#also again. why do i have to solve everyone’s problems. like sir. ma’am. i am a CHILD. GO ASK A COP

[jules-and-company]

got a little chance to continue hogwarts legacy

- on god fuck sebastian and the rest only poppy and natty are my true friends. like who takes me on a whimsical adventure to find long-lost birds and resolves a trauma ? poppy sweetiepie sweeting. who asks me to come to the great hall just to have a therapy sesh and then carries out a fight that i’m also personally involved in and WHO literally sacrifices herself for me without second thought ???? who tells me i’m the best friendship that’s ever happened to her ??? natsai motherfucking onai. AND WHO only takes me to dangerous-ass tombs full of inferi and spiders for dark relics that only serve his own personal obsession ??? who devalues everything i’m working on (aka the ancient magic file) because he’s so busy focusing on his goal (peak slytherin tho ?) ???? WHO CALLS ME STUPID TO MY FACE ???? sebastian fucking sallow. he’s an extremely interesting and complex character and i still enjoy his presence but christ alive. at first i bonded with him ´cause he was just as toxic as me but even THAT is going too far

- SPEAKING OF. when ominis said « he went alone inside the tomb » i felt we were fucked. but i didn’t think i’d find him controlling literal INFERI and i certainly didn’t think i’d have to beat his uncle’s ass BEFORE THE BOY FUCKING KILLS HIM

- i think i missed the mark where i could learn avada kedavra but let’s say it was a conscious choice. why would i want to learn the Brutal Kill Curse. first of all fights would be a lot less interesting. second i haven’t even graduated my fifth year. I AM FIFTEEN. WHY WOULD I

- when i started the fight with rookwood i didn’t think i’d have to kill the bitch. why do i have to kill everyone round these parts ??? where are the authorities ???

- officer singer only came for harlow but when I WAS gang-ambushed by at least sixteen goons and as much inferi PLUS the most dangerous man in the region suddenly you can’t fucking find me ???? why does the ministry want me dead

- after getting my ass handed to me at least twelve times during the last boss fight, i decided to leave that last principal quest where it is from now and do literally everything else. so that when i come back before ranrok i have become god

- i admit, seeing all the teachers there to help fig and i was JOYOUS (lack of headmaster tho ??? black get your lily-white racist aristocratic ass down there and help your literal coworkers and a 15yo child)

- everytime i have to destroy a piece of equipment to make room for what i find in the crests (i’ve been stupid enough to not do the merlin’s enigmas so far) i die a little because i know i’ll never find them again

- i just LOVE the grapcorn. i’ll name him bessie (mulan reference)

- i am MOURNING for lodgok. why did it have to come to this

- i don’t know about y’all but i never use plants (mandragora, chinese screaming lettuce) or potions other than a shitload of wiggenweld, nor do i have the four categories of spells at all times in my pocket, but not because i have disdain for all that, but because i am at all times panicking. so brutal force it is or nothing

- just in terms of modeling the character, i was skeptical at first of wearing simply the school’s uniform, but now i ain’t never changing. beating everyone’s asses in standard issued checkered green skirt and this green tie may be used for strangulation

- i don’t know if it’s supposed to be the same thing for the playing character regardless of house but. why do i feel like since i am in slytherin i act in a certain slytherin way. like have the developpers been smart enough to match unchoosable personality with housing. that would be cool

- more whimsical colourful adventures, less dark tombs exploring that i only get out of at the ass crack of dawn with blood all over me and five new traumas

[cyarikashakira]

Chimichangas

A/N: This is my first time writing a fanfic. I am super nervous but I have an overabundance of love for Joaquin Torres so I had to put it somewhere. I'm doing @caplanbuckybarnes's summer writing challenge.

Summary: Falling in love at the supermarket wasn’t on your to-do list today, yet here you were snatching looks at a cute stranger.

Warnings: (I don't know if these count as warnings) GN!Reader, No Y/N, Joaquin Torres is an absolute cutie pie!

‘They were gone. All of them.’ I thought as I rummaged through the wrongfully stocked freezer. A sniffle escaped, then two, which was followed by a full on wail.

“Who the hell put the Steak and Cheese chimichangas where the Chicken and Cheese chimichangas goes!?”

I slammed the freezer door and rested my head on it and placed my hand on the cold glass.

Casual shoppers and workers tiptoed around me while I grumbled to myself in annoyance. I just wanted my comfort food.

A full on breakdown in the middle of a grocery store and I gave no fucks. A tap on my shoulder and I whirled around ready to light up the poor soul who decided to bother me.

“What do you want?” I wiped the tears from my face with a growl. Giant innocent eyes looked at me in shock as I grimaced at him.

“Hi - um, can I help you?” He bravely pointed at his name tag which said ‘Joaquin’ with the Walmart name above

“Sure~ can you just point me towards the person who decided to sleep on the job and stock the wrong chimichangas in the wrong spot? I just wanna have a little chat.” I said with a fake smile on my face.

“Th-that would be me.” He gulped and pointed over his shoulder towards the stocking material behind him.

You peeked around him and just glared.

“So it was you. You have been declared as my arch nemesis. Where are the chicken and cheese chimichangas?”

“They are out of stock. But we can call you when they are back in stock.”

The air suddenly became tense.

“...Believe it or not, they already have my number because I buy them so often. It is Tuesday and it’s 8:30. They are always stocked at 8pm on Tuesday.” I looked down at my watch to double check the time. I crossed my arms ready to take my frustrations out on the worker.

“We are going to have to call some people.” He said plainly.

“What?” My head tilted to the side in confusion.

“For this chimichanga shortage. We need to call some people.” His smile got bigger as he continued talking.

“Chimi..changa shortage? If they are going to fix my day then you better call them.”

“I’m kidding..”

“Oh.” I let out a nervous laugh and made a face.

He ran a hand through his fluffy black curls and huffed. I took a look at his face, he was nervous.

“...Are you new?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“To the stock things department, yes. This grocery store, no. I’m so sorry that I stocked it wrong but thank you for pointing it out for me.”

I immediately felt bad because I realized that I was being a dick over some food.

“I’m so sorry. I’m just having a bad day. It was just a complete shit show. My cat got sick, my car is on it’s last leg and my boss is on my ass and I ran out of chimichangas and forgot to restock my fridge so here I am today - “

I rambled on and on.

