face. Alexia’s chest tightened, knowing how terrifying the scene must have been for the three of you, and she couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“Lo sé, princesa. Lo siento.” 

You heard the apology from her and went over then. Her voice was tainted with guilt and you couldn’t bear to hear it, she was involved in a horrible injury and had the audacity to apologise.

“No, Ale, don’t apologise.” You said, resting a hand on her knee and stroking the goose-pimpled skin there. “We’re really glad you’re okay. Please don’t apologise. Just rest.” 

Alexia had experienced first hand what happened when she didn’t listen to your advice… receiving a lecture from you was the last thing she wanted then. Plus, she was so completely exhausted, she could barely string a thought together. So she lay back, flashing you a small smile as that was all she had the energy to muster, and let out a deep breath.

“Mami?” The sound of Oriol’s quiet, slightly trembling tone near enough broke Alexia’s heart. 

“Sí, chiquito, ven aquí.” You saw her grimace and gulp as she shifted up the bed a little and waved her son over. She was pushing her limits just so she could comfort her children.

“Take it easy, you.” You warned her warmly, watching as she tentatively cupped Oriol’s cheek and smiled down at him.

“I’m okay, Oriol, I promise. I promise.” She stated. He nodded after a moment and smiled back. “I love you. All of you, so much.”

“We love you so much too, Mami.” Anaís replied in an instant. Alexia looked up at you after she said it, the emotion in her eyes conveying just how much this moment meant to her. 

That you were all there for her, straight away, when she needed it the most, it made everything that bit easier.

And despite it not being the most convenient thing in the world, you and your children went with Alexia to the hospital for further checks, as the team had decided just to be sure. A head injury was obviously something not to be taken lightly, hence the visit. Before you left though, you made sure she was comfortable; swapping her boots for some sliders, removing her shin pads, and helping her put on the hoodie she wore to the stadium. She was still in her kit, which wasn’t ideal, but the main focus was getting her to the hospital. You would take care of her when she got home. 

As expected, all of Alexia’s movements were slow and lethargic, and the car ride was nothing short of torture for her. Each bump, every press of the brakes, felt like someone was knocking directly on her skull, heightening all the aches and pains she already harboured. Thankfully, there was a nurse waiting at the entrance thanks to the club calling ahead, a wheelchair for Alexia so she didn’t exert herself any harder. 

She had a head scan and the four of you waited in the waiting room for the results. With the hood of her jumper up and sunglasses seated on her nose, she had an arm wrapped around Anaís’ shoulders where the young girl sat to her left, and a hand rubbed up and down Oriol’s back as he sat on her lap. Her eyes were closed, you could see from her right side, and she had her head resting back against the wall behind her. The picture in front of you was one of love, one that perfectly summed up your family. Alexia was your rock, Anaís’ rock, Oriol’s rock, it was so clear to see. 

As cliche as it was, you fell harder and harder for Alexia everyday. Especially at times like this, where the beauty of her character shone through the darkest moments. 

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long and soon she received the all-clear from the doctors, telling her there was definitely nothing concerning under the surface and that she did indeed have a concussion. With the instruction to rest for the foreseeable future, no screen time, and as much peace, quiet, and darkness as possible, you were all sent back home. 

Two emotionally exhausted children trudged their way upstairs, it now being past the time they should be asleep, as they went to brush their teeth together and change whilst you led Alexia to the kitchen. You kept the lights off, only switching on smaller, less intense ones like lamps or the under-cupboard LEDs in the kitchen, and the brunette leaned back against the counter as you searched for some painkillers she could have. The doctor gave you a list of the ones she was safe to have within the first twenty-four hours of the injury, and when you found some that were suitable, you popped two out of the packet and got her a glass of water.

You watched as she took the tablets with ease and finished off the drink before placing it down beside her with a sigh. She looked at you afterwards, noting the sad smile on your face, and tugged your shirt to pull you closer into a hug.

“You okay?” She asked, at which you scoffed and shook your head when you leaned back in her arms.

“Forget about me. I’m not the one that just went to hospital for a head scan.” You teased lightly, glad to see the slither of a smile that appeared. “It was scary, but all that is forgotten now we’re here. Anaís and Oriol are probably still a bit shook up. All they need is to see you’re okay, which they have, and for you to get better, then they’ll forget about it. Don’t worry about us, I’ll take care of everything. All we need you to do is focus on getting better.”

“Thank you.” You pressed a soft kiss to her cheek then and hugged her once more, glad to have her back in your arms and in one piece. Whilst embracing her, you slipped your hands under her hoodie and shirt, where you felt just how ice cold her skin was.

“Ale, you’re freezing.” You frowned.

“Lo sé. I will have a shower.” She muttered, every word coming from her mouth ladened with tiredness.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want you falling if you get dizzy.” You said, and she made a reluctant noise of agreement. “How about you have a bath? It might help you to relax.”

There was a minute nod against your shoulder which was all the confirmation you needed. 

Alexia led you both up the stairs, mainly because you were worried she would lose her balance, and headed in the direction of Anaís’ room whilst you went to your ensuite to run her a bath. The Barcelona captain walked into her daughter’s room and found her in bed, under the covers, with her brother beside her. They were flicking through one of their favourite books, only looking at the photos since they couldn't read on their own yet, and really it was an adorable sight. However, upon Alexia entering the room, they swiftly lost interest in the story in front of them.

“Dulces sueños, mis amores.” Alexia said to them softly, sitting on the edge of the small bed and holding her arms out.

Carefully, the pair scrambled to hug their Mami, each one sitting either side of her and wrapping their little arms around her torso. They were gentle in their movements, ensuring they didn't cause Alexia anymore pain, and it was the perfect remedy for their concern. 

Their Mami was at home, not quite happy but definitely content and healthy, and sandwiched in a hug that was more than just a wish goodnight. It put the earth back on its tilt and sent it spinning again, it hung the stars and the moon back in the sky with the silver light from the latter creeping in through the gap in the curtains and providing an extra layer of serenity to an already priceless moment. All was right in the world again, the only thing missing was the bright, joyful energy of a certain blonde midfielder. It had been dimmed temporarily with this new injury, but her kids were wise enough, even at their young ages, to know it'd be back soon. 

That's the joy of parenthood: the result of two tiny humans spending so much time with you and Alexia was that your personality traits unknowingly passed down to them. What they saw, they could be. The love, care, and admiration they witnessed between their parents and the happiness that consequently spread through their home was more than enough motivation for them to try it out for themselves. And in their every action, they mirror the love and the lessons you’ve given them, a reflection so pure and beautiful that it winded you sometimes. You were both so proud of the people they were becoming, and Alexia frequently reminded you that it was all down to the way you parented them. Each day you saw their sleepy faces in the morning and tucked them into bed at night, there was always a sense of disbelief present. You felt so much pride towards them, you couldn’t believe they were your children. You promised yourself to never take your time with them for granted.

You came in not long after, guilty that you had to split the three of them up but insistent to keep a stable routine, especially given the difficult day that had been had. Anaís and Oriol held onto Alexia for a minute or two longer and you let them, knowing that each of them needed it more than they could ever describe. The woman you loved turned to kiss their foreheads and squeezed them tighter briefly, before Anaís pulled away and got back under her duvet, her favourite teddy in her hand. You took your turn in wishing her goodnight, telling her you’d come back to check on her in a little while, and then scooped Oriol up into your arms. He rested his chin on your shoulder, snuggled comfortably into you, whilst Alexia murmured quietly to her daughter and ensured there was a smile on the six-year-old’s face before she left the room. 

Alexia trailed behind you as you walked out, admiring the view of her son in your arms with his eyelids already drooping as she closed the door quietly. He had dressed himself into a pair of Barcelona pyjamas, except his shirt was on back to front, and Alexia smiled at that. His independence was fastly building, especially with the help of his sister who taught him everything he knew, the pair of them forever glued to each other’s side, but it was the tiny details like putting on his shirt wrong that was an adorable representation of his age. He was still so young, and Alexia worked so hard to keep herself in the present rather than dreading the future where they’re grown up, so no matter how odd it seemed that she treasured these miniscule things, she really didn’t care. To her, it didn’t matter if Oriol or Anaís decided to wear their clothes inside out, socks on their hands, and shoes on the wrong feet, they would still be perfect in her eyes. 

So with that in mind, she placed another kiss on her son’s cheek and ran a gentle hand through his brown hair, her heart doubling in size at the dozy smile he responded with. Understandably, the day had tired him out more so than anyone else, and near enough the second you lay him down on his bed, he drifted off to sleep. Without disturbing him, you covered him with his blanket and whispered that you loved him, smiling at the quiet noises he let out. For a moment or two, you lingered, gazing as he slept and admiring how peaceful he finally looked. His lips were parted slightly, small breaths sounding through the otherwise silent room. Alexia slipped her hand into yours and squeezed it once; it was then, now that your kids were calm and safe in bed, that you let the weight of the day settle over you. 

It was a delayed response of course, but your parental instincts took over earlier, something you were grateful for because you knew how your reaction earlier would impact them depending on if you kept your cool or not. All you could do now was try not to dwell on how awful it had been to see Alexia in that state earlier, and instead concentrate on the feel of her hand in yours and her steady presence unwavering beside you.

“Venga, mi amor.” She hummed, almost silently. You nodded and let her lead the way out of your son’s room, walking you both back to your bedroom where her bath was soon to be ready in the ensuite.

Not so long later, Alexia was unwinding in the hot water with her head resting back against your shoulder. You were sat behind her, not in the bath, but rather on the step-stool that belonged to your children when they decided they wanted to brush their teeth with you and Alexia. Carefully, you had tied her hair into a loose plait, choosing to wash it another day when her head wasn’t quite so tender and throbbing with pain. She seemed calm as your fingers gently traced mindless patterns on each arm of hers that rested on the edge of the tub. The room was pitch black and peaceful, no words being shared and despite the ache of your back in your current position, you couldn’t picture a better way to end such a traumatic day. 

Though you were reluctant to do so, there were just a few things you wanted to get off your chest.

“I’m proud of you, Ale. I hope you know that.” Your voice was so low, she wouldn’t have heard you if it wasn’t right beside her ear. She made a noise of confusion, caught off-guard by the sudden sentiment. “You were in so much pain today, it was such an awful experience for you, and you still were the best parent I could ask to have by my side.” 

One of her hands moved from its place and took hold of yours, bringing it to her lips to kiss your palm.

“Always.” She replied, mere minutes away from succumbing to the exhaustion that had overtaken her.

“But please, all I ask of you throughout this is that you take this injury so seriously, okay? More serious than any other injury you’ve had. Let me help, don’t be stubborn, and rest.” 

“Sí, I will.”

“Promise me that, Ale.” You demanded, though the fear and concern seeped through your tone clearly enough for Alexia to understand the importance of her next words.

“I promise.” The taller woman felt the tension leave your body after she spoke, goosebumps rising on her skin with the relieved sigh you let out. “Gracias por todo.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You cautiously wrapped your arms around her, crossing them over her chest, and turned to kiss her jaw. “I love you. I was so scared earlier. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The admission felt even more sacred given the darkness of the room. Even if your voice was hardly intelligible outside the bubble of intimacy that had formed between you both, Alexia heard every word and cherished them deeply.

“Do not worry about that. I’m here, m’not going anywhere. Not without you.” Hearing her say those things provoked your emotions, the heavy combination that had collected throughout the day reaching its peak. Tears quickly formed in your eyes, and Alexia frowned at the sniffles that echoed off the tiled walls of the room. “I love you, mi amor. I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Please never do that to me again.” You cried quietly, leaning back a little and ducking your head down to muffle your cries in her shoulder. Alexia sat up and turned then, not caring about the way it sent her head spinning once more, and reached out for you. It was awkward, but you buried your head in her neck and let her hold you, wrapping your own arms around her body without a care in the world for the water dripping off her skin. “I can’t take it Ale, I can’t.”

The only thing she could do was hope that her embrace was enough to quell your anxieties, because your tears were rubbing off on her and she couldn’t quite find the words to comfort you. What happened earlier had terrified her too, worried that the head injury was serious enough to have impacts on her life and consequently her family, though thankfully that turned out not to be the case. Still, that terror remained, subtly simmering in the background and waiting for its moment to boil over, which was quite obviously this moment here.

It was a day to forget, that much was true. Yet, the silver linings from it were something not to be forgotten anytime soon. 

Not that you or Alexia would hope for anything of the sorts or similar to happen again ever, there had been glimpses into your children’s souls and how wonderful they were turning out to be. They showed qualities you only could have ever dreamed of for them to have, and they only proved those things further during Alexia’s recovery. Anaís was adamant that she wouldn’t return to football until Alexia did, both out of solidarity and of understandable fear. Oriol donated his favourite teddy to keep Alexia company through the days she spent in bed, and was constantly asking if she needed a magic hug to make her feel better. That was yet another habit that he had picked up for the pair of you, and whilst the ‘magic’ description was something thought to be made up, Alexia couldn’t deny that there was some truth in the name after receiving one from him.

People had told you, since you were young, that it was important for family to stick together. You hadn’t realised how true that piece of advice was until you had children of your own, but it might be the biggest understatement of the century. Having your children in your arms and the love of your life by your side was all you could ever need to get through just about anything life threw your way.

[hrtwayne]

Five Centimeters per Second || Salma Paralluelo

Pairing: Salma Paralluelo x Russo!Reader 

Summary: Where Alessia Russo’s younger sister gets transferred to Barcelona, but Salma never expected to develop feelings for her. 

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: None!

Woso Masterlist

Wolfsburg was never the kind of city that appeared on postcards. Small, cold, with orderly streets and a frequently overcast sky, it carried an almost industrial air—largely due to the presence of Volkswagen, which seemed to pulse at the heart of the city. For many, Wolfsburg was just a place of work, of predictable routines and quiet days. For others, it was a safe harbor, a calm space away from the pressures of big cities. Some called it boring, but for those who knew how to look with affection, Wolfsburg offered something rare: a quiet sense of belonging. 