“Hey, it’s okay. We all have bad days. I thought this was about to be a bad day for me also because you were upset at me.”

“I’m sorry again. I’ll live without them. I should go home before I embarrass myself even more.”

I lowered my head now feeling shy and more aware of my surroundings.

“Before you go, I think I have something that will make your day a little better. Follow me.” He turned swiftly and started walking away.

“Uh, no. I’ve burdened you enough today, sir.”

He stopped and turned to face me again. A smile formed on his face. Were those dimples always there?

“Come on. I’m just taking you to a person who can solve your problems.”

“Oh o-okay.”

I followed behind Joaquin towards the front of the grocery store. He stopped in front of the deli section and tapped a hand on the counter to alert the workers.

“Hey~ is Margie in today?” He said sweetly to the teenage girl who could barely see over the huge counter.

“Yeah Curly, she’s in the back. Let me go get her.” She ran to the back and pushed the double doors with force.

I looked at Joaquin with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“Why do they call you Curly?” A small smirk appeared on my face. He blushed and his hand went to his hair once again.

“My hair. It is how everyone finds me and the fact that I’m tall. Everyone has a nickname here. We are as much a family as capitalism will allow us to be. Margie is just...wait until you see her.”

The shock of blue hair caught my peripheral and I expected to see a teenager. No. A tall lady who was on enough to be my mama strolled up to the counter with a huge smile on her face.

“What can I do for ya, Curly Quin?” Her accent drawled as she leaned against the display case.

“We have a situation. Apparently, I suck at my job and a certain someone had an entire meltdown in the middle of the freezer aisle because they are having a bad day like it was my fault. I’m pretty sure they want to get me fired but I’m too cute for that, right? So we need a solution to their chimichanga problem.” He sarcastically and over exaggeratedly explained the situation to Margie and his smile got wider as he went on.

“So Grilled Cheese over here wants a chimichanga? How is that my problem?” Margie planted her eyes on me and I felt like I swallowed my heart.

For an old lady, her look was intense.

“I need the goods. The family secret, the whole enchilada, you get where I’m going with this. I’ll finally bring you back your book that you let me borrow when I first started working here.” Joaquin slapped on the puppy dog eyes and Margie rolled hers.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. That was a year ago. I’m never getting that book back and you know it. I’ll be back for you and Meltdown over here, assuming that is you.” She gave a small smile and moved to go towards the back doors. “Give me a sec.”

As soon as she disappeared, I face palmed and groaned.

“You guys are going to make fun of me forever, aren’t you?” I looked at him in despair.

“Oh yeah, you know it. Welcome to making history.” He smiled towards me, flashing a dimple.

“Is there a way that I can make everyone forget about this? I will pay you guys off. I promise. Just forget everything that happened here today.” I waved my hands in circular motions like I was casting a spell, earning odd looks from everyone around.

He laughed for the first time that night.

“It’s not every day a grown up has a total fit like a toddler. This has made my day and probably my whole week.”

I groaned again and stomped my foot in annoyance, ready to snap at him.

The back doors flew open and a brown paper bag was thrown in my direction. Joaquin and I fumbled to catch it at the same time and we butted heads.

“Good thing you knocked some sense into each other so I didn’t have to. Get out of here kids, your chimichanga problem is solved.” Margie smiled.

I opened the steaming paper bag and started crying.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I started bouncing up and down with joy. I wrapped my arms around Joaquin and pulled him into a tight hug, crying on his shirt.

“No problem, I can’t breathe, please..let..go..” He said dramatically.

I immediately let go and cleaned my face putting on a huge smile. He took a deep breath and put his hand on his chest.

“You guys are the best and I am so sorry for taking my frustrations out on you. I really hope you can forgive me at some point.”

“Already forgiven. I just always want to do something positive with my day and make others smile. It’s all in a day’s work.”

“I don’t know how to thank you guys enough for the chimichangas.” I held the bag close to my heart, grinning widely.

“Go home and eat them. That’s thanks enough.” Margie deadpanned.

Oh. She was still there.

“Yes ma’am. Have a good night. Thank you for everything!” I waved goodbye to her.

“Don’t mention it kid.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Margie!” He said to her.

She waved us off and we were on our way to the front doors of the store. We stopped just before the entrance, triggering the doors to automatically open. We were blocking the exit and people started going around us.

“I guess this is goodbye? Until I come in to restock my freezer again.” I said glumly, holding out my hand towards him to shake his hand.

“I guess so.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, placing it in my hand.

Question marks filled my brain as I looked down at his phone in my hand. He shyly placed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I told you whenever we restocked, I would give you a call so.. I would need your number for that.”

“Oh. But they already have my numb- Oh. Okay. Oh. Oh um, of course uh..”

I stuck my tongue out in concentration as I typed my name and number into his phone and handed it back to him.

“There you go. I uh, look forward to your call for whenever the chimichangas are back in stock.”

“Of course. I’m just doing my job. If they aren’t in stock and I’m off of work, can I still call you?”

My brain short circuited and I blinked rapidly at him. He was smooth. Toooo smooth. I studied his face for a joke.

“You aren’t joking with me, are you?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Nope, not one bit. Are you okay?” He questioned. I was sure smoke was coming out of my ears at this point.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just tired, it’s been a long day. I should get going.” I looked off towards the cars in the parking lot.

“It was nice to meet you. I’m sorry about your chimichangas and for my poor stocking skills.” He apologized sincerely.

“It was nice to meet you too, Joaquin. Thank you for everything. Am I allowed to hug you again?”

His brown eyes lit up and he furiously nodded. I wrapped my arms around him and he did the same to me. We let go as quickly as we started.

“I’ll see you around, Grilled Cheese.” He gave a two finger wave towards me and started walking backwards.

“Likewise, Joaquin Phoenix.” I started walking in the other direction.

“Haha. So original! It’s actually Falcon!” He shouted.

“What?” I stopped and turned back towards him but he was already gone.

I shrugged and walked towards my car. I opened the door and climbed inside, tossed the bag of chimichangas in the passenger seat and rested my head on the steering wheel. I released a huge sigh while lifting my head, started my car and began driving home. The street lights blurred past me on my drive home. My body was on autopilot as I opened the door, kicked my shoes off and sat on the couch next to my roommate with my bag of chimichangas.

I took a bite and immediately frowned.