The fans of VfL Wolfsburg lived for the team with intensity. They weren’t the loudest or the most famous, but they were loyal. The city breathed football in silence, like someone guarding a treasure without needing to show it off. On match days, the streets near the stadium came alive. It was there that you had found one of your homes—within the four lines of the pitch, wearing green with pride for nearly three years. Seen as a model captain, with few yellow cards and only one red, earned for arguing with a biased referee. 

For you, Wolfsburg was more than a city—it was a feeling. When you first arrived, everything was new and a little cold, different from what you’d known in London. But little by little, the corner cafés, the intense training sessions, the locker-room friendships, and the solitary walks along the Mittellandkanal etched an unexpected affection into you. Wolfsburg had embraced you when you were still trying to prove yourself, when everyone doubted you—when even you did. 

You fell in love with the dedication of the fans, the way children recognized you on the streets with stars in their eyes, and the respect you felt within the club. It was hard to explain: Wolfsburg wasn’t the most beautiful place, but in a way, it was comfortable. Like an old coat that still kept you warm. 

And maybe that was what made the goodbye even more bittersweet. 

The invitation to play for Barça Femení was a dream you hadn’t dared imagine years ago. It was a rare opportunity, a chance to grow, a whole new world to explore. And yet, the joy carried a trace of melancholy. Wolfsburg wasn’t just a place where you had played—it was where you had grown. It was where you had become you. 

In your last week before the move, you walked through the city with different eyes. Everything seemed more alive, more important, as if the details were begging to be memorized: the bikes leaning against the squares, the smell of bakeries in the morning, the sound of autumn leaves being swept away. 

You felt gratitude. You felt pride. But you also felt the weight of leaving something behind. Wolfsburg would always be part of your story. 

[⚽️]

You knew your first days in Barcelona would be hard. You had prepared for that. It wasn’t just about the language or cultural differences—after all, you’d faced similar challenges when you left London for Germany. What really made you nervous was everything at once: a new country, a warmer and more vibrant climate than Wolfsburg’s cold rigidity, and, most of all, the need to meet and connect with new people. 

This was Barcelona. Barça Femení. The club where some of your biggest inspirations played—names you had admired since the start of your career, like Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmatí. The idea of sharing the pitch with them seemed surreal—and, in a way, terrifying. As if, suddenly, you were no longer just a distant fan but part of the universe that had once felt unreachable. 

For someone as reserved as you, forming bonds was already a challenge. 

Surprisingly, the first steps were lighter than you expected. Settling into the training center, you ended up bonding with some of the younger players—girls who, to your shock, saw you as a role model, an inspiration. And that scared you more than any tactical adjustment. You, an inspiration? You, who still carried so many insecurities? Players this talented shouldn’t be looking up to you, you thought. 

Over time, slowly and carefully, you built friendships in the locker room. Some took longer, as expected, but little by little, you began to feel part of that vibrant group. There was connection. There was affection. There was trust. 

There was just one thing you didn’t notice as clearly: someone was watching you with more than just friendship in mind. 

Salma Paralluelo had been fascinated by you since the first training session. Vicky and Esmee, always observant, quickly caught onto the way the Spaniard looked at you and wasted no time teasing her: "That’s not just admiration, Salma." To them, it was obvious—the forward had developed a crush. Something that, at first, Salma herself thought was just a phase, a fleeting admiration. But as months passed, she began to realize it wasn’t that simple. 

What bothered her most was the mystery around you. No one knew if you were seeing someone, if you were in a relationship, if there was someone waiting for you in another country. Your guarded nature kept you protected—but it also stirred unease in her. 

What Salma didn’t know was that you had been silently carrying a crush on her since that epic match nearly three years ago, when you faced each other for the first time in the Champions League. 

Your closeness grew naturally, and even though Salma tried to control her feelings, there were moments when jealousy slipped through—especially when Jana shamelessly flirted with you just to mess with her. 

Like that night. 

It was supposed to be a quiet evening—movies, popcorn, the girls sprawled across your apartment. Jana was lounging on the couch, her legs casually draped over your lap, while you grumbled about having to face your sister Alessia in the Champions League final. 

"You’re so spoiled," you complained, pushing her legs off. 

"Then you should’ve thought twice before getting comfortable with me, Russo," Jana shot back with a smirk, before a pillow smacked her in the face. 

You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen to refill your water glass, oblivious to the watchful gaze following you. When you turned around, you found Salma standing there, expression unreadable, a faint weariness in her eyes. 

"Hey, you okay?" you asked, genuine concern in your voice. "You look a little off. If you want, you can sleep in my room—no problem. I’ll share the guest bed with someone else."

Salma’s stomach twisted. That was exactly what bothered her: the thought of you sharing a bed with someone else—when what she desperately wanted was to be in that spot herself. 

"Just a headache," she lied, avoiding direct eye contact. "Maybe from the sun during training." 

"Sun? It wasn’t even that hot today," you countered, suspicious. You stepped closer, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You sure that’s all it is?"

Salma held her breath. The proximity, the light touch, the tenderness in your voice—it was hard to stay composed. She blinked, forcing herself to focus on your eyes and not your lips. 

"You’re actually warm, sweetheart,"you murmured, a small smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. "Sure it’s not something… more serious?"

Salma stepped back, needing space to breathe, but you seemed determined to uncover the truth. 

"Salma, talk to me," you insisted, still smiling, but with a gaze that pierced through her defenses. "As cute as it is seeing you flustered, I want to make sure you’re okay." 

Then, Salma decided she’d have her fifteen seconds of courage. She needed to silence you—just for a moment, she needed your words to stop. 

She took two firm steps forward, grabbed the collar of your jacket, and pulled you into a kiss—clumsy, urgent, brimming with months of pent-up nerves and desire. You froze for a second before tangling your fingers in her braids, deepening the kiss and drawing a soft gasp from her. 

When you finally pulled apart, your hand still cradled her face gently. 

"So that’s what it was? Jealousy, sweetheart?" you whispered, brushing your lips against her cheek. "You know I see Jana like a little sister, right?"

Embarrassed, Salma buried her face in your shoulder, trying to hide her burning cheeks. 

You smiled, running your fingers tenderly through her dark hair. Maybe you still couldn’t put everything into words, but deep down, you both knew: this wasn’t just a passing crush. 

It was the beginning of something neither of you was ready for—but both of you wanted to live. 

[p0orbaby]

https://www.tumblr.com/p0orbaby/781994711723524096/hi-may-i-request-a-cute-short-blurb-of-alexia?source=share

Hello , if I can continue from this request , like the reader wanting a specific craving and she would not relent or talk to alexia until she gets that food and the food she is talking about is in another country special dish and alexia is like 😥 how am I going to get the food.....

Thank you

this is basically a crack fic but i think it’s funny so you’re welcome in advance

-

You tell her you’re not speaking to her until you get it.

“No negotiations,” you say, arms crossed, forehead pressed against the cool kitchen counter like you’re mourning something.

Alexia stands there, mouth slightly open, holding a half-peeled clementine in one hand, looking absolutely, pathetically confused.

“You are serious,” she says, tone caught between amusement and actual, rising concern.

You lift your head just enough to glare at her. “Dead serious. I want it. And until then, don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me.”

She puts the clementine down carefully, like it’s become explosive. “But—I don’t understand. What is it?”

You turn your face away dramatically. If you had the energy, you would have fainted.

“Spotted dick,” you mutter.

She leans forward slightly, like she’s misheard. “A what?”

You sigh, wounded. “Spotted dick.”

She blinks. Long and slow. Like maybe if she does it hard enough, this moment will erase itself from history.

“That is…” she starts carefully, “a sex thing?”

You sit up, full of English disgust. “It’s pudding, Alexia. It’s food.”

Her face twists, confused and deeply suspicious. “Pudding like… dessert? Or pudding like… English people say pudding but mean any food?”

You gesture dramatically with one hand. “Proper pudding. Sponge. Raisins. You drown it in custard.”

She stares at you in naked horror. “You want… sponge. With raisins.”

You nod, solemn. “A cultural delicacy.”

Alexia presses two fingers to her temple like she’s developing a migraine. “And you want this… now?”

“I wanted it twenty minutes ago but someone,” you shoot a vicious look at her, “won’t help.”

She runs a hand through her hair, visibly calculating whether this is a joke or an actual, genuine crisis. She chooses correctly. You see the exact second her soul leaves her body.

“Here—I can order cake?” she says helplessly. “You like cheesecake?”

You stare at her as if she’s just suggested you eat actual poison.

“You can’t just shove cheesecake at me and call it spotted dick, Alexia. There are rules.”

She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Madre de Dios,” she mutters.

You turn back to the counter, dramatic, impenetrable, the picture of quiet English martyrdom.

“I’m not saying another word until I get it,” you say solemnly.

There’s a long pause.

Then a heavy sigh.

“Where,” she says, in the strained, patient voice she uses when speaking to referees she wants to punch, “does someone find this… spotted dick?”

“In England,” you say sweetly. “Where God intended.”

Another long, aching silence.

You hear her pull out her phone, muttering in rapid Catalan you don’t need to translate. She’s already searching. You know because you hear the furious little taps of her thumb on the screen.

You sneak a glance at her.

She’s frowning hard, lips pursed, scrolling through TripAdvisor with the grim determination of a woman who’s fought through torn ligaments crazy federations.

“This place says ‘authentic English food experience’,” she reads aloud slowly. “It is in…” she squints, “Sitges.”

“Sitges?” you say, outraged. “That’s a forty-minute drive.”

She looks at you over the phone, arch. “You want your dick or no?”

You narrow your eyes, deeply offended. “Spotted dick.”

Alexia smiles, slow and devastating, like a wolf scenting blood. “Same thing, no?”

You slam your forehead dramatically back onto the counter.

There’s a long beat of silence before she snorts—quick and involuntary—and you hear the unmistakable sound of her keys hitting the counter.

“Fine,” she says. “But i’m not speaking the whole drive.”

She shrugs, already halfway to the door. “Menos mal.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

concepts related to different professions

Businessperson

abettor, adjutant, adviser/advisor, aid/aide, announcer, apprentice, archaeologist, assistant, auditor, authority, baker, barber, broker, businessperson, buyer, caretaker, cartoonist, chair, chef, client, colleague, conservator, consumer, correspondent, court, creator, curator, customer, dabbler, desk jockey, developer, drudge, employee, envoy, espionage, explorer, fellow, flier, flyer, fortuneteller, freshman, go-between, gourmet, guard, guru, hacker, hand, hawker, helper, hooker, inferior, informant or informer, inspector, interviewer, investigator, janitor, labor, liaison, messenger, moderator, monitor, navigator, newsman/woman, page, patron, picket, pioneer, poet, practitioner, prodigal, protégé, referee, representative, reviewer, rival, sailor, scout, seaman/woman, seller, shopper, speaker, spokesperson, spy, subordinate, tailor, traveler, virtuoso, wayfarer, writer

Educator

academic, adviser/advisor, alumnus/alumna, coach, conductor, disciplinarian, faculty, freshman, graduate, intellectual, learner, martinet, mastermind, monitor, practitioner, professor, rookie, savant, school, swami, trainer

Entertainer

acrobat, actress, aficionado, ballet dancer, character, comic, creator, director, fan, groupie, hero/heroine, humorist, inventor, luminary, magician, name, participant, personage/personality, player, protagonist, star, troubadour, virtuoso, zany

Financier

accountant, bean counter, broker, investor, spendthrift

Government officer

administrator, ambassador, authoritarian, autocracy, bureaucrat, consul, delegate, despot, diplomat, emir, empress, establishment, exile, fascist, figurehead, front runner, informant/informer, intermediary, leader, liaison, magistrate, master, mogul, mouthpiece, officer, oppressor, pacifist, patrol, personage/personality, police/police officer, prime minister, representative, snitch, spokesperson, tyrant, weasel

Legal practitioner

attorney, beneficiary, counsel, heir, judge, lawyer, officer, proponent, witness

Media person

commentator, journalist, newsman/woman, reporter, writer

Medical practitioner

analyst, druggist, nurse, patient, physician, researcher, therapist

Military person

combatant, conqueror, fighter, gladiator, lookout, militant, patrol, recruit, scout, seaman/woman, truant, warmonger, warrior

Politician

advocate, anarchist, apostle, arbitrator, conservative, dissident, extremist, firebrand, idealist, militant, mouthpiece, nonconformist, patron, picket, proponent, reactionary, sectarian

Religious person

acolyte, angel, atheist, chaplain, conformist, creator, deacon, doubter, dreamer, evangelism, father, genie, inventor, loner, minister, monk, pagan, pastor, priest, saint, skeptic, visionary, witch, wizard

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

TWST OC Questions

I am supposed to be working on a req I got about a month ago OTL but I need uh. serotonin from something in the meantime LMAO (it is more than half way finished, dear requester, if you see this) ANYWAYS

Obviously, if you want to ask a question that's under one category but for an OC that doesn't fit under that category, you can <3 its more what that dorm inspired me to ask about

------------------------------------------------------------

RAMSHACKLE

Does your OC have magic? Do they develop it over time? Do they overblot? If they don't, do they ever reach a snapping point?

Does your OC follow the canon timeline? If not, how have you adapted their story?

Is your OC shipped with anyone? If so, who? What's their dynamic like?

Is your OC homesick? What are they willing to do to get back? How 'on' Crowley's ass are they? If not, why don't they want to go home? Do they have an issue with Crowley anyways? Have they considered/do they care about what happens to Grim if they were to leave?

How does your OC customize Ramshackle, if they do at all? How do they cope with the state it's in when they first arrive?

Is there anyone your OC sees as family?

How does your OC feel about magic in general?

What chapter does your OC experience the most character growth, if any?

What is YOUR favourite character's impression of your OC when they first meet?

What would your OC say their greatest strengths/flaws are? Do you agree with them?

Are there any characters your OC absolutely does not get along with?

How many times do you think your OC ends up in the infirmary? Besides canon, can you tell us about a time they've gone in?

Which housewarden does your OC clash with the most? Who do they relate to the most, if any?

What are some mannerisms your OC has picked up from the people around them? (be it other (people's) OCs or Canon Characters)

What's their relationship like with the ghosts? With Grim?

What class do they dread the most? Why?

Has your OC ever been sent to Crowley's office for their (mis)conduct in class/on school grounds?

Is there someone who scares them? Why? Do they ever work through it?

What's your OC's best memory since coming to NRC?

Do they work for Crowley? Or do they find another job bc FUck the bird?

HEARTSLAYBUL

Have they ever gotten collared by Riddle? For what? How long? How often does it happen?

Do they think they could be a better housewarden? What makes them think that?

What's the chore unique to Heartslaybul that they look least forward to? What's their favourite? (tending the flamingoes/hedgehogs, organizing the Unbirthday parties, painting the roses, etc. etc.)

How many rules have they memorized? How many do they actually follow?

If it was their turn to take care of the dormouse, how would they do it? What flavour jam would they spread on its nose at the Unbirthday party?

What's the worst thing they've gotten away with? What's something they do exclusively in the rose maze in hopes nobody finds out, if anything?

Who are they more likely to go to if they have an issue that needs to be addressed? (Riddle, Trey, or, pushing an HC here, former housewarden Cay-Cay?)

How clumsy are they? Does the unique furniture and layout of Heartslaybul ever throw them off? (Do you HC the dorm the same way I do?) Have they adjusted to it?

If Riddle offered to tutor your oc, would they take him up on the offer? If not, how do they normally study/prepare for tests?

What's your OCs favourite flower? Would it be realistic for them to grow it in their room/on the dorm somewhere?

SAVANNACLAW

Where do they consider themselves in the alleged 'hierarchy'? Is this accurate?

What sport do they specialize in? If they don't play, what club are they in? Or do they ever play referee?

Does your OC ever get into physical altercations? How do they usually play out?

Does your OC respect Leona? Do they want him to do anything differently? Does Leona know your OC? Does he respect them?

Does your OC have beef with someone outside of the dorm? Is it reasonable in your opinion? Is the other character aware?

How does your OC feel about all the dirt/heat in Savannaclaw? Have they ever considered transferring dorms just to get away from it?

How protective of their food are they? Is there a reason why, besides instinct/hunger? Or are they more likely to share food?

(assuming your OC is a beastman) What's something that makes them easy to read? (eg. tail wagging, ear wiggles, fur standing on end, etc. etc.) and do they wish they could change it? Are they sensitive to the paranormal?

Was there any alterations made to their ceremonial robes? Did someone have to help them put it on?

What do they think of Ruggie and his workload? Do they consider it fair? Are they jealous of how close he is with Leona?

OCTAVINELLE

Do they work at the Mostro Lounge? If so, what position? Was it by choice? Do they enjoy it? What's their biggest customer pet peeve/most ridiculous request they've seen/heard?

Have they ever made a contract with Azul? How did it go?

Can they be trusted in the kitchen? What's their favourite food?

Are they intimidated by the tweels? How did their first meeting go? Have they ever had the opportunity to put them in their places?

Do they like being under the water all the time in their dorm? And if they're a mer, do they go home for the winter holidays or no?

Does your OC enjoy wearing the funky dorm socks....not the uniform, just the socks, or do they try to cover them up like Jade?

Has your OC ever been blackmailed? Or do they do the blackmailing? What about your OC fits the nefarious energy the canon characters give off? Or are they meant to balance them out?

Did they know about the plan to make Ramshackle a second Mostro Lounge location? How did they feel about it? If they didn't know, how did they react afterwards?

Does your OC play any instruments? Does Azul know that they play? Can your OC sing?....Do you agree with your OC's opinion of their ability to sing?

Is your OC claustrophobic? Or do they enjoy small spaces?

SCARABIA

How do they feel about Kalim's parties? Do they ever help with set up/take down?

How do they feel about Jamil? His workload? Do they think what he did to Kalim was just/did they agree that change was needed in the dorm?

How do they handle the sand?

Has your OC ever stolen anything from Kalim's rooms of treasure?

What's something your OC does want to change in the dorm?

If they participate in Kalim's parties, what's their favourite part?

What's your OCs favourite way to stay hydrated in the sweltering heat of the dorm?

How did your OC feel about the whole hostage situation with the random magicless person from Ramshackle?

How did your OC fare on the treks hypnotized Kalim took them on?

If electing dorm leaders was a possibility, who would they choose and why? (if it's themselves, bonus points if you show a campaign poster or tell me about it or something LMAO)

POMEFIORE

What's their favourite type of poison?

What DnD class would your OC be? (I ask this bc I feel like. Pomefiore has the most diversity in that aspect than any other dorm)

Has Vil ever personally given your OC a makeover/pep talk about their appearance? How did it go?

What's a scent you associate with your OC?

What's your OC's aesthetic outside of school affiliated clothing?

How well does your OC know makeup?

Is your OC starstruck by Vil? Are they jealous of him? Are they in film studies club? (Aka, what is their dynamic with Vil?)

Between Vil and Neige, who did they vote for at the VDC?

Does your OC have issues with the way food is monitored in Pomefiore? Do they ever confront Vil about it? Do they have stashes of food anywhere?

What's your OC's biggest insecurity, physically and personality wise?

IGNIHYDE

Is your OC an introvert, or just selectively social? Or are they extroverted?

What is the project/invention they are most proud of?

What's a hidden talent they have?

What's a hobby they enjoy doing alone? What's a hobby they enjoy doing with other people? If it's gaming, what type of games do they enjoy most?

How competitive is your OC? How easy is it to rile them up?

Is there anything your OC would infodump about? How do you get them to share? Do they ever get insecure about their rambling?

Do they want to apprentice somewhere like S.T.Y.X/for the Jupiter Conglomerate? What's their dream career? Do they ever try to impress Idia hoping to get their foot in the door?

Does your OC ever find out what Idia's (canon) UM is? If not, do they have a theory on what it might be? What is it?

How did your OC react to Ortho returning to school in Chapter 6 (trying to avoid spoilers sjkfklsjdfh)

What's your OC's favourite piece of media/what would be the equivalent of their favourite media in our world?

DIASOMNIA

What's your OC's favourite type of music? Is there anybody they listen to music with? (Jamming out to Canon in D with Malleus amirite OTL /j)

Are they scared of Malleus/the power he has?

Has Lilia ever pranked them? How did it go? Did they get him back?

Have they ever tasted Lilia's cooking. Did. Did they like it?

What's a magic skill your OC specializes in?

What's a "traditional" or old fashioned hobby your OC has? (Calligraphy, fencing, leatherwork, etc, etc.) How did they pick it up?

If your OC is fae/has a prolonged life span, did they participate in the same life events as Lilia? (again, I'm trying to stay spoiler free)

On a scale from 1 - 10, how powerful would you rank your OC? What about their UM? (and what is their UM?)

Which of the 7 deadly sins (pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, sloth) do you associate most with your OC and why? (remember some of these have more than one connotation e.g. blood lust)

What's your OC's favourite orchestral instrument?

FACULTY

What position do they have? How long have they been working there?

Did they go to school with any of the canon faculty/other character's parents?

How well do they remember students names and faces?

Did they know Ace's older brother? What was their impression of him?

What's a quirk they have regarding how they teach their class? (e.g. allowing cheat sheets, mandatory brain breaks, pop quizzes, weird disciplining, etc.) If they're not a teacher, how is the way they interact with students different than they interact with coworkers?

What's their opinion on Crowley/Ambrose? Given the opportunity, would they take over as headmage?

How do they feel about all the overblots? Do they ever feel slightly responsible or like they should have been there to support the students more?

How do they deal with entitled attitudes or otherwise disrespectful students?

Are there any students they've come to see as their own kid? How do they feel about the one magicless student on campus?

Do they enjoy being a part of student gossip/actively involved in student drama?

GENERAL QUESTIONS

Do they stim? What are they and what triggers it? How much do they mask?

What's something they'll never leave home without?

What was the main inspiration behind their design?

What's in their bag? (link to picrew)(if you want)

How do they handle caffeine? If they need/enjoy it, what's their preferred method of consumption? Have they ever concerned anyone with their intake?

Do they have any family heirlooms? What is it, and how long has it been in the family?

What's the fastest way to piss them off? To calm them down? To cheer them up?

What is their ideal date, be it romantic/platonic or otherwise?

Have they thought about their dream home? What's an absolute must have?

What are their minor fears?

Do they have any regrets?

If they could go back in time and talk to themselves, what age would they want to talk to? What would they say?

Do they have light in their eyes? If not, is there anything that sparks it, even temporarily?

What's their relationship with their parents? Siblings?

If they could magically change ONE aspect of their life immediately with no repercussions, what would it be?

Do they have any body modifications or tattoos? Any that aren't obvious just looking at them/in uniform?

What's their guilty pleasure?

If they could fight anyone with a guaranteed win against them, who would it be?

--------------------------------------------------

OTL I HAVE MORE QUESTIONS but I'm going to leave it at that for now <3

If you're new to tumblr, the general rule of thumb is if you're going to reblog an ask game send an ask in too. Not to me. To whoever you RB from, okay <3? If you're RBing from me don't worry about sending one in unless you really want to sdkhlkf

Have fun <3

[herrscherofinsanity]

The Daily Life of a Leader

Chaewon and the rollercoaster she calls life since becoming leader of Le Sserafim.

Fluff

Kim Chaewon x sixth member fem!reader

Word count: 3.2k

Back from the dead for Christmas!

____________________

The sun had barely risen, and the dorm was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Kim Chaewon stretched as she shuffled out of her room, her hair slightly disheveled but her mind already racing through the day’s agenda. With a yawn, she grabbed her favorite mug and poured herself a cup of coffee, its warmth helping her shake off the remnants of sleep.

The quiet mornings were her time to prepare—not just for herself, but for her members. Leadership wasn’t just a title for Chaewon; it was a responsibility she embraced wholeheartedly. Between rehearsals, variety shows, and managing their shared living space, there was always something to think about.

She glanced at the group calendar on her phone. “Dance practice at 10, a meeting with the stylists at 2… oh, and Eunchae has that school thing later,” she murmured to herself, mentally adding a note to remind their youngest about her outfit.

The sound of footsteps broke her thoughts. Yunjin trudged into the kitchen, her hair in a lopsided bun and her hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

“Morning, unnie,” Yunjin mumbled, reaching for the cereal box.

“Morning. Sleep well?” Chaewon asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Yunjin shrugged. “I think I dreamt about forgetting the choreography again. You know, typical idol nightmares.”

Chaewon chuckled. “Well, good thing we have practice later. I’ll make sure you don’t forget anything.”

Before long, the dorm was alive with noise. Sakura appeared next, already dressed and looking composed as ever. Kazuha followed shortly, her bedhead contrasting her poised demeanor. Eunchae bounded into the room last, full of energy, already singing a random song she had likely made up on the spot.

As the leader, Chaewon found herself playing multiple roles at once. She was a scheduler, a referee, a motivator, and sometimes even a nagging older sister.

“Eunchae, you have school later—don’t forget your uniform,” she called out over the chatter.

“Kazuha, let’s go over that spin move before practice, okay?”

“Yunjin, eat something healthy with that cereal.”

“Sakura unnie, can you help me remind everyone about the stylists’ meeting this afternoon?”

Each member responded in their own way: Eunchae saluted dramatically, Kazuha nodded with a soft smile, Yunjin pouted, and Sakura gave a knowing laugh.

As chaotic as mornings could be, these moments grounded Chaewon. Watching her members interact—their banter, their laughter, their quirks—reminded her why she loved this job. It wasn’t always easy being a leader, but for them, it was worth it.

With a deep breath, she smiled. “Alright, everyone, let’s get moving. We’ve got a busy day ahead.”

And just like that, the day began, each moment a new challenge and a new joy.

-----

Sakura

In the chaos of idol life, there was one person Chaewon could always rely on to keep things steady: Sakura. As the oldest member of the group, Sakura had a quiet wisdom about her, paired with years of experience in the industry that Chaewon deeply respected.

The two had developed an unspoken rhythm over time. Chaewon led with energy and drive, while Sakura balanced it with calm and level-headedness. Together, they were like yin and yang—opposite forces that worked in harmony to keep Le Sserafim running smoothly.

This particular morning, Chaewon found Sakura sitting cross-legged on the living room couch, scrolling through her phone. A half-finished cup of green tea sat on the coffee table in front of her.

“Unnie,” Chaewon began, plopping down beside her. “Have you looked at the setlist for tomorrow’s showcase yet? I feel like the transitions need some tweaking.”

Sakura looked up and gave her a small smile. “I did. I think you’re right. The first three songs flow well, but the tempo shift between the third and fourth feels abrupt. We can bring it up in practice later.”

Chaewon sighed in relief. “I knew you’d catch that too. Thanks for always being on top of things, unnie.”

Sakura chuckled softly. “That’s my job as your unofficial second-in-command, right?”

The two shared a laugh. Despite their teasing, there was a mutual understanding between them. Sakura had always been someone Chaewon could vent to when the weight of leadership felt too heavy.

“Remember when we were first deciding on positions in the group?” Sakura reminisced, setting her phone aside. “You were so nervous about being the leader.”

Chaewon rolled her eyes, though a sheepish grin crept onto her face. “Of course I was nervous! It’s a lot of pressure, unnie. And back then, I thought you should’ve been the leader. You had way more experience than I did.”

“But you’re perfect for it,” Sakura said with a sincerity that made Chaewon pause. “You care about everyone. You’re proactive, and you lead by example. The members trust you because they see how much effort you put in.”

Chaewon looked down at her hands, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Thanks, unnie. That means a lot coming from you.”