‘Damn it. Steak and Cheese strikes again.’ I started laughing and shaking my head, dropping the chimichanga back in the bag.

“What is your problem?” My roommate said staring at the tv, not concerned to turn their head towards my hysterics.

“Nothing. I just had a meltdown in a freezer aisle and I think I fell in love with a stocker who is bad at his job.” I leaned back against the cushion of the couch and sighed dreamily.

“....no offense but you aren’t allowed to go to the store unsupervised ever again. You got issues...”

My phone began to ring and I just stared at the unknown number before answering.

“H-hello?” I stuttered.

“You will never guess what we just got in stock.” A light voice filled with laughter said over the phone. A huge smile formed on my face and I was booking it out of the door and yelled a quick bye to my roommate.

“I’m on my way.”

I hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried my best :)

[willkillforgoodmemories]

Schools Re-imagined

Okay fellow guys, gays and ladies (all beings are invited), TODAY on quaran-talks (get it, quarantine but replace the tine with talks, never mind), we will be 

“RE-IMAGINING SCHOOLS” (Mostly High school and it’s equivalents around the world)

so that they actually do their job and prepare us for the real world, which they haven’t. They have, however given me sleep-deprived days, traumatic memories and snakes for friends. 

ASPECT NUMBER ONE

Changing when school starts. I mean, whose lovely idea was to start school at 8.00. Many schools also start schools at 8.30 but lord, imagine how happy we all will be if schools opened a little later.

  According to the National Sleep Foundation, the sleep requirement for teenagers is between 8-10 hours per night. That indicates that the earliest healthy wake-up time for teens should not be before 7 a.m.

I propose that schools start not earlier than 9.00 am. That way one does not have to bear with the absolute feeling of grogginess of completing tasks on auto-pilot (when you complete tasks by doing the bare minimum because your brain is not awake), not rushing through morning routines (rushing can cause stress and anxiety) and can start the day on a good note.  All those you thrive on 3-4 hour naps, it is in no way healthy and in some ways, not even your mistake. Moving on,

ASPECT NUMBER TWO

The marvellous blame-game. The student is usually the pawn. Don’t get the concept while in class, the teacher will probably say that you weren’t listening. 

Ma’am or Sir, it’s your job to make sure the students understand what you teach. Be patient and stop telling them it’s wrong if they don’t understand the concept.It won’t hurt if you take out some time and teach them the concept again. 

If you don’t get the concept during homework and use the reference guide, the parents will usually say that they weren’t paying attention in class and should know it. The reference material was made for a reason, and that was so that the student could use it. If the student wasn’t able to understand in class, there is a high chance they would be able to understand it on their own with their own research. Don’t doubt a student’s ability, even a little pat on the back can go a long way. More on this later. 

ASPECT NUMBER THREE

A very popular opinion is that schools kill creativity. They don’t out right kill it, they just suppress it until it never come backs. In other words, it’s there but not quite. (confusing, just like the world’s education system). If the student says a wrong answer, don’t outright say no or prompt the class to laugh at them. Question their understanding in a polite way.  Promote creative thinking and finding different ways of solving problems. Creativity can be found in all subjects, you just need to find a will. Don’t suppress interests such as liking of a particular aesthetic, genre of music or style. 

ASPECT NUMBER FOUR

There is no space for individuality. Uniforms are okay because you don’t have to go through the hassle of picking out clothes but limiting other choices such as style of hair, use of accessories and nail polish and colour of hair should not dictate what kind of a student they are. Teachers and Administration should not care about these things because every student needs their own way of showing creativity. These things do not dictate what kind of student they are. There is a common misconception that students who do the above mentioned things will distract students and disrupt the class. The students usually compliment or comment on it and move on with their day. The teachers, however will call them out, fine them, give them detention or some other kind of punishment. The only people that are getting distracted here is the staff who takes the time out of their day to call a student out on their mode of expression. All those teachers who support their students’ choices are pure gems and deserve all the love in the world. 

ASPECT NUMBER FIVE

The ungodly amount of homework. This is an extension of ‘aspect number two.’ I along with many other teenagers believe that the homework should be limited to two hours a day. No, I don’t mean two hours per subject. I mean two hours total. It can be extended to 3.5 hours but not more than that. Take the example of a GCSE student. A normal student takes about 9-12 subjects. Depending on the intensity of the subjects,the student should spend about 15-20 minutes per subject. During tests and exam weeks, this can be bumped up to 5 hours but still, testing a student’s skills of memorization does not prepare them for the real world. After spending six hours in school, this time should be taken to go over material and identify weak points in their understanding, not increasing stress.  

ASPECT NUMBER SIX

The unhealthy expectations which really effect a teenager’s mind, and not in a good way. Many people are out here judging a student who excels in art on it’s ability to do STEM subjects, and vice versa. That’s like judging a fish's ability to climb a tree. Let the student pursue what they like without a thought in their head, “what will everyone think of me.” As a human being, they’d support and not belittle your choices. Let them pursue what they like. If they get bad grades, ask them about it. Don’t start shouting. Teachers, do not announce grades in class, you are literally creating students who build up low self-esteem. How hard is it to understand that teenagers are human beings. They’ll learn. If a previously-gifted student gets a bad grade, don’t make them feel bad about it.

ASPECT NUMBER SEVEN

Actually take a stand on matters that make sense. Stop bullies, racists, homophobes and sexists. Don’t go around nit-picking students who have long nails and unkempt hair or uniform if you have these problems roaming around. That just says that you are only caring about your outer appearance at the expense that most of your students will grow up to be ignorant citizens. A teenager mirrors their surroundings and if you can create a positive surrounding, it’s your part towards a more understanding society.

ASPECT NUMBER EIGHT

WHO thought that giving extra homework on weekends would be a good idea. Like, WHY? Weekends should be for relaxation and for revising topics. Wouldn’t it make sense if students took time to, I don’t know, go over the work from the week. That way, the information can be retained for a longer time. I also present to you the idea of making open book tests the norm. What many schools don’t understand that not everyone can memorize entire books. A student who does well on assignments but not on exams clearly shows that they understand but can’t remember it. The real world clearly shows that you don’t need to remember things because resources will always be at your disposal. A student should know how to apply concepts because 85% of the stuff they learn in school is utterly useless in real life. The remaining 15% are basics of subjects which should be learned. 