Sakura reached over and gave Chaewon’s hand a light squeeze. “Anytime. Just don’t forget that you’re not alone. You have all of us to lean on, especially me.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Yunjin shouting from the kitchen, “WHO FINISHED THE MILK?!”

Sakura and Chaewon burst into laughter, the serious moment giving way to their usual dynamic.

“Should we go help her?” Sakura asked, though she didn’t seem in any rush to get up.

“Nah,” Chaewon replied, leaning back into the couch. “Let her figure it out. It’s good character development.”

Sakura laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re terrible.”

“Maybe,” Chaewon said with a grin. “But I’m your terrible leader.”

And in that moment, as they sat side by side, Chaewon was reminded of just how lucky she was to have someone like Sakura by her side.

-----

Yunjin

If Sakura was Chaewon’s reliable confidant, Yunjin was her ultimate test of patience—and a never-ending source of entertainment. As the group’s resident ball of energy and mischief, Yunjin brought a whirlwind of unpredictability into Chaewon’s otherwise meticulously planned days.

“YAH! Huh Yunjin!” Chaewon’s voice echoed through the dorm as she burst into the kitchen, where Yunjin stood in front of the open fridge, a tub of kimchi in one hand and a plate of half-eaten toast in the other.

Yunjin blinked at her innocently. “What? I didn’t finish the milk this time!”

Chaewon crossed her arms, glaring at the crumbs scattered all over the countertop. “No, but you left the rice cooker open, the soy sauce lid off, and—what is that?!” She pointed at the monstrosity on Yunjin’s plate.

“It’s my famous kimchi-toast combo!” Yunjin declared proudly, holding it up as if she were presenting a Michelin-star dish.

“That’s not famous. That’s disgusting.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Captain!” Yunjin teased, shoving the plate in Chaewon’s direction.

Chaewon groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How are you like this? How do you function?”

“I’m a genius in disguise,” Yunjin replied with a wink, taking a huge bite of her bizarre creation.

Despite the frustration bubbling in Chaewon’s chest, she couldn’t help but chuckle. That was the thing about Yunjin—no matter how chaotic she got, she had an infectious charm that made it impossible to stay mad at her.

Later that day, during practice, Yunjin’s antics continued. As the group worked on choreography, Chaewon kept a sharp eye on every member, her leader instincts in full force.

“Yunjin, straighten your arms on the spin!” Chaewon called out.

“Got it!” Yunjin shouted back, only to immediately trip over her own feet and fall into Kazuha, who stumbled but miraculously stayed upright.

The room erupted into laughter, and even Chaewon had to bite back a smile. Yunjin, sprawled on the floor, looked up with a sheepish grin. “Okay, so maybe I need to work on my spins.”

Chaewon shook her head, hands on her hips. “You think?”

But even as she scolded her, Chaewon extended a hand to help Yunjin up. “Let’s try again. And this time, focus.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Yunjin saluted dramatically, earning another round of laughter from the group.

After practice, as they packed up to leave, Yunjin sidled up to Chaewon with a sly grin. “You know, you’d miss me if I wasn’t around to mess things up.”

Chaewon raised an eyebrow. “Would I?”

“You would,” Yunjin said confidently. “Who else would keep you on your toes? You’d get bored without me.”

Chaewon sighed but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine, maybe a little. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late!” Yunjin chirped, skipping ahead to catch up with the others.

Chaewon watched her go, shaking her head. Yunjin was chaos incarnate, but she was also a vital part of what made their group feel like home. And as much as Chaewon hated to admit it, Yunjin was right—things wouldn’t be the same without her.

-----

Kazuha

If Yunjin was a whirlwind, Kazuha was the calm after the storm—a steady and composed presence that Chaewon often found herself relying on more than she realized. The ballerina-turned-idol possessed an effortless elegance that contrasted with Chaewon’s more intense energy, and their dynamic had a certain balance that was hard to put into words.

It was late one evening when Chaewon walked into the dorm’s living room, finding Kazuha sitting cross-legged on the floor with a book in her lap. A pair of earphones dangled around her neck, and her brow furrowed as she studied the pages.

“Kazuha, what are you doing?” Chaewon asked, curious.

Kazuha looked up, her serene expression breaking into a small smile. “Studying Korean idioms. Some of them are so strange.”

Chaewon chuckled, plopping down beside her. “Yeah, idioms can be tricky. Which one is confusing you?”

“This one,” Kazuha said, pointing at the page. “‘Climbing up the stairs backward.’ What does that even mean?”

Chaewon grinned. “It means you’re doing something inefficiently or in a roundabout way.”

Kazuha blinked. “Oh... so, kind of like how Yunjin dances sometimes?”

Chaewon burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “Exactly like that. You’re catching on.”

Moments like these reminded Chaewon of how much Kazuha had grown since joining the group. From her initial shyness to her quiet confidence now, Kazuha was a pillar of strength in her own understated way.

During practice, this became even more apparent. Chaewon was always impressed by Kazuha’s discipline, a trait she carried over from her ballet background. But it wasn’t just her work ethic that stood out—it was her ability to stay calm under pressure, something Chaewon deeply admired.

“Kazuha, can you try that move again? Just a bit sharper this time,” Chaewon said as the group rehearsed.

Kazuha nodded, adjusting her position. She repeated the move with precision, earning a satisfied nod from Chaewon.

“Perfect,” Chaewon said. “You’re always so consistent.”

Kazuha smiled softly. “It’s because you’re a good leader. You give clear instructions.”

Chaewon blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Oh… well, thank you. That means a lot.”

It was rare for Kazuha to be so direct with her praise, but when she was, it felt deeply sincere.

Later that night, as the members settled down after practice, Kazuha approached Chaewon with two steaming mugs of tea. “You looked tired, so I made this for you,” she said, handing one to the leader.

Chaewon accepted the mug, her heart warming at the gesture. “Thanks, Zuha. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” Kazuha replied simply, sitting down beside her.

They sipped their tea in comfortable silence, the quiet camaraderie between them speaking volumes.

“You know,” Chaewon said after a moment, “you’re like the glue that holds us together sometimes. Your calmness keeps the rest of us grounded.”

Kazuha tilted her head, a small, thoughtful smile gracing her lips. “And you’re the one who makes us feel safe. You’re our leader.”

Chaewon smiled, her chest tightening with gratitude. Kazuha’s words were few, but they carried so much weight.

“Thank you, Zuha,” Chaewon said softly.

As the two sat together, Chaewon realized that while Kazuha might not be as loud or dramatic as some of the others, her quiet strength was an invaluable part of their group—and Chaewon was endlessly grateful for it.

-----

Eunchae

If Chaewon ever found herself feeling overwhelmed by the pressures of leadership, she knew there was one person who could pull her out of it—Eunchae, the group’s irrepressible ball of energy.

From the moment they’d met, Eunchae had made it her unofficial mission to bring a smile to Chaewon’s face, whether through her endless teasing, playful antics, or dramatic declarations of love.

“Unnie, you’re so serious all the time,” Eunchae whined one morning as Chaewon organized the day’s schedule. “How can you live like that?”

Chaewon glanced up from her notes, unimpressed. “Someone has to be serious, or this group would fall apart.”

Eunchae gasped, clutching her chest as if she’d been mortally wounded. “Are you saying I don’t contribute to the group’s stability?”

“Not in the way you think,” Chaewon deadpanned, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.

Eunchae noticed immediately. “Ha! You smiled! I knew I could do it!”

“Don’t get cocky,” Chaewon muttered, trying to hide her amusement.

Their dynamic was a constant push and pull—Eunchae poking and prodding Chaewon’s composed exterior, and Chaewon pretending not to enjoy it. But deep down, Chaewon adored the maknae’s boundless energy and infectious positivity.

During rehearsals, Eunchae’s mischievous streak often made an appearance. One time, as Chaewon was demonstrating a particularly difficult dance move, Eunchae snuck up behind her and mimicked her every motion, exaggerating them for comedic effect.

The room erupted in laughter, and Chaewon spun around, glaring at Eunchae. “Do you want extra practice tonight?” she threatened, though there was no real malice in her voice.

Eunchae grinned, unrepentant. “You’re just mad because I did it better.”

“Better?” Chaewon scoffed, her lips twitching. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I knew it!” Eunchae crowed, earning another round of laughter from the other members.

Despite her playful nature, Eunchae had a knack for sensing when Chaewon needed a break. One evening, as Chaewon sat in the living room, her shoulders tense from a long day, Eunchae plopped down beside her with a bag of snacks.

“Here,” Eunchae said, holding out a chip. “Eat this. It’s scientifically proven to cure stress.”

Chaewon raised an eyebrow but accepted the chip. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Eunchae said confidently, munching on one herself. “I read it on the internet. And the internet never lies.”

Chaewon snorted, her tension easing as they shared the snacks.

For all her teasing, Eunchae’s affection for Chaewon was unmistakable. One night, after a particularly grueling day, Eunchae approached Chaewon with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“Unnie,” she said softly, “you’re doing a really good job. I know we don’t say it enough, but we all see how hard you work for us. And we’re really grateful.”

Chaewon blinked, caught off guard by the heartfelt words. “Eunchae…”

“Don’t get used to it,” Eunchae said quickly, her usual playfulness returning. “I still think you’re a boring old lady most of the time.”

Chaewon rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Eunchae quipped, leaning against Chaewon’s shoulder.

Chaewon sighed, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her voice. “Yeah, I do.”

Moments like these reminded Chaewon that, for all of Eunchae’s teasing, the maknae’s lightheartedness was an essential part of their group’s dynamic—and of Chaewon’s own sanity.

-----

y/n

If Chaewon’s life as a leader could be described as controlled chaos, then y/n was the quiet reprieve she didn’t realize she needed. Where the other members brought challenges, energy, or playfulness, y/n brought balance—a steady presence in the whirlwind of idol life.

From the start, there had been an undeniable connection between them. y/n had joined the group later than the others, but it didn’t take long for her to settle into the dynamic. Chaewon was impressed by how seamlessly y/n adapted, how effortlessly she picked up choreography, and how she never let the pressure rattle her.

“You make it look so easy,” Chaewon had commented one day during practice, watching y/n nail a particularly tricky move.

y/n had laughed, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Trust me, it’s not. I just have a good teacher.”

The compliment caught Chaewon off guard, and she found herself smiling, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

From that moment, Chaewon began noticing little things about y/n—the way she always made sure everyone had water during rehearsals, the way she seemed to instinctively know when Chaewon needed a break, and the way her laugh could cut through even the most stressful day.

But what really stood out was the way y/n treated her. To the others, Chaewon was their reliable leader, someone to lean on and respect. But y/n treated her as… Chaewon. Just Chaewon.

One evening, after a long day of schedules, Chaewon and y/n found themselves alone in the dorm’s kitchen. Chaewon was mindlessly scrolling through her phone while y/n prepared a late-night snack.

“Want some?” y/n offered, holding out a plate of toast topped with avocado and a sprinkle of chili flakes.

Chaewon hesitated but nodded, accepting a piece. “Thanks.”

y/n grinned. “Careful, it’s spicy.”

Chaewon took a bite, only to immediately start coughing as the heat hit her. y/n burst out laughing, handing her a glass of water.

“You could’ve warned me!” Chaewon choked, glaring at y/n through watery eyes.

“I did!” y/n protested, still laughing. “I said it was spicy!”

Chaewon tried to stay mad but found herself laughing along. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” y/n teased, a playful glint in her eye.

It was moments like these that made Chaewon’s feelings for y/n harder to ignore. She wasn’t sure when it started—when the casual glances turned into lingering stares, or when their late-night conversations became the highlight of her day. All she knew was that y/n made her feel seen in a way no one else did.

One night, as they sat on the dorm’s balcony watching the city lights, y/n turned to Chaewon with a soft smile.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” y/n said, her voice gentle. “What’s on your mind?”

Chaewon hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “Just… everything. Being a leader, keeping things together. It feels like a lot sometimes.”

y/n reached out, her hand brushing against Chaewon’s. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, you know. We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

The sincerity in y/n’s voice made Chaewon’s heart flutter. She looked down at their intertwined fingers, her breath hitching.

“y/n,” Chaewon started, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I say this enough, but… you mean a lot to me.”

y/n’s eyes softened, her grip on Chaewon’s hand tightening slightly. “You mean a lot to me too, Chaewon. More than you probably realize.”

The air between them grew heavy with unspoken words, but Chaewon couldn’t bring herself to look away. Slowly, tentatively, y/n leaned in, her gaze searching hers for permission.

Chaewon’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed the gap, her lips meeting y/n’s in a soft, lingering kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, y/n chuckled, her forehead resting against Chaewon’s. “So… does this mean I’m your favorite member now?”

Chaewon rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “Don’t push your luck.”

y/n grinned, pressing another quick kiss to her cheek. “Worth a shot.”

As they sat there, the city lights twinkling around them, Chaewon realized that, for the first time in a long time, she felt at peace. With y/n by her side, she wasn’t just a leader—she was simply Chaewon.

And that was more than enough.

____________________

A/N: Hi! Took me forever but I'm back. This was honestly very fun to write, I'm half tempted to do it with Jihyo as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Feel free to drop a request, but keep in mind I might take forever to do it.

[baddawgsports]

🎉 8 MILLION STRONG! German football just made history with record membership numbers! 👧 Girls leading the charge with 9% growth 📊 More referees than we've seen in a decade ⚽ The beautiful game is truly for everyone! #DFB125 #FootballForAll #GermanFootball #WomenInSport

[mastermindmiko]

hi,

i’m currently in my bill weasley phase aha

i was wondering if i could have gut wrenching angst and maybe fluff i need something to just cause pain aha

it’s okay if not :)

Hey, I know this is very long overdue but it's finally here! You asked for angst, and angst you shall receive. I hope I did it justice. More (Bill Weasley Fanfiction)

content warnings: none I believe, but lmk, kissing maybe? not edited Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader word count: 9201 (sorta got carried away) Summary: You and Bill were always friends, until there was something more.

a/n: Trying my best to finish all the requests I've got and simply just posting more. Also, I tried this little thing were I did a sort of rhyming (don't want to call it poetry cause that's too big a compliment) to start off the ff, you can sort of see it like a summary maybe too.

It all starts out the same way, with a girl and a boy that meet when they were small then grow until they’re tall. They grasp each other's hands, holding their stance as their friendship solidifies until there’s a shift, a switch, a fully expected change that takes things from where they were to where they are now. 

There were only ever a few things that I cared about; My family, my friends, my future and my Bill. He never fit into neither the first nor the second categories as it was simply just different with him. Living only a few kilometres away from the Weasleys ensured that I spent most of my time with him, and as we both went to Hogwarts it only made me want to sew him to my side even more. 

“Hey, why do the Weasleys call you Honey?” 

“Ummm, it involves an incident where I ended up being a large tub of honey.” I explain as vaguely as I can, still trying to erase the embarrassing story out of my head. Tonks looks at me weirdly before waving her hand, “I don’t even want to know.”

I spent ten years of my life being Bill’s friend, best friend even, watching as his family got bigger and so did he. He developed his interests and I developed mine when all I thought of him was a friend, and none of that changed until-

“Do you think Bill’s hot?” 

Nymphadora- Tonks asked me one day. I look up from my lunch and ask her, “What?” 

“You know Bill- you’re friend, tall, ginger-” 

“I know who Bill is…” I trail off, and I think of what she just asked, now that we were fifteen (practically adults), everyone started falling for people left and right, while I just focused on Quidditch and OWLs. Bill was doing the same as me, we would study together, practise together, there just wasn’t enough time building a future and also doing normal typical teenager stuff. 

“You gotta admit, he’s gotten mighty fit over the summer.” Tonks said, and I looked at the girl who’s two years younger than me disapprovingly. Despite being in different years and houses, we shared the same lunch period. I scold, “Aren’t you a bit too young to be thinking of things like that?” 

“I just call it like I see it.” She replies, and then eyes me up and down with a grin on her face. I blush and push her shoulder. She laughs and I smile a bit myself. There’s a beat then she asks again, “You didn’t answer my question…do you think that Bill’s hot?” 

I look around trying to recall in my memory the most accurate picture of Bill I could conjure up. He’s definitely gotten taller. I remember how I used to be able to ruffle his hair without having to step on my tiptoes- and his hair’s gotten longer, much to Molly’s disapproval. He’s gotten a bit more tan from spending all that time out in the sun, making his freckles more apparent. 

All that time in the sun playing quidditch also changed his physique a bit. His shoulders are broader, his biceps and thighs thicker. Hands are larger and stronger. I recall the last game of the summer, only a few weeks ago, where every member of the Weasley family was playing, Ginny being the referee as she was still very small. I was the beater, as always. Bill was the chaser, and we were on opposite teams. Halfway through the game, two hours in, we were still playing and Bill decided to throw some water over his head, cooling him off. The water soaking his hair, arms and shirt, making it cling to his body-

“You totally think he is!” Tonks exclaims, and brings me out of my daydream. I feel my face flare up and I stutter as I defend myself, “It’s not that, it’s just yes, he’s fit but he’s my friend, so he’s just that, he’s just fit.” 

Tonks is still giving me that cheeky grin when I decide that that’s enough of that interaction, so I stand up, deciding to just stay in class for the next fifteen minutes till class starts. I say, “Well, I gotta go. Bye Tonks.” 

She shakes her head, and waves while I headout of the Great Hall. I pull out a piece of paper from my bag as I look at my schedule, I turn around to move the other way, when I see Potions scrawled up on the parchment. I shiver as I enter the dungeons and hope that Professor Snape doesn’t mind me waiting till class begins, I could prep the cauldron while I wait. 

I walk through the dark silent hallways, hearing the echoes of each step I take. A large hand encompasses my shoulder, and I turn around quickly lifting my wand from my waist band. I point my wand to the face of my attacker and I meet with the grinning face of Bill Weasley. I relax as Bill takes the wand out of my hand and places it inside my belt loop, a normal occurrence, if it weren’t for the fact that his face is close to mine and I notice just how sharp and angular it is. 

“Tonks told me you were heading to class, what are you doing going to potions this early? Snape barely tolerates Gryffindor’s when he has to.” Bill says, and push his hand off my shoulder, and he chuckles. I say, “Snape actually likes me, and don’t act like that when you're practically his favourite.” 

“It’s only cause I’m the best.” He grin, cockily, and he taps his head, pointing towards his brain. I push his shoulder playfully and reply, “Second best.” 

***

The Gryffindor common room fills with the sounds of both Muggle and wizard music. The smell of alcohol and sweat from the mixing bodies encases the area. A muggle born brought a machine that flickers light in different hues of different colours, having the lights bounce off the walls, as people dance in the centre of the room, and the chatter fills. 

I’m standing against some wall, holding a cup of butterbeer that was gathered from an illegal trip to Hogsmeade only a few hours ago after the win for the house. I never did drink much alcohol and especially not during Quidditch season. This was the first year I’ve been able to participate in the parties that Gryffindor house threw, and it was exciting, but much more boring than I expected. 

I’m watching the room, looking around, seeing a young Percy trying to make his way up to the boy’s dormitories as swiftly as he could while carrying two books that are twice the size of his head. Some drunk seventh years, push him, unintentionally, Percy glares at them nonetheless. I move towards him, pushing away the couples that might as well just get a room. I fling my arm around Percy’s shoulder, nod my head towards the stairs. I carry one of the books from him and we walk towards the dormitories. 

He rushes up the stairs as fast as he can as soon as he’s out of the sea of bodies. I call out his name, and despite the loud music, he turns to me, guiltily. I say, “We’ve told you a million times that you can’t stay out this loud, especially after curfew, even if it is to study.” 

“I know, I know…you won’t tell Bill?” Percy asks, lips pursed and ashamed. I sigh and give him the other book back and reply, “Not if you don’t do it again.” 

He grins from ear to ear, large glasses slipping off his nose. He laughs, “Thank you, Honey!” He wastes no second before running up the stairs once again, and I can just barely hear the sounds of the footsteps fade away before I walk away. 

I drink the last bit of the butterbeer in my cup. I go to the opposite side of the room, grimacing as people shove me around. I stand by the drinks table and start to look around for the butterbeer bowl, when I notice a mop of red hair, reaching for the firewhiskey. I shake my head and sneak up behind the unsuspecting Weasley. I reach forward and grab a handful of his hair, and pull him back. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Charlie chants, while I pull him by his hair. His hands lift up and try to loosen the grip that my fingers had on his hair. I threaten, “Put the cup down.” 

He frowns but (reluctantly) puts it down. I pull him by his hair once again and push him towards, once again the stairs of the dormitories. The place is quieter there, and I can scold him properly. We reach near the top of the first year boy’s dormitories, and I leave his hair. He rubs his head, and looks at me with a frown.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing?”  I say, while placing a soft (sort of) slap on the back of his head. He swats my hand away after, and continues to rub his head. He pouts, “Stop ruining my best feature.” 

“No, your best feature is your Quidditch skills, not your stupid hair that needs to be cut.” I scold, and look at him, disappointed. I continue, “What did you think you were during? Trying to drink Firewhiskey of all things!” 

A drunk seventh year passes us and shouts, “Yeah little Weesilie, you should try something lighter for your first time.” 

“Bugger off!” I shout at him, and I turn back to Charlie. I rant, “There’s a reason why people below fifth year aren’t allowed to be at parties and being at parties includes alcohol, so until a few more years, you’re not allowed to have any-” 

“A few more years! I’m fourteen as soon as I hit that big 15 like you and Bill, I’m gonna have some.” Charlie says, and he complains, “All my friends have some, and so do you and Bill, why can’t I? It’s just one year.” 

“A year is a long time, Charlie, and so what if all your friends are doing bad things, doesn’t mean you should to, besides Bill and I don’t even like to drink. Even when you turn 15, you’re not going to be able to drink a lot because you’re a seeker, Charlie!” I reply, and he huffs and folds his arms together. 

“That still doesn’t mean that I won’t try it.” Charlie pouts, and he looks down at the floor. I start to feel a little bad for being too hard on him, so I pull him in for a hug, surprised as to how he’s my height now. I say, “If you want to, you could, but until then, it’s off limits.” 

I smile at him, and ruffle his hair a bit. I pull my hand back then put it back on his hair again, and play with a few locks. His face flushes, and he grins at me when I say, impressed, “You weren’t lying, you definitely have the best hair.” 

“You must be lying because you’ve seen my hair.” Bill interrupts and he walks out of the first year boy’s dorms. Charlie looks at me with a panicked look, and I contemplate if I should tell Bill about what just transpired. I play, “No, I have, Charlie’s hair is just better.” 

Charlie pokes his tongue out at Bill, and I grin, and Bill slaps the back of Charlie’s head. Charlie grimaces and mumbles, “You two really are best friends…” 

“Go on, back to your dorm, now.” I say, and he rushes up the stairs. Bill sits down on the stairs and he pulls me down by his hand. I notice how large his hand is compared to mine. I sit down beside him, on the other side of the steps and he sits opposite to me, backs against the walls of the spiralling staircase. Bill asks, “What was he doing down there?” 

“Got lost, I guess…” I trail off, deciding that Charlie’s learnt his lesson. Bill looks back at the first year dorms, and he explains, “One of Percy’s friends, Oliver, found me and said that he couldn’t find Percy, he was afraid that Percy got trampled or squished by the people at the party-” 

We both laugh, and he continues, “Then a few minutes later, Percy walks in, alright and everything…so, thank you.” 

“Hey, I had nothing to do with it, Percy’s very smart.” I say, keeping Percy’s secret. Bill fiddles with the carpeted floor of the stairs and he replies, “I know you he is, but I also know that you helped, he was out at the library again, just like you helped Charlie.”

I don’t say anything and so, Bill smiles at me, and he says, “You don’t have to take care of them, it’s my responsibility, I can do it myself.” 

“I know you can, but they’re sort of like my little brothers too, so I want to.” I reply, and we sit in the silence for a bit. It was a completely normal moment, Bill and I never felt the need to fill in the silence, but for some reason, he asked, “Does that mean that you think I’m your brother too?” 

The question takes me off guard, and my heart lurches to my throat. My eyes flicker between his, searching for the right answer. Maybe for the first time ever, I find Bill hard to read. I choose to give him the truth, so I think of what that is. I couldn’t classify Bill as a sort of family, but I also don’t know where I would put Bill. I opt for the simple answer , not wanting to think about more. I didn’t even know if there was more. I replied, “No…” 

He shuffles a bit closer and the air is charged between us. I pull my knees together and pull them to my chest, to make way for him to come closer. I brush an annoying lock out of my eyes, not wanting to spend a second not looking at him. He says, abruptly, "You're very handsome…”

He notices what he’s said and he flushes, I let out a small laugh and notice the way his face heats up, and how mine is also red. The contrast between his brownish red freckles and his skin and the way his nose seems to be at a perfect angle, Bill honestly was just so- “You’re pretty too”

He smiles at my comment, and he looks at my eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Why can’t I understand what he’s doing? When have I ever not understood what he’s doing? Ever since Tonks made me realise how drop-dead gorgeous Bill is, I-

“If I’m not your brother, what am I then?” He asks, and he searches my eyes for the answer that I don’t even know myself. He isn’t my friend, it feels wrong to say it, and I don’t know what other thing Bill could be for me, but we’ve been friends for a decade now. I answer, “I don’t know.” 

“Friend?” 

“I don’t know.” I repeat, and I look down at the floor, not being able to stand his piercing blue eyes trained on me anymore. His hand grazes my cheek, pushing the hair behind my ear, the contact makes me shoot up to look at his eyes. It feels different, so much more different than any other look we’ve shared before. He adds, “I don’t know either…” 

His hand cups my cheek, and it feels so much more, but what even is more between Bill and I? He brushes his thumb over my cheekbones, and he leans in. My legs part slightly, so he can shift closer. I didn’t even realise what I’d done till he was only a few centimetres away from my face. He looks at me, searching, and then down to my lips. 

My breath hitches, and I can see his chest heave. My lips part under his gaze, and he leans closer. Maybe this is what more means for us? I don’t know what could happen after but I know this-I lift my hand up to encase his wrist. His eyes flicker back to mine, and I say, “You’re never going to be the same to me after this.” 

“You haven’t been the same to me in a while.” His last words before he gives me one last look before he kisses me. 

***

The summer passed by in a blur where it’s nothing but hazy memories of Bill. It’s not a surprise that I spend most of my summer at the Weasleys with my parents working all around the world. The surprise is the way Bill grasps my hand under the table, and the whispers between us are now sweet not taunts and games. 

He would send me cheeky smiles and flirty grins across the room. He would wake me up in the middle of the night and take me from Ginny’s room so we could go watch the stars outside the Burrow, laying on the grass, just like now…

“I can’t believe that we’re about to go back to Hogwarts in two days.” Bill says, as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him. Contact has never been unknown between us, but this was entirely new. I run my hands through his long hair, and I sigh, “Yeah, two more years and we’re out of Hogwarts.” 

“Everything will change…” I trail off, scared of what’s to come, when we’re getting real jobs and we’re not sheltered anymore, out to fend for ourselves. Bill looks at me and I can see the stars shine from his eyes, and it’s a mesmerising sight. Bill pecks my lips before saying, “Not us, never us.” 

I smile as he nuzzles his face into my neck, and I wrap my arms around his back. I hope he’s right, I really do hope he is. I don’t know what I could do without Bill. I wonder if his family knows about us, if they feel what’s changed. The only one who does know is poor Percy when he wandered off in the library only to find us snogging in between the bookshelves. 