ASPECT NUMBER NINE

The schools either need counselors that actually do their job or teachers that are willing to go the extra mile. Counselors need to understand the students’ situation and help them. Don’t blame everything on the phone. (Phones are least of our problems). Normalize opposite-gender friendships. Lastly, with classes algebra and all that, wouldn’t also having classes like etiquette's, how to file taxes and other worldly classes actually help.  

REVISED TIMETABLE

As per the guidelines above. 

Biological sleep patterns shift toward later times for both sleeping and waking during adolescence -- meaning it is natural to not be able to fall asleep before 11:00 pm.

Sleep between 11:00-11.30 pm. Wake up at 7:45 am (Assuming you slept at 23.15 which is the halfway point, you got a sleep of 8.5 hours, which is healthy)Getting ready and having breakfast at a peaceful pace takes an average of 15 minutes. You will be done by 8:15 am. An average school commute takes about 30 minutes so you should have 15 minutes to spare before 8:30 am strikes and you leave for school.School starts at 9.00 am and ends at 3.00 pm. (Schools here last for 6 hours).Go for extra-curricular activities. On average, extra-curricular activities last for 1.5 hours so you should be free by 4.30-5.00 pm. That leaves you with 6 hours. Even if you take an hour long nap and take exactly 2 hours,no more or less for your homework, you will still be left with 3 hours of leisure. These 6 hours can be scheduled how ever you like. 

Now compare it to my timetable that was in place before the lock down. I woke up 6.00 am (Usually woke up early to complete homework which was impossible to complete yesterday) Left home for school at 7.15 am, usually made up for sleep in the  car. 

Reached school by 7.45. School started at 7.50 am and went on till 2.00 pm. All extra curricular activities were suspended due to tests and exam prep. Reached home at 2.40 pm. (Was picked up from school at 2.10 pm because group assignments roles cannot be assigned in class for some stupid reason so a lot of work has to be done outside class). 

Refresh and have lunch, start homework at 3.00 pm. Went on till 5.00 pm, took a 15-minute break and again continued till 9.00 pm (This is just homework). Picked up the assigned reading and assignments, that went on till 10.00 pm. Time with family till 10.45 pm. 

These were the good days. The days I was assigned art homework were torture. I have gone to school with only 3 hours of sleep many weeks. 

For a system that is suppose to help the students, the education system sure does hate students.

[rusty-guitar-strings]

Sleep Schedule

or This Fic Switches from Fluff to Angst so Fast it Gave Me Whiplash and I’m the One Who Wrote It (Not Sponsored by Starbucks)

Summary: Someone can’t sleep. Two someones, actually, and neither of them want to do anything about it. They do want the other person to sleep though. How could this possibly be solved?

or

Logan has work to do. Remy has no work to do, but is staying up anyway, for some reason Logan can’t comprehend. Remy is hiding something. Logan intends to find out what.

Rating: G or T

Pairings: Losleep/Sleep Schedule (goin’ full RWBY on these ship names)

Word Count: 2,025

Warnings: cursing, playful arguing, two very slight sexual innuendos, use of an undesired name (not deadnaming but similar), crying, one mention of religion

Note: This was written on request/suggestion from @blinksinbewilderment. My first kind-of sort-of request. I do take them!! Anyway enjoy. Also I love Remy. (If you can find the nod to blink I crammed in there, you win a hat)

All-nighters were better when they weren’t ‘all-alone-nighters’ as Remy liked to call them. Luckily, Logan wasn’t currently dealing with loneliness. No, it was quite the opposite.

“Oi, Squid-nerd, check it.” Logan’s very important financing for props of an upcoming video was suddenly blocked by the Sleep aspect’s phone, which contained a meme of some sort. He squinted wearily and adjusted his glasses, leaning in to get a closer look. It appeared to be Winnie the Pooh (what was a ‘pooh’ anyway?) effectively mimicking Logan’s current expression. The top mentioned something about someone’s mom looking at memes, and it was all he could do not to sputter.

“That is not nearly as amusing as you seem to find it, Remigius, and it doesn’t- it’s not even accurate, I can’t- I’m not your mother, that’s impossible- stop laughing-“

Remy was rolling on the floor now, knees to his chest, absolutely weeping with laughter. He got far too giggly when he was sleep deprived, in addition to the sass, and it was as frustrating as it was endearing. “I can’t believe that worked! Girl, you are too much!” He shrieked and wiped his face, chest seizing with giggles.

“How do you expect anyone else to be asleep with all this pandemonium?” Logan couldn’t quite hide all the fondness from his voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring Thomas’ dream activity, anyhow?”

“Boring business,” the diva wheezed, waving Logan off dismissively. “Same old stuff, weird self-inserts he won’t even remember when he wakes up.”

“Remigi-“

“Remy.”

“Yes, fine, Remy. Your job is important, you should be taking every aspect of it seriously.” Logan lifted an eyebrow at him, managing to pull a serious enough expression for how late at night it was.

The figment in question was sitting up in the blink of an eye, grinning smugly. His shades obscured his eyes for the moment, but Logan knew they were gleaming with mischief.

“Ha. You said ‘Spec.’”

“Really? That’s what you went with?”

“The best jokes are unanticipated and take time to understand,” he stated matter-of-factly, in an infuriatingly accurate impression of Logic himself.

“You shut your mouth, sir.” Logan shoved a hand in Remy’s face in a feeble attempt to get him to stop.

Instead, he took Logan’s hand and, making eye contact over his shades for a split second, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of the side’s knuckles. “Like this?” He purred, lips curling into his usual smirk.

“That’s acceptable, yes.” Logan, determined not to be deterred from his signature stoic state, took back possession of his hand and patted Remy twice on the head before returning to his laptop. He bit the inside of his lip to avoid smiling at Remy’s obvious deflation. He continued his budgeting uninterrupted for a few blissful moments.

“Hey L, I have a proper- poorpro- a propsit-“

“Proposition?”

“Yes, a that. I have one of those for you.” Remy stared up at him through his shades, now kneeling next to Logan’s swivel chair. His arms were folded on one arm rest and he had his chin on them, successfully equating him to the puppies that Roman summoned so often.

“All right, Remig- Remy, what is it?”

“Get your ass in bed and go the fuck to sleep.”

“Profanity does not make one more appealing.” Logan didn’t stop typing. “And you should also be sleeping.”