The other person who knows about us is Charlie but that’s because the boy was smart when it comes to things like these. He noticed the blush on my cheeks first then Bill’s smiles and then one day he dropped his spoon under the table during dinner and he saw our legs intertwined. He didn’t mention it at first until the next day, when he did the same thing on purpose, and he noticed Bill holding my hand. 

He spent the entirety of that week trying to find us doing something. When we were together, he would suddenly burst through the door screaming, ‘AHA!’, and then he’d find us playing cards on the floor. We realised what he was doing early on, but we let him have his fun, until one day, he gave up and burst through the door once again, and said, “Why won’t you guys tell me that you’re dating?” 

I answered first, “Because we aren’t…” 

Bill nodded along, but Charlie looked beyond confused. He questioned us; Do you hold hands? Spend time together? Act all cute and annoying? Kiss each other? Bill replied yes to all of the questions and then Charlie asked us why we weren’t dating already, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing as well. 

I run my hands through his hair and I ask, tentatively, “Bill…” 

He hums, and I try to find the courage to ask before it’s all gone and forgotten because I need to know. I try to ask the most dreaded question in the world, in a confident matter like it didn’t matter at all to me what his answer might be, instead I stutter, “I-What are we?” 

He pauses, tenses, a few seconds pass then he lifts his head out of the crook of my neck and he hesitates, “I don’t know.” 

A beat passes, and I press, “I mean, when we go back-to Hogwarts, and some girl asks you out, what will you say?” 

He reaches the hand that was wrapped around my waist and rubs the back of his neck. He replies, “I don’t know.” 

“What if a guy asks me out?” I ask, scanning for answers in his eyes, hoping to elicit a reaction that he would care if he were to share me with someone else, that he’s mine and I am his. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “You’ll just say what you want to say.” 

He puts back his arm around my waist and he puts his face back into the crook of my shoulder. I sigh, unsatisfied with the answer. I place my hands back into his hair and play with the long ginger strands. His breath tickles my neck and he starts planting kisses on my shoulder. He trails them up to my neck and I sigh, contently. He begins to nibble and suckle the skin while I begin to tug on his hair. 

He lowers his hand that’s on my waist, bit by bit till he reaches my butt. He squeezes firmly causing me to gasp and press my hips forward towards him. I feel it, I feel him and Merlin, he’s- His hand trails lower to my thighs and it encourages me to sling my leg around his hip. His mouth moves up to my jaw, and then to my mouth. His tongue slips inside my mouth and he pushes his hips against mine. He groans and I pull away, I ask, “Here?” 

“What if your parents wake up, or someone notices? We can not traumatise someone else like we did with Percy and Charlie-” Bill silences me by pressing his lips against mine and that’s when I feel him start to harden underneath me. I moan as I wrap my legs more firmly around him as I press our hips tightly together. Bill pulls back this time, and he looks over at me, my hair sprawled everywhere and I feel the heat in my face. I press my hands to my cheeks feeling the difference in temperature. I ask, “Is my face red? It feels like it is.” 

Bill smiles and pulls my hands down and kisses me. He replies, “No, it’s perfect.” 

***

Bill Weasley is my first everything, kiss, first time, first whatever this thing was, and first heartbreak even if we technically didn’t stop. I was alright with it, I was because it felt like he was just as into me as I was into him. Just because we didn’t label the thing that we had doesn’t mean that we have to. It’s Bill, and I trust him. 

It was all going alright, more than alright, it was great, there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t spend with him, and I was so sure that I was falling for him, if I hadn’t already. I was on my way to Ancient Runes when I heard Bill’s voice, I perked up, until I heard another female voice with him. I slow down and I overhear the conversation. 

“Do you?” The female voice asks. 

“No, I uh, I don’t.” Bill

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I can hear the grin in her voice

“Nope, I’m single.” 

I feel my eyes well up and I take a few deep breaths willing them away before deciding that I’m going to be taking a different route, and I end up late to class. The thing that I was worried about happened, and ugh, what am I going to do with myself if he does end up getting a girlfriend and it’s not me? 

I avoided Bill like the plague for a week, the only Weasleys I’m speaking to were Charlie and Percy, but even then it hurt, they looked so much like him. I cried more than I’m proud of, and even when Bill did try to talk to me, I would simply just walk away. 

It’s been exactly a week since I overheard Bill and I’m on my way to ancient runes once more. Someone calls my name, and Edgar Bones walks over to me. I wait for him to catch up and he smiles at me with a boyish grin. Bones asks, “You need a walk to class?” 

“Umm, I’m alright.” I reply, and walk on, but Bones follows. He walks along beside me and says, “Well, I’d like to give you one if you don’t mind.” 

I don’t reply and simply make my way to class, hoping that Bill wouldn’t get the wrong idea seeing me and Bones- wait, why should I care about what Bill thinks? He’s not my boyfriend as he’s made it very clear to some girl. I take Bill out of my mind and walk on. Bones walks beside me, an appropriate distance away. Halfway through the walk he looks towards me and asks, “Would you like me to carry your books?” 

“No, I’m alright.” I reply and adjust my bag over my shoulder and the books that are on my arm. I wonder what he might be doing walking me to class. Over the past six years, we’ve only had a few conversations all involving school or Quidditch. Nonetheless, he reaches over and grabs the books out of my arm, and I mumble a thank you at the kind gesture. 

We reach the door of the class, and I stand there. I look around while noticing Bones shuffling on his feet. I decide to be blunt and ask, “Bones, we’ve talked about four times since we’ve known each other, why are you walking me to class and holding my books?” 

“I-uh, I know this is out of the blue for you, but I-” He cuts himself off and looks around nervously. His gaze falls on something behind me and I look around to see McLaggen giving Bones two thumbs up, I look back at Bones confused and he clears his throat. He asks, “Would you like to go out with me?” 

It’s my turn to look around nervous, and shuffle awkwardly on my feet. I reply, “It’s just that we don’t know each other that well.” 

“I was hoping we’d get to do that over some butterbeer.” He says, and I notice the red tint on his cheeks. The silence is tense. I think it over; Bones is quite fit, and he’s one of the smartest people in Hufflepuff, I’ve heard he’s actually quite kind also. Besides, not like anyone is holding me back anymore. I say, “Sure then.” 

He beams and he raises his hand up in a thumbs up, no doubt to show McLaggen, it’s sort of cute, if you think about it. He plans, “How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at eleven and we’ll head over to the three broomsticks?” 

“That sounds good.” I say, and he grins. He hands me my books back then says quickly, “Well, I’ve got class in two minutes, so I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

He breaks off into a run, McLaggen following behind him, and I head inside class. I sit in the middle beside the wall where I usually sit, and think about this date. I don’t like Bones, but most people don’t have feelings for the person that they’re going on a first date with. After the date is when the feelings pop up. It’s actually nice to be asked out, and not to be kissed once everyday when no one’s watching. 

I was getting excited about the prospect, thinking about what to wear, how to style my hair, when Bill walks in. He looks at me with a deep frown and heads off to sit beside someone else. I expected him to try to talk to me like he has in all of our classes, but he didn’t. He stares out the window for the entirety of class, which is unlike him, especially during the class that made him realise that he wanted to be a cursebreaker. 

I take a few notes, more than I usually do without noticing just in case Bill needed some after class. He would do the same when I would doze off during class or when I was sick. The bell rings and I put my books in my bag and sling it over my shoulder, holding a few on my arm. I barely walk out of class when someone pulls on my bag, pulling me back as well. I say, “Hey!” 

“Is it true?” Bill asks, just as I register that it’s him and not someone that I don’t know. His cheeks are flushed, but in the way that makes him seem agitated. I look at him confused and I ask, “What?” 

“You’re going out on a date with Bones? Is it true?” He asks, and I find myself pursing my lips and avoiding to answer. He runs a hand through his hair frustrated, and then continues, “Cause maybe, you didn’t know it was a date? Did you know?” 

“Can we not do this here?” I ask, when I see people stopping walking around and looking at me and Bill instead. A few whispers follow, and Bill grabs my hand to lead me somewhere more crowded. We stand in front of a large window with the sunlight beaming through and it’s near a hidden alcove where no one comes often. The hallway is empty and Bill doesn’t say anything before he sighs and asks, “Are you really?” 

“Yes.” I reply, and I can see his shoulders fall. He takes a few steps closer to me and asks me, “Did you know it was a date?” 

“Yes, I did, I’m not an idiot.” I snap, and his shoulders tense over and his frown deepens. His stance becomes defensive and he folds his arms over his chest. He says, “Bones is a dick, he just uses girls for sex, and he’s a big jerk.” 

“No, he’s not-” 

“He’s mean to his family and he treats his friends badly-” 

“No! He doesn’t, Bill.” I shout, “Stop making him try to seem like a jerk just so I won’t go out with him.” 

He bites his lip and looks away. His chest is heaving and his jaw clenches. I take a step back and I whisper, “You don’t have a say on who I go out with, you’re not my boyfriend.” 

Bill eyes me for a moment, and I try to stand my ground. He sighs, before turning around and leaving in a huff. I can hear his angry footsteps even after he’s out of my line of sight. 

***

The entire time when I’m getting ready to go out on a date, I think of Bill. Bill always said he liked my hair up, so I’m keeping it down. He liked me in red, so I’m wearing blue, anything to keep him out of my head. It’s my first ever date with a guy who might actually want to be my boyfriend instead of Bill who would kiss me and leave. 

10.55

I walk downstairs and decide to wait the last few minutes outside the common room while I wait for Bones. I’m just about at the end of the stairs when Charlie rushes over to me. “Hi, Honey!” 

“Oh, Hi Charlie.” I wave to him while he walks over to me. He smiles and he walks over to me, way too slowly. He reaches me and asks, “What are you doing dressed up so nice?” 

“Nothing much, Charlie.” I reply, not wanting to tell the boy that things with Bill and I are what they are. He looks me up and down, and narrows his eyes at me. He asks, “Are you going out on a date?” 

10.57

“I uh- yeah.” I say, reluctantly. Charlies purses his lips, thinking. He looks at me, confused. He thinks out loud, “That’s weird, Bill told me that he wasn’t going to Hogsmeade today.” 

“I’m not going with Bill.” I say, and Charlie’s face falls and he’s looking at me with those heartbroken puppy eyes. My heart aches, and I can’t stand it much longer. I rush, “I’ll talk to you later, Charlie.” 

10.58

I look up from my watch as I make it to the door of the common room when a small little redhead steps between me and the door. Percy grins up at me, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He holds a book out to me and he asks, “Hey, honey! Could you help me with this potions chapter?” 

“Of course, Percy just when I head back, it’s hogsmeade weekend.” I explain and his smile falls. I wonder why I am breaking all of the young Weasley’s hearts today. Percy asks, “Where are you going at Hogsmeade?” 

“I’m not sure you’d know what I’m talking about Percy, you’ve never been there before.” I reply and look back at my watch. 

10.59

“I still wanna know.” Percy insists, and I reply, “I’m going to this place called ‘the three broomsticks’ where I’m going to have some drinks and stuff like butterbeer.” 

Percy nods his head, looking intrigued. He strokes his chin like an old man deep in thought. He says, “Tell me more about it.” 

“I would love to, Percy and I will, but I have to get going now.” I say, and he frowns, I ruffle his hair and try to soften the blow, “But how about, when I get back, after lunch maybe, we can go to the library and I’ll tell you all about it and I’ll help you with potions.” 

He nodded and then quickly ran back up the stairs…weird. I finally open the door to the common room and I see Bones standing a few feet away from the door. He waves to people in our year as he greets them. 

11.00 

I look at my watch and I smile at his punctuality. He grins when he sees me and I offer a polite smile back. I walked over to him and he met me halfway. He tells me that I look pretty and I tell him the same. He loops our arms together and we walk through the castles to where the carriages are being pulled towards Hogsmeade. We talked a little most of the time but a lot at other times. We sat watching the snowfall on the ground from the window. He tells me his favourite season is spring, I tell him mine is autumn. 

He told me how this is his first date and I told him the same. I can tell that he’s itching to ask Bill and I’m dying for him not to. We drink butterbeer and he offers to pay. We talk about our plans and how he wants to be a healer. I tell him that I’m not sure. He said that it’s okay. I smile at him as he tells me that he loves Potions and he does the same when I talk about Arithmancy. 

When we’re in the carriages heading back when there’s about an hour left till lunch, he tells me he’s had a great time and I tell him the same. He pulls his jacket around my shivering arms, and then leans forward to kiss me. I reciprocate and then he tells me that he wants to hold on to the date a little bit more. 

We hop off the carriage and it takes us the better part of an hour to walk back to the castle ourselves. We talk for most of the time, the other half just listening to the sound of our footsteps on the snow. He trips over a branch on the ground and falls face first into the snow. His face leaves an imprint on the snow and I bend over laughing. He throws a snowball at my face, and that’s when the snow fight begins. 

We fall on the ground when he asks if I like Bill, and dreadidly I say yes. He assures me and tells me that he’s still happy to have known me better. We decide that if he’s ever in need of an Arithmancy tutor that he can come to me, and his door is always open when I need help with potions. 

The date ended and it was a good first date even if it didn’t end with a new romantic prospect.  Lunch is almost over, so I grab a few snacks from the Great Hall before heading over to my dorm to change before meeting up with Percy in the library. Charlie stops me as soon as I enter the common room. 

“I need your help!” Charlie exclaims and I get worried very quickly. He drags me by my hand up the staircase to the boy’s dormitories and I hope that the staircases don’t turn into a slide beneath us. He leads me up and up and up the stairs till we reach the fifth year boy’s dorms. Bill’s dorms. On our way there, he asks, “You said Bill doesn’t like alcohol.” 

“He doesn’t.” I reply and Charlie tuts before he opens the door to Bill’s dorm. I smell the alcohol before I see Bill. He’s lying on the floor, with his hand wrapped around a bottle of Firewhiskey. I hear some tiny sobs before walking over to him, falling to my knees in worry. I wave over to Charlie, motioning for him to leave while I take care of Bill. 

Bill beams when he sees me. His hand reaches over to cup my face, and he stutters, “You’re very very pretty, honey.” 

I press a tiny kiss to his forehead to soothe him, and he closes his eyes in momentary bliss and I can see the tears streaks running from under his eyes and over his cheeks. I lean to grasp the bottle of Firewhiskey from his hand, but he tightens his grip over it. He protests, “No!” 

“Come on, Bill. You don’t even like this thing.” I insist and pry the bottle out of his fingers. I put it away on one of his other roommates' nightstands.  Bill frowns, “I know, I know, I just need it today, just today…” 

He lets out a sob, and I push him up so he can sit upright and rub circles on his back. He leans his head on my shoulder and he holds my hand. He sighs softly and I ask, “Why do you need it today, Bill?” 

“Cause you’re o-on a date.” Bill says, and my heart pounds under my chest. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bill like this. He rambles, “You went out with someone else, you laughed and you went to the three broomstick, and he kissed you-” 

“Wait, you followed me?” I ask, anger bubbling. Bill notices and he quickly lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me, eyes wide. I still push a strand of his long hair over his eyes. He grasps my head from his face and he chokes out another sob, “I couldn’t help it, I love you!” 

I gasp, and Bill sobs covering his face with his hands. I look away, feeling my eyes water, why couldn’t he feel those emotions when sober? I blink away the tears and I pull him to my chest, and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight that I might fear for my ribs. I pet his head and whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

“You can’t like him, I love you!” Bill repeats and I can’t help but start to let a few tears slip. Bill shouldn’t be spilling anymore thoughts when he’s like this, especially if they might not be true. I say, “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Only if you stay.” Bill says, and I nod my head. I help him up and he falls. He starts tripping over his feet, as I lead him to his bed, the one with the photo of his face on the nightstand beside it. I cover him with a blanket and I move away from him. He grabs a hold of my wrist. I reassure him, “I’m only going to get the trash in, just in case you decide to throw up.” 

He nods, and then lets go of my wrist slowly. I grab the trash bin and a glass of water, and set them both beside him. He grabs me again, and he pulls me on top of him. He smiles when he sees my face. He cups my face and rubs his thumb across my cheekbones. It felt nice, like it wasn’t complicated at all. It felt the same way it did during the summer, and I covered his hand with my own. His smile dropped and he asked, “Why did you have to go away?” 

“What are you talking about, Bill?” 

“You haven’t talked to me in a while.” Bill says, and I clear my throat before correcting him, “A week isn’t a while.” 

“A few minutes not talking to you is agony enough.” Bill says, and I sigh. He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes, and his other hand goes to my back, lifting up a slight part of my shirt before settling down on my warm, bare skin. I answer, “You told a girl that you didn’t have a girlfriend.” 

He frowns and purses his lips, thoughts travelling throw them, slower than they would if he were sober. The pieces joining together before his lips part in astonishment. He asks, “You want to be my girlfriend?” 

It takes me a moment. I didn’t know at first, but the feeling of it, of having him call me his, kissing him whenever I can. I still don’t think that would be enough, I want more, so much more than just that. I reply, “I want to be more than that with you Bill.” 

“How?” 

“I don’t know.” 

***

“We’re just so proud of Bill for taking this step forward.” Molly gushes about Bill to me. We’re all sitting at the dinner table just a month into the summer before our seventh and final year. The Gred and Forge, Ginny and Ron are on one side of the table. Arthur sits at the head at the table Charlie opposite to him while Molly sits next to Bill who sits next to me. 

None of the kids care about the conversation, just eating little chicken nuggets and some fries with chocolate milkshakes, playing with each other. As Fred and George tell eachother jokes, while Ron munches on his food. Ginny just plays with her hair trying to braid tiny strands of it without looking. 

Charlie is just rolling her eyes at how much Molly is gushing about Bill, while Bill flushes trying to get her to stop, embarrassed. Arthur is making sure that Fred and George don’t set the table on fire, due to previous experiences. Molly says one thing that peaks my interest, “I mean taking an internship that could lead to a job in Egypt, obviously he’ll visit a lot-” 

“What internship?” I cut Molly off asking, tense, and the table went silent. I look at Bill questioningly. Bill swallows his last bit of food before turning to look at me. Molly exclaims, “Oh, I’ve said something wrong, Haven’t I? I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s alright, Molly.” I reassure her from behind Bill, while he pets his mother’s arm. Bill clears his throat and looks at me explaining, “I didn’t take it, I still have to get accepted.” 

“In Egypt?” I ask, frowning at the far off place, in an entirely different continent. He says softly, “Yeah.” 

“It’s a curse breaking internship, and who knows maybe I’ll be working there around tombs and mummies and-” Bill explains, and I question, “And you’re just going?” 

“If I get accepted-” 

“And you’re gonna leave.” I point out, and he looks around awkwardly as Ginny starts asking Arthur where Bill is going and why he’s leaving. Molly and Aurthur usher everyone out of the dinning area just leaving Bill and I there. We sit in silence, and I don’t know where to even start. Don’t go, stay. How could you leave? I start, “Were you going to tell me about this?” 

“I didn’t want to tell you before I got it, would’ve been a lot of worry for nothing.” Bill says, and I turn around my chair to face him. He does the same. Our knees touching and legs intertwined. I ask, “And if you get it?” 

I wait for his answer as he looks down at the ground and I put my hand out grabbing his hand in mine. I play with his hand with both of mine and I place it on my lap. HE stays silent and I ask, “Would you go?”

“I-I don’t know, probably.” Bill says, and I feel pieces of my heart start to crack off. My hold on his hand tightens and I question, “What about your family? I’m sure Molly needs a helping hand around here. Charlie and Percy need their older brother, Who’s gonna keep Fred and George in line? Ron looks up to you, and Ginny loves you so much-” 

Bill cuts me off with a strong kiss on my lips while his hand encases my face. It’s the first one in a while and I relish in it. When Bill woke up after my date, he couldn’t remember anything but through a heated discussion we decided to take a few steps back. He was just my friend again. I hold his face in between my hands, and I whisper softly, “I need you to stay.” 

Bill places some more kisses onto my face and he hugs me tightly. I pull him closer, and think of how he could go. Go and be so far away. I ask from the crook of his neck, “How long would this internship be?” 

“A year.” 

“That’s not a long time…” I convince myself and him. He grabs my waist tighter and he says, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that I won’t get it.” 

But he did. 

***

After a year of not seeing Bill, my first year working as the new professor of Arithmancy at Hogwarts, I might as well be jumping off the walls, bursting from excitement just to see him again. We had spent our seventh year in agony waiting to see if he got the internship or not, and when he did, I spent the last of the year, holding onto him until he had to leave. 

He didn’t kiss me once that year, except when we were on the train for the last time, heading back to platform 9 ¾ . We stayed as we were, except I stayed true to my word. I couldn’t see him as simply my friend anymore. Whenever he hugged me I wanted to savour that feeling forever. When he talked I wished I could listen to him talk forever and have those lips on mine. When he held Ginny and played with her hair, braiding it, I couldn’t help but picture a future like this, with him. 

When he came back, flew in through the Floo network from the ministry, I wasted no second in running towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck. The sounds of his siblings cheer loudly and they push me aside to hug their brother, and I chuckle at their love for him.

He flicks Fred and George’s hair telling them to stop getting so tall or they might catch up to him. He tells Ginny that she’s still as beautiful as ever, and for Ron to set up the wizarding chess board for a game later tonight. He asks Percy to get all his books ready so he can tell him an in depth description about all of them, and for Charlie to start stretching so he can beat his ass in quidditch. All the while, he shoots me looks from over their shoulders. 

Molly kisses her son and scolds him for not writing more often, he tells her that there simply wasn’t enough time, and then Molly, ushers everyone out. I stare at Bill and notice how his arms got larger and he became more chiselled (if possible), I point to the most notable difference. I point to his hair that’s currently in a low bun, making him look so very handsome. I ask, “You grew your hair.” 

“Yeah, Mom’s already begged me to cut it twice already.” He chuckles, and I take a few steps forwards towards him. I hug him and put my arms around his neck, and he moves his head to kiss me instead. Kissing me hard, and passionately. It takes me by surprise and I gasp, “Bill, what?” 

I don’t get a chance as his lips are back on mine, kissing me harder. I chuckle at his intent, and he wraps his arms around me. Our chests pressed against each other. I breathe him in deeply, and I realise how much I missed him. Every little thing about him too. I pull away to breathe and Bill chases after my lips. That’s when I realise something’s wrong. He’s kissing me because he needs to, he’s holding onto me. 

“They’ve given me the job full time-” Bill says and I immediately frown. I start, “I-” 

He cuts me off with another powerful kiss and another few seconds of silence where I can hear my heartbeats in my ears due to the lack of oxygen. It felt so blissful despite the ache in my chest because of the lack of air and Bill’s words. Bill starts, “They want me to take the job and move their full time-” 

“Bill-” 

“But I won’t go, if you ask me to stay.” Bill finishes, and I’m struck by his words. He pecks my lips once more, and I’m left reeling with all this information. I smile, bittersweetly, “You got your dream job…” 

“But it’s so far away.” I say, and he nods his head. He pulls my hands in his and he can already feel where I’m going with this. He rants, “You asked me what we are, and I said I don’t know, I never knew, but now I do.” 

“You can’t turn down your dream-” 

“I know now, I know that I want you, and that I love you, and if you tell me to stay I will. I’ll stay, just tell me to. Tell me that you’ll be mine.” Bill says and he lifts his hands to cup my face, looking at me as if I was the most precious thing in his life, but I’m not. He says, “I never wanted to tell you because I was an idiot, an idiot who was scared that you didn’t want him, an idiot who thought that he would lose you, if he told you he loved you.” 

I counter, “This is your dream, Bill. Your future, what you’ve always wanted-”

“No, you’re my future and I’m sorry that I didn’t know it before, but I do know. Ask me to stay, please.” he begs, and I pull his hands down. I look at him cause this might just be one of the few times that I’m going to see him for a long time. I’ve long had the image of his face pressed into my mind. I need to make sure that it withstands the test of time. I reason, “I-I’m not going to make this decision for you by asking you to stay, you might regret as time goes on-” 

“I can never regret you.” 

“I’m not going to stand in the way of this opportunity for you…you need to make it by yourself. And I’ve always been yours…” I trail off, and press a kiss on his lips. He looks at me dejected and helpless. I say, “Now, let’s go back in, your family’s waiting for you.”

***

Bill’s heading to the ministry any second now to head to the Floo network so he can go to Egypt. His family is going with him, so they can watch him Floo away, and they asked me to come, but I couldn’t because seeing his face before he goes, I might do something stupid like ask him to stay just for me, or maybe go to Egypt right with him. 

Molly said she’d come and see me after, they all will definitely be in need of a hug, especially Ginny who’s not going to bear being the only one at the Burrow anymore. I prepared a lot of food for everyone to come and get while they all cope with having Bill move away. I’m not sure I’ve copped myself, I don’t think I ever will. 

Knocks echo on my door, and I wave my wand pulling the food out on the table that I’ve arranged mishapely to gather enough chairs for the entire family. I arrange a few more things with the flick of my wand and I realise that I’ve forgotten the cups. I head over to the cupboard, and I flick my wand over to the door, making it fly open. 

“Just let yourself in Molly, I’m just putting down the cups!” I pull out eight cups and I hold them in my arms haphazardly, I make my way to the table and start arranging them. I put down all the cups, until there’s two left- “I’m not Molly.” 

I looked over my shoulder to where Bill was standing, bags at hand. He smiles at me and I smile back. I look at the clock, and I say, “Couldn’t do without a goodbye? But you’ll miss your Floo time, and you have to go where you’re supposed to-” 

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” Bill says, and my bittersweet smile drops. I look at him questioningly. He couldn’t possibly mean- He answers my thoughts, “I’m not going.” 

He sets his bags down and I put the last two cups randomly on the table. I fiddle with my fingers anxiously. I say, “I don’t want you to throw away your dream for me.” 

“It’s more like picking one dream over the other.” Bill says, still standing by the door. He continues, “I want to be a cursebreaker, and I still can be here in England, but I can’t have the life I always wanted with you if I’m miles away, and that’s what I want more than anything.” 

It’s the last of the confirmation that I need before heading over to him, rushing into his arms, as he finally holds me, and he whispers that he loves me. He kisses me and I forget to brace myself over how dizzy and giddy he makes me, finally as my own.

a/n: hope you liked it!

[againaweasel]

The thing I find so interesting about Remus is the character development we know that he’s had over the years

The Remus who, in Order of the Phoenix, can tell Sirius to sit down and stop and at least acts like they’re on equal footing, is not the same Remus as he is during the Marauders Era.

That Remus, by his own admission, didn’t have “the nerve” to tell Sirius to stop, or tell him when he’s out of order. His “you might” he said darkly” when Sirius wishes it was a full moon (something incredibly painful for Remus, so he can say it but Sirius shouldn’t wish it upon him bcs he finds it fun like c’mon dude) is likely as close as he gets. Instead it was likely his silence that did the heavy lifting of “occasionally making them feel ashamed”

Sirius even agrees with this. Coupled with the things we know Sirius did do to Remus without Remus telling him no (I.e the prank), that’s rough. Especially if Sirius knows that Remus is too chicken shit to stop him or tell him he’s out of order, that’s nasty.

But Remus grows. After all, not being able to tell his friends no or stand up to them didn’t save him the first time, they still mistrusted him no matter what. So now he can tell Sirius when he thinks he’s being a dick — still diplomatically, but he’s now the referee in his arguments with Molly rather than a simple bystander. He has a backbone when it comes to Sirius that he didn’t have as a teenager/first war

Idk I love this development for him and I kinda don’t see it very often these days

[serpentface]

WRESTLING POST:

Brakul approximately .5 seconds before tapping out in an impromptu chamenikoma match with compatriot Khattaliba Odebi.