“I don’t need sleep, honey, I am Sleep.” Remy stuck his tongue out teasingly.

“Falsehoods are not a good look on you, sweetie,” Logan deadpanned. Remy fell backward with a gasp.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Logan?” He demanded. At the end of his accusatory point, the side in question tried not to preen at the (admittedly over-dramatic) reaction to his outburst.

“I am still present.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

“Why?” Logan waited patiently for his desired statement.

“Because you need it.”

That wasn’t quite it, so he tried again. “And why is that?” He asked evenly, adding Roman’s desperately important party poppers to the budget and scrawling a sticky note reminder to warn Virgil of the prince’s plans. The last thing they needed in a lighthearted video was an attack from him. Or on him. Logan added another sticky note directing future Logan to further explore Virgil’s role as anxiety, if he was the cause or effect, or if he could be both. He almost missed what Remy said, which would have been a disaster.

“Because sleep is important, Dumbo!”

“Ah ha!” Logan whirled in his chair triumphantly, the tip of his pen pointing directly at the figment’s nose. “So we are in agreement, then.”

Remy blinked in bewilderment. “What?”

“We both agree that you-“

“Stoppin’ ya right there, babes.” He waved a hand and conjured green tea in a Starbucks cup (not sponsored), a peculiar ability of his that Logan had yet to discover the reasoning behind. “I didn’t say nothin’ like that.”

“Why are you using double negatives? That is a disgusting misuse of the English language.” Logan, a certified nerd, gave Remy the dreaded Stare of Disappointment™️. Everyone in the Mindscape trembled in their figurative boots. But they were also asleep, so… figurative dream boots. Unless they weren’t wearing boots. They trembled in their figurative dream boots-or-other-footwear. Logan almost missed what Remy was saying for the third consecutive time.

“English is already disgusting, she doesn’t need my help.” He waved a hand. “End scene. Go to bed.”

“Roman appears to be rubbing off on you.” The creative side was the one to originate the habit of saying ‘end scene’ when he wanted to drop a conversation, and lately had begun to use it more and more seriously.

“Bitch, what did I say?” He pointed sternly at the bed, sitting with his legs crossed in the floor like toddler.

Logan tilted his chin upward defiantly. “Only if you sleep with me.” He was promptly hit in the face with a pillow.

“Ew! Nasty! No ma’am! Not in my good Christian household!” A multitude of other objects were thrown at him, luckily light and mostly harmless.

“Remigius, please- Remy! Let me rephrase, I did not intend to imply that we would, ah-“ he cleared his throat. “-have intercourse. If I am going to sleep, I want you to as well. Nothing more.” Logan adjusted his glasses awkwardly.

“Oh. Well, in that case, you’ve got a deal.” Remy looked around at the mess he’d made. “This looks like a problem for future me. I’m gonna get changed, see ya in a bit, boo.” He stood, winking. “Unless you want to join me.”

“No. I can change quite well on my own, thank you.” In a split second, Logan was wearing a science pun t-shirt (courtesy of Patton) and constellation pajama pants, and was idly removing his glasses to place them on his nightstand. He smirked to himself as Remy disappeared into the closet, complaining under his breath about how unfair his powers were and the fact that he had to change by hand.

About ten minutes later, Remy was in a tank top and shorts and his sunglasses still, lying next to Logan in bed and scrolling through his phone idly while the other attempted to sleep.

“Remy,” Logan whispered after a moment, harsh and sudden enough to make the figment jump and drop his phone. “Go to sleep.”

“Not until you do, wise guy.” He immediately regained a cool composure and reached for his device carefully.

“Are you always this hard-headed?” Logan sat up.

“Darling, have you met me?” Remy quirked an infuriatingly perfect eyebrow.

“Remigius-“

“Don’t call me that!” Sleep looked as stunned as Logan felt at his own outburst, then stiffened up and focused on his screen again instead. “Please.”

“Apologies. I wasn’t aware your proper name was a… sensitive… subject.” Logan rubbed one eye, staring downward. The other didn’t look up.

“It isn’t. I just don’t like how similar it is to… his.” He tapped his phone once with odd finality. “End scene.”

“I’m sorry, Remy, truly. I just believe that things should be called what they are, but I shouldn’t have applied that to-“

“End scene, Logan,” he persisted. “Please.” His voice broke a little, startling Logic, which was a rarity.

“Of course.” He fell silent and turned back to the blankets, rewinding the events in his mind and wondering what he’d done. It was unusual to see Sleep silent, still, and just… not causing general mischief. Where was the giggly figment he’d seen less than an hour ago? “Will you at least try and rest?”

“No rest for the wicked.” Remy smirked, typing something to someone, but it lacked the usual fire. “I meant what I said earlier. After you.”

“Remy…”

“It’s no biggie, Issac No-Fun. Go ahead and nod off, I’ll be here.”

“Rem-“

“I can hold down the fort, you know. My incredible humility prevents me from sharing my immense capability.”

“Remy. Look at me?”

“‘Course, I’d never complain about getting to- woah!” He jumped slightly when Logan took a light hold of his jaw, not daring to pull away.

“You mean that literally, don’t you?” Logan swallowed, all of his late nights or totally sleepless ones crashing back with a wave of a guilt to accompany them. “You are incapable of sleeping until everyone in the mind palace is no longer awake.”

Remy shrugged and opened his mouth, as if preparing a snarky comeback. Instead, what came out was, “It’s my job.”

Logan pushed Remy’s sunglasses up into his hair carefully, revealing dark, watery eyes shadowed by sleepless nights too numerous to count. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “that you feel the need to use caffeine to stay awake.”

“I’m so goddamn tired, Logan,” the poorly named figment whispered, head falling forward to rest against Logan’s chest. “I can’t even take naps, it’s so fucking miserable…”

Logic softened, lifting his arms after a moment to wrap them around Remy. One hand cradled the back of his head as his body trembled against Logan’s and he let out a single, shuddering sob. “I know. We are- I am going to set a more steady sleep schedule. For all of us, including you. Would that be alright?”

Sleep nodded slightly against him, sitting up enough to try and rub his face. Logan lifted a tissue. “May I?” At another nod, he wiped Remy’s eyes, then handed it to him. “Blow. I will return with some water.” He pulled away slowly, then left the room after pausing to glance back.

Upon his return, Logan found Remy still sitting up smirking a little at something on his phone. He tried not to focus on how nice the figment’s eyes looked now that he could actually see them. He offered him the glass of water instead, then slid onto the bed next to him. “Drink at least half,” he advised.

Remy nodded, downed the water according to his orders, then wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. “Thanks, L.”

“No need. Lie back.”

“Dominant, are we?”

“Remy, lie back before I push you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m doing it. No need to get your tie in a twist.” He shifted to lay on his side, eyes still a bit teary. Logan reached out a hand to wipe them away gently. The tears. Remy’s eyes remained stationary. He tugged Remy’s shades from his hair and placed them on the nightstand next to his own glasses.

“Good. Relax, I am going to sleep so that you can. Please take advantage of it.” 

“I will.”

“Good.” Logan closed his eyes, lying down as well. He scooted a bit closer to Remy to wrap an arm over him from behind, no matter how it made his skin burn with heat. No one else was around to see.

“Night, babe,” Remy whispered, and that was the last thing Logan heard until morning.

The next day, the two would share knowing glances while going about their daily tasks. Logan would present his sleep schedule, Remy would deny everything that happened the previous night, and then eventually he would confess the nature of his powers. He would receive shock and some concern, and everyone would abide to Logan’s plan. And everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

[amarabliss]

Galahdian Dreams - 4 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three

(Gif credit amarabliss)

“Scourge….” Nyx sat next to you looking at an old new paper clipping a bulb had been wrapped in, “Scooourrrgeee…What is it? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this word around the city.”

“You’ve never heard of scourge? Starscrouge…” He looked at you as you leaned back on your heels, “Really?”

“Uh…is it a rock band or something?” He watched your eyes get wider as you stared at him in disbelief. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s a look you gave him a lot over the last month. Apparently Galahd and Insomnia were different in a lot of ways, most of what you had considered everyday knowledge was news to him and his fellow Galahdians.

“No…” You shook your head before pulling off your gardening gloves, “No…Nyx it’s uh a very scary disease, it has an almost 100% fatality rate.”

“What?” He looked at the paper clipping headline again ‘Scourge enters city limits,’ “This is…like from a year ago. What happened?”

“I don’t really recall…” You frowned shaking your head, “I wasn’t exactly coherent at the time, but cases here in the city are low as far as I know. Only an Oracle can cure it, and right now there’s only two in the world, Queen Sylva and Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae.”

“There’s only two people in the entire world that save people from a death disease…” Nyx shook his head looking up at the sky through the greenhouse glass, “Maybe someone up there should rethink the math…”

“I don’t disagree with you.” You sighed shaking your head, “If they really cared they would have prevented the meteor that causes the disease to begin with…it would solve a lot of problems actually.”

“No meteor, no deamons.” Nyx gave you a sad smile, “Well the gods are on my shit list again.”

“Do they really ever get off the shit list?” You smirked as you stood up putting away your tools.

“Oh! Is that a joke?” Nyx laughed a little as you shrugged, “I’ll be damned…the lady has a sense of humor.”

“I’m not always a political guru…” You wiped your hands on your apron, how you never got you clothes dirty impressed him. He’d helped you a couple times and Drautos had to give him another talking to, luckily just warnings this time due to the nature of it all.

“No obviously not.” He stood up looking at you, smirk growing as he talked “You’re also a gardener who apparently moonlights as a comedian.”

“Ha ha…the Glaive thinks he’s so funny…” You rolled your eyes picking up your gardening box, “Can you please spritz everything?”

“Spritz! Spritzing!” He could hear you giggling as you walked away and he picked up the hose misting everything you had just planted. He found guarding you extremely easy and natural. Especially since you let your wall down some.

He still had to fight you to open up, but it wasn’t as difficult as he initially thought it would be. Okay that was a lie he kept telling himself to not just grab you and start shaking you. All in all, he enjoyed the quiet you created around yourself.

“Why can’t he just leave it alone!?” His head snapped over toward the small shed you had walked over to. Bushes blocked his view of you and whoever you were yelling at.

He dropped the hose taking off into a sprint as another voice began to raise over yours. His hand fell to his kukris as he took a deep breath reminding himself to see the situation first before acting.

“Y/N, you have a responsibility-” Nyx moved around the bushes that had blocked his view seeing a councilmember. His face was red in anger as he tried to tower over you.

“You!” You pointed in his face making him step back. Good for you, Nyx thought to himself, “And everyone else are the ones who pushed me off to the sidelines when Regis stepped in. You all found my worth next to nothing with out the power of the crystal. Now you want to parade me around like a piece of meat…to be handed of to some highborn schmuck! I won’t do it!”

“Y/N, this is not a request from me but the king…” He man reached for your hand and you recoiled.

“Whoa hey…” Nyx stepped in between the two of you, “Walk away, sir.”

“You do not get to order me around.” The man glared at him, “This is a matter…”

“This is a matter that is clearly done.” Nyx shut him down as he glanced back to you, “Ma’am, I believe we’re running late.”

You took in a deep breath looking at him nodding slowly as you caught his drift, “Yes…we are…”

Nyx smirked as you tore of your apron slamming it into the man’s chest as you walked past. As he followed you the man latched on to his arm stopping him, “Learn your place lahdy…”

“What did you just say, Randall?” They both looked at you. Your face was turning red with rage. Nyx had never seen this side of you before and he hoped he’d never be in the receiving end of it. The way your eyes darkened, and hair seemed to stand on end…it was terrifying.

“My lady…” He began to backpedal quickly taking his hand back.

“You should be ashamed of yourself! If my father we’re still alive…” You stepped toward him but was intercepted. Nyx was looking down into your eyes with a cool calmness, “Nyx…”

Nyx felt his chest burn with fire that he couldn’t act on, but he would be the better man. He had to be the better man, “Good day, sir.”

You didn’t resist him as he escorted you out and he didn’t speak as you both walked down the hall. Finally, after putting in some distance from the greenhouse, you spoke breaking the tense silence between the two of you, “Nyx…”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off quickly. It wasn’t fine, it would never be fine.

“No, it’s not!” You stopped looking at him with such a heartbreaking ache, at least there was one person in this city that didn’t look at him like he was dirt, “What Randall did…Nyx…I’m so sorry…”

“I’m fine…what’s a racial slur among councilmembers…” As much as he wanted to play it off that everything was okay. It wasn’t, belittling others because they were different never would be. Hostilities against his people were rising and it was worrying, “At least I didn’t get spit on. Today is a good day.”

He watched you hang your head, “This…this is so wrong…my father is turning in his grave.”

“Yeah, probably, but not much we can do about it.” He stepped closer to you a playful smile appearing on his lips, “I mean if you wanna make me feel better…”

“I will not…” You raised your eyes to meet his trying not to smile, “I will not give into your demands.”

“But I was just insulted…I deserve it.” Nyx smirked wiggling his eyebrows, “And that wonderful sweet lady of a cook never tells you no.”

You rolled your eyes before nodding, “Well…I suppose I could use some chocolate cake right now too…”

Nyx drew his elbow in while making a fist in victory before he asked his question, “So…before I rushed in…who was serving you up and for what?”

You shook your head frowning, “The King has requested my presence at a gathering…a ball actually…where several candidates will be present to consider me for marriage…”

“Marriage? Seriously?” His eyes widened as he shook his head, “Shouldn’t he be marrying off his own son first?”

“I’m sure Noctis will also be suffering through this as well.” You smiled sadly, “And I apparently still have some value in this place.”

Nyx stopped the outside the kitchen door touching your arm gently, “Hey…”

You stopped looking at him with your beautiful eyes. Shit everything about you was elegant and perfection. He wished he was in a position to help you see that. You smiled at him reassuringly, “I’m alright, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant in the game of it all.”

“Ah right, just checking.” He nodded before opening the door entering first, looking around at all the cooks and kitchen staff, seeing no threat he stepped aside, “Ma’am…”

“Ma’am? Aren’t we…�� You stopped as you stepped inside seeing your cousin, “Noctis?”

“You get the memo too?” Noct looked at you from the counter cake in hand.

“Yeah…let me guess…” Nyx watched as you hopped up on the counter next to him, “Straight from Dad with a speech of being responsible…”

“Sup man.” Nyx turned his head as Gladio walked over to him handing a piece of delicious looking cake, “Perks of the job, right?”

Nyx took it lifting the fork that was unceremoniously stabbed in the center of the cake out, “Yeah, only when her grace finds it appropriate to sneak in here.”

“I remember, trust me it gets better. The fact you haven’t been fired yet is a good sign.” Gladio told him before taking a big bite.

“You remember?” Nyx glanced over to you rubbing Noct's shoulders.

“Uh…yeah, I was supposed to be her shield and I was for a couple of years once I passed my Crownesguard training.” Gladio looked him a dimness coming to his eyes, “I wasn’t…I…”

Nyx looked at him taking in a deep breath before turning around to block him from everyone’s view, “I am sure there is perfectly good reason why you weren’t there that night. Don’t dwell on it.”

“My sister got sick…and my dad was with King Malcolm…” Gladio frowned looking over to you, “She was so kind about it…go, be with Iris…I should have…”

“Stop.” Gladio met Nyx's gaze, “You can’t do that…you can’t live with what ifs, it’ll stop you from doing your job now and that’s protecting the Crown Prince.”

“…you sound like you know a thing or two about it.” Gladio stared at him as he looked away. Nyx looked back when he sighed, “I guess it’s none of my business…but…eats me up sometimes. I still feel really protective of Y/N…I would still be protecting her if…well I’m sure you know now..”

Nyx nodded a he poked at the cake on the plate, “Yeah…I don’t get how that works…she’s definitely a Lucis. I mean she got a lot of he mother’s looks, but there’s no way she’s not Malcolm’s.”

“I know what you mean. What they put her through to prove it though…fuck man…” Gladio sighed heavily, “I just had to sit by and watch.”

“What do you mean? They didn’t just run a blood test?” Nyx set the cake down as Gladio gave him new information.

“No…they pretty much put her on a public trial going through every single detail of her life from birth to present.” Gladio shook his head a protective anger coming to his eyes, “I was getting so pissed for her. They tracked down everyone in the delivery room that day…it was a fucking circus.”

Nyx looked over seeing you smile and nudge Noct with your arm as Gladio went on, “Tried dragging King Malcolm through the mud too. Thankfully my dad and Cor stepped in shutting down the accusations of infidelity immediately. The last thing was the test…by that time they had smeared Y/N's name so much it didn’t matter that she was the heir. Power or no powers…no one deserved that.”

“That’s politics for ya…” Nyx looked at him, “It was the same back home. Everyone has something to gain. Selena was just really good at seeing through the bullshit.”

“You knew Queen Selena? Were you her guard?” Gladio looked at him wide eyed.

“Something like that.” Nyx nodded as he leaned against the counter crossing his arms watching you and Noct, “They’re really close, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, after Noct’s mom passed, Y/N took him under her wing a little.” Gladio nodded smiling, “We were all going through something back then. Together we all kind of figured it out.”

“I’m glad to know that she’s got some support in this place when I’m not here.” Nyx rattled off absently.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gladio raised his eyebrows a little.

Nyx looked him and quickly smiled, “You know when she gets stressed and just needs someone to vent to. This paper she is working on…yeesh…”

It was a quick save this time and it answered more questions he had. You carried your burdens alone, but helped everyone carry theirs. He hoped he could help with the weight of yours.

He stood up straight when you hopped off the counter speaking to Noct, “Come now, I’m sure you’ll meet a wonderful young woman at the ball.”

“I’m 17…I don’t wanna think about marriage…” Noct stood up slowly sliding off holding the edge of the counter, “He’s practically arranged it anyway…”

“What? With who?” You crossed your arms looking at him, eyebrows coming together.

“Luna…” Noct blushed deeply.

“Well it’s not a terrible match.” You smirked a little, “She does like you…”

“She’s just so much older then me…” Noct rubbed the back of his neck.

“They say with age comes experience…perhaps she’s exactly what you need.” Noct groaned letting his head fall forward. You frowned before you stepped to him giving him a tight hug, “No matter what, Noct, trust your heart before your head and your decision won’t come back to haunt you.”

Nyx smiled a little as the prince hugged you back before Gladio pulled him back, “So you excited for this ball?”

“Ball? You mean we have to attend?” Nyx looked at him wide eyes.

“Oh dude…” Galdio winced at his reaction, “we should grab a drink later and talk. I’ll fill you right in.”

And they did…and Nyx was glad for it. Right after he called Drautos right after…

“Did you know about all this? They have protocol after protocol…” Nyx stopped looking both ways before crossing the street, “it’s like they want us to fail and make a spectacle of ourselves.”

“They do.” Nyx stopped balling up his hand as he listened, “Nyx we have no representation…we’re immigrants who only get to stay as long as we’re useful.”

“This isn’t how it should be…” Nyx sighed.

“Then do something about.” Drautos words sent him into instant anxiety.

“Titus…” Nyx couldn’t find the right words this time.

Drautos sighed before speaking, “I’ll reach out to Clarus to verify everything you were told by his son; it seems like he’s raised him to be like himself so hopefully he’ll be just as forthcoming. Thankfully we have few days and I can sort it all out.”

“Thank you…be safe on your way back home tonight.” Nyx told him.

“You as well sir.”

He hung up before he corrected him. Not that it would matter, Titus would always see him the same way. He managed to get everything arranged and set up correctly for the ball with Clarus' help.

He swore up and down that someone was supposed to have sent it over from the council meeting. No one was surprised the procedures didn’t find their way to their destination.

Despite that, Nyx stood outside your quarters waiting for you to finish getting ready for the whole damn thing. The past two days were not easy for you.

When you wanted peace and quiet someone always found you asking you questions about the ball. What you should and shouldn’t wear, hair style recommendations, make-up tutorials. You managed not to yell at any of the attendants, but Nyx could see how frustrated you were getting and with precision class you finally broke…

“You know what…I trust you to make the right decisions.” You placed your hands over the young woman’s hands. For the last two hours this young woman named Anita was bombarding you with everything, expressing how important this event was, “After all, you are the best at what you do Anita, and you wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me. I place everything in your exceptionally well manicured hands.”

“Really?” Nyx had to hold back his laughter from how giddy the Anita looked before she leaned forward hugging you tight, “I won’t let you down!”

“I’m sure you won’t.” You sighed as you watched her run off.

“I think you’re gonna live to regret that.” Nyx chuckled as you turned back to your book.

You gave him a look that spoke volumes more then this library could hold, “Of that I have no doubt. You have to pick your battles sometimes and this is one that I’m willing to give in.”

Nyx took in a deep breath trying to remember everything they had gone over in the briefing earlier. Exits in case of any situation, proper space between yourself and your charge, and uniform. He pulled at his collar again. He’d much rather be in the battle attire, but protecting a royal meant always looking good.

He came to attention as your door opened. You voice sounded exasperated, “Sorry…I don’t do the whole ball thing very well…and Anita went a little overboard I feel like…”

“It’s fine, I’m sure…” He turned his head to look at you and he found no words would ever adequately describe what he saw before him.

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Shadowhunters AU

Brienne of Tarth has been quite busy at the King’s Landing Institute. The Clave assigned the young Shadowhunter a new case to investigate. Mundanes were murdered in odd fashion, a mixture of signatures one would associate with demons, warlocks and the like. Brienne travels to the latest crime scene, surprised to see someone already examining it, the infamous Jaime Lannister, the only honorably discharged Shadowhunter. He killed the former head of the King’s Landing Institute, Aerys Targaryen, and as a result was thrown out.

“Go to hell, Lannister. You are not allowed anywhere near Clave operations.”

“Have already been there, don’t fancy revisiting it. Thanks a lot.”

“Why are you here anyway?”

“Interest? And I am of interest to you because I may happen to have some valuable information, though you will have to ask me for it, nicely, I may add.”

“I think I can handle on my own.”

“I’ll be here once you realize that you need me… what was your name again?”

“None of your business.”

“Odd name. Is it Braavosi?”

“None of you business.”

“You can call me Jaime, just Jaime.”

Brienne just leaves the man standing where he is to investigate for herself. However, to her great dismay, the latest victim does no give her any new clues. When she walks back she is not really surprised but still irritated by the fact that the Kingslayer still lurks around the crime scene, looking at her oh so smugly. Begrudgingly, she asks him for the information he claimed to have. If he has some valuable intel, it is her obligation to obtain it, after all. Her opinion of him should not stand in the way of that.

“There’s one trademark achingly absent from this, wouldn’t you agree?”

“… No Seelie signature.”

“Would seem odd to me that if someone were to pain all Downworlders as bad, that someone would conveniently leave out those nasty always-telling-the-truth-though-not-really Seelies.”

“And do you have anything to support your hypothesis?”

“I may.”

“And you won’t share?”

“I don’t think you have asked me nicely yet.”

“I am fairly sure I did not, because I had no intention to.”

“But you want that intel, don’t you?”

“If you can’t give it, I doubt you even have it, in which case you still remain a waste of my valuable time.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“An educated guess.”

Brienne remains irritated by the man, but against many, many odds, he apparently has some valuable information that may prove vital to the case, leading all the way back to Seelie King Jaqen H’ghar.

Dutifully, Brienne reports back to the ops, leaving a very disappointed Jaime behind as he was hoping she’d at least treat him a coffee for his troubles, but no such luck. Head of the Institute Ned Stark is pleased to hear about the progress on the case she’s made but shows little enthusiasm once she tells him about the unexpected help she received from the Kingslayer.

“He’s up to no good,” he warns her.

“I am aware, but he helped me find evidence I needed to put things together. And I honestly thinks we are on to something bigger than the involvement of the Seelies in the latest attacks.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you will stay away from him in the future, though. That man cannot be trusted, and he has any reason to have something against us, against the Clave. We don’t know what his motivation is.”

“I have any intention to stay clear of him, but if meeting the Kingslayer again serves the Law, I will do what it takes to uphold it, Sir.”

With that, Brienne leaves the office to continue putting her report into writing. She runs into Ned’s daughters Arya and Sansa.

They grey on her by now, and Brienne started to feel responsible for them after their father was gone for a long time, having left everyone, his children included, under the belief that he died like his wife and son and his son’s wife did. Warlock Petyr Baelish collaborated against Ned after Robert’s demise, and it was owed to Varys’s quick thinking and passing him off as dead that bought them the necessary time to get Ned out of the dangerzone and find the people behind the plot. Ever since, things have been strained between the last of the Starks, to say the least, as the girls did not take kindly to the loss of their father and his sudden, unexpected return. While he was gone, Arya in particular joined a dark path, ran away and spent far too much time with the Seelies instead of fellow