There are two distinct forms of sport wrestling practiced here (not counting wrestling involving animals), called kagnomatso and chamenikoma. Both could be classed as submission wrestling, with victory in a match depending primarily upon forcing the opponent to concede defeat via pain/fear/exhaustion inflicted in joint locks and chokes, and secondarily (if at all) upon point scoring. Neither style fully originated here, and similar/connected forms of wrestling can be found around the eastern inner seaway.

Chamenikoma is squarely a combat sport, and its techniques are derived from (and still used in) actual life-or-death battles. Its name literally means 'naked combat', with 'naked' in this context having the implications of being unarmed/potentially unarmored. It developed in part as means for unarmed combatants to disable or kill armed/armored foes, though is also practiced as a form of training and sport. It mixes elements of kickboxing with grappling, and the Wardi variant of the broader tradition particularly emphasizes kicking strikes and leg holds. While a heavier combatant will usually be at an advantage, sufficient technical skill can overcome a fair deal of weight difference, especially given much of the technique in initially grounding an opponent revolves around using their momentum/weight against them.

Young boys who receive combat training as a part of their formal education will almost always be taught at least basics of chamenikoma, and the sport is a standard facet of training and upkeep among warrior orders. There are two sub-forms, 'armored' chamenikoma (self-explanatory, performed wearing full armor) and 'naked' chamenikoma (in this case meaning unarmored but usually clothed, actual nude matches are rare). Variants used in pure sport usually fall into the latter category, while forms used for intensive combat training or martial displays fall into the former.

Most chamenikoma tournaments are hosted by and within state warrior orders, and require membership to participate. Forms open to athletes from the general public are one of many sports in the annual triple games (a ten day sun worship + martial holiday based sporting event, hosted alternatively by year in Wardin, Ephennos, and Erubinnos), and some other towns/cities/villages put on their own tournaments opportunistically or as part of holidays.

Sport variants usually involve rules that Reduce the potential for fatalities, though there are few prohibitions against injurious behaviors and serious injuries/deaths are not unknown. Eye-gouging and opportunistic use of weapons (rocks sticks etc) are the only maneuvers that are forbidden in every possible context. Biting is considered a legitimate method of breaking holds, but is a foul if used to force submission, and bites to any part of the head/neck is usually forbidden. Hair pulling is not prohibited and considered a legitimate technique, to the point that some 'naked' tournaments will forbid participation if a combatant's hair isn't long enough for a topknot. Grappling at an opponent’s clothing/armor is also permissible, as is intentional grasping to the genitals. More restrictive rules are often set ahead of time in casual fights or those used exclusively for training.

Referees may intervene on some of these behaviors at their discretion, especially if they deem the intent purely to injure or humiliate rather than to induce submission (ie: tugging at the hair to induce pain or maintain bodily control is okay, but ripping at an already locked opponents hair is not). Referees for formal chemenikoma tournaments are almost always former wrestlers themselves (and/or high ranking warriors), and their calls are final and indisputable within any given match (though not always uncontroversial).

Matches begin upright and usually end on the ground. Fighters will start off in a readied stance and will generally attempt to kick/sweep the opponent to the ground, at which point they can be grappled into submission. Fighting will be paused if the combatants leave the designated arena space, though this does not incur any penalties. A match is won when one wrestler yields (either verbally or by tapping out, signaled by thumping the ground/their own body twice with a hand or foot), or else when one is unconscious/otherwise unresponsive. Downing an opponent and then taking a 'finishing' stance (standing with one foot placed on their neck) is also an automatic win regardless of if a yield has been declared, which is symbolically a statement of 'you would be dead if this was real warfare'.

Though these matches can get fairly nasty in physical content, chemenikoma wrestlers are expected to maintain overall respectful compartment towards their foes. A match begins with both performing a bow to one another, and insulting/mocking/spitting at a foe is socially unacceptable and can occasionally lead to disqualification. Losers are strongly expected to remain stoic and avoid signalling excessive frustration (submission is part of the sport and doesn't lead to a loss of social status as it does in actual duels, but submitting and then being notably pissy about it sometimes does). This sport has high social esteem as a demonstration of martial skill, and most participants will take it very seriously, going out of their way to compliment a worthy but defeated opponent.

---

Kagnomatso (essentially '(great/strong) dance') is purely sport-wrestling, and less physically dangerous than chamenikoma. It has little connection to any combat traditions and is intended as a test and showcase of raw strength, revolving entirely around grappling with striking being strictly prohibited. The goal is to knock an opponent to the ground through grappling and throws, and to subsequently force submission through chokes and locks. Being a heavier weight class always puts you at a considerable advantage over a lighter opponent, and technical skill only goes so far to overcome this. Tournaments (and most Wardi sporting events in general) also don't separate size or age classes, so if you've got a lightweight stature you're probably out of luck. Specialized athletes will generally be on the larger end of the size range, and access to a high calorie diet to gain + maintain weight is often a necessity for success in any formalized competitions.

Kagnomatso fighting has less of a skill barrier than proper chamenikoma, and small-scale tournaments are very often organized at village scales during holidays. Bigger tournaments are organized by cities, and also feature into the triple games. Formal bouts are generally held in small, circular rings, over grass or dirt that has been raked free of stones. Competitors wipe down their skin with olive oil soaked rags prior to a bout, rendering them more difficult to grasp but not outright sodden. They will generally compete in loincloths, though some community-organized tournaments involve fighting nude to wholly prevent grappling with clothing (which is considered cheating).

Kagnomatso tournament matches usually include point systems, which have some functions in keeping these time limitless matches from going on excessively long (though bouts between evenly matched competitors are still known to sometimes last hours). Points are scored by forcing the opponent out of the ring or pinning/holding an opponent in a prone position (chest and hips both touching the ground) for three counts. A match is automatically won if one wrestler hits ten points.

The primary goal is still to force the opponent to yield rather than to score points, as this is a more surefire way of achieving victory (and tends to be more entertaining). Matches are also sometimes called by referee on the basis of one wrestler approaching unconsciousness or otherwise being clearly incapable of continuing, even if he hasn’t yielded.

Intentional striking, eye gouging, twisting the fingers, intentional targeting/grasping of the genitals, biting, grappling with clothing, and pulling of hair is prohibited, and can mean an automatic loss at the referee's discretion. Other behaviors may be called by referees, particularly if a wrestler is judged to be attempting to break or dislocate an opponents limbs. Referees in formal tournaments generally carry a khaittail flyswatter (has a leather pad and functions as a whip) to break apart combatants when need be.

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Rematch

— Eager to have another opportunity to see Jing Yuan and Igor face off, you easily agree to play as referee for what you believe will be another fight of fists.

Includes: Igor + Jing Yuan

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader Contains: Poly relationships, sweat, voyeurism, rough sex, stomach bulge, crying, begging, unprotected sex, kissing, coming untouched, cumming in pants + alluded Igor x Jing Yuan.

[ masterlist ]

I finally finished the Wardance event and immediately fell in love with Igor to the point I wrote this in one sitting. It is unfortunate that we may not see him in future events but I hope we can. I'd like to see more Igor and Jing Yuan interactions.

Rumors travel fast on a ship filled with long-life species, what else is there to do when you've had so many years to explore every possible hobby you could find? Naturally, the ever-changing gossip of new developments that can change with a flip of a coin makes everyone a little excited. Whispers behind painted nails, lingering eyes that gaze up and down, and even shy giggles that are poorly hidden behind paper fans. The rumor mill is fast and latches onto anything that could be exploited for entertainment, you would know since it's been your main source of income for a few hundred years. Initially, being a journalist wasn't what you had in mind when you first arrived on the Luofu, but many things in your life suddenly crashed into you and expected you to figure it out. Your boss suddenly decided to cover an entirely different person of interest when the deadline was only a few hours away. The near-death experiences of wandering too deep into places known for its mara-struck monsters roaming about, all for a better picture. Even now, being suddenly asked to play as a referee for the most hyped contestants of the Wardance. An exclusive rematch between the Luofu's ringmaster and the outworlder from Belobog.

Distantly, in the far recesses of your mind which titters on the edge of rationality, are amused that you can finally answer the fan-made question that's been buzzing all over the Luofu.

Igor does fuck like he fights. Hard, fast, and he doesn't pull any punches.

"M-Mister Igor- ah! Slow...down!" you cry out, nails sinking into metal and flesh. You're starting to grow a little crazy, as if the mara decided to strike now even though you're far too young for the disease to form through old age. It's far too hot, Igor runs warmer than anyone given the coldness of his planet, but you're starting to believe that the air is turning fuzzy from the sheer heat radiating off him. It doesn't help that he wants to press himself as close to you as he physically can, the sweat on his body smearing against your skin that you think should feel disgusting, but only makes you burn hotter. You feel like you're melting inside and out, from the tip of your toes up to your brain that's turning dumber and dumber with each passing second.

"Sorry, where I'm from, there's no time for gentle loving. Besides-" Igor punctuates his word with a harsh thrust against your battered hole that sends you squealing, "I don't lose to the same opponent twice."

The declaration awakens another layer into Igor's "fighting spirit", he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is still being clung to by your hole, before burying his cock so deeply you swear you can feel it in the back of your throat. He fucks with all his strength, the loud slapping noises of his skin hitting yours fill the room, almost loud enough that your spectator can't hear any more of your near-hysterical moans. Jing Yuan has the best seat in the house, hovering just above you as he watches Igor bully his cock inside you, a tiny bump in your stomach appearing and disappearing with each thrust. Droplets of sweat trail down Igor's chin until they fall on your fucked-out face. He wonders what it tastes like? His own cock strains against the fabric of his pants at the thought, twitching and weeping pitiful drops of precum but he keeps his hands obediently at his side. It's not his turn yet.

"Ah!! No! I-Igor! Ah- my...you're gonna break me!!" your cries are ignored when Igor leans down to smother your words of mercy. It's almost cute that Igor kisses sweetly, as if he's trying to soothe the tears streaming down your cheeks despite being the cause of them. The coolness of his metal arm sends tiny shivers up your spine as it settles on the arch of your spine, pressing you even closer until you're molded against him. His other hand hitches your thigh onto the curve of his waist, a new angle for him to drive himself deeper. Small little grinds of his cock against your most sensitive spots send shocks through your body before you finally snap, a muffled moan swallowed by Igor as you cum. It doesn't stop the man, only fueling his actions as he pounds into you with utmost desperation, strings of slick being dragged in and out of your hole. Jing Yuan's eyes dim at the sight, his tongue unconsciously running over his lips. His fingers twitch slightly, his resolve and discipline wavering in the face of such temptation. The only reason he doesn't move is the near primal look in Igor's eyes that snap to his, a silent command to wait his goddamn turn.

"Don't cry. You'll like—you'll love this, just toughen it out a bit more," Igor mutters against your ear. His hand has wandered to caress the bulge in your belly, pressing his fingers down against the bump every time it pops up. Igor's hips stutter at the feeling, muscles tensing and twitching as he struggles with his strength to not cause any unwanted pain. It's been a while since he's had the time to indulge in a warm body. Between the matches and his ambition to fight for his home, he hasn't had the time or intention to accept any of the more personal proposals he's been given. There were more important things to be doing, if he needed to vent any frustration, he could be training. So to say he's a bit pent-up is an understatement.

"Fuck- Fuck! Can I come inside?" Igor groans, hands moving to dig into your waist as he physically pushes and pulls you up and down his cock like a ragdoll. You can only give a jumbled slurry of noises that vaguely sounds like a yes before Igor tenses, a low groan as he pumps his cum deeper inside you. The room finally calms down, allowing for a brief respite as Igor gathers his bearings to finally let you go, the sound of your body dropping onto the bed lifeless has him looking up worried.

"Had this been an official match, you would have been disqualified for knocking out the referee," Jing Yuan muses, his head tilting to the side until his white hair covers one of his golden eyes. He's rewarded by Igor's punched-out chuckles, his body still panting as he comes down from his high. Igor slowly maneuvers you more comfortably on the bed, easing your legs down so you don't wake up with a cramp. With great difficulty, because you're so warm, he pulls out with a groan, globs of his cum pooling onto the bedsheets. With one deep inhale, Igor tilts his head up to escape the haze, and with his exhale, golden eyes meet gold.

"You need help with that?" Igor asks as he stares Jing Yuan in the eye. He doesn't need to look down to see the mess in the lieutenant's pants. He knows that despite not being touched and the calm facade, if he were to pull Jing Yuan's pants down he would see the same white cum that's still leaking from your hole.

[para-imperium]

Scavenger Kickstarter Update

Alright, we've got thirteen days to go, and we're 48% funded. I'm seriously hoping for another big push towards the end.

I also thought I'd talk about one of the features of the Para-Imperium setting, the Core Cultures. The Federation was founded as an alliance of three star systems, the Core Worlds, populated by the descendants of four colony ships that had left the Solar system 800 years previously. These Core Worlds then used the Federation's wormholes to spread out and establish new colonies in dozens of star systems.

While Game Masters (or "Referees" in Traveller parlance) are encouraged to develop their own star systems and planets, the majority of worlds in the setting are populated by some combination of those Core Cultures. They will be detailed more in later updates, but for now I'll summarize each of them.

Pallene: Hailing from New Pallas in the Alpha Centauri system, the Pallene developed the matter conversion and wormhole technologies that enabled the Federation to be built. Their democratic ideals were undermined by the influence of their Great Houses, however.

Cetans: From the Tau Ceti system. Formerly a feudal society divided into different species-based clans, Pallene influence led them to establish a constitutional monarchy but after the Collapse they've begun to backslide.

Eridani: A vast corporation from Epsilon Eridani whose company colonies have managed to persist after the loss of galactic trade. When they don't fall to disenfranchised employee revolts.

Neo-Vestan: Historical revisionists who idolize the extinct culture of the second colony ship to settle Alpha Centauri. Their clone armies have taken advantage of the Collapse to seize many colonies out of a desire for "revenge" against the Pallene and their Federation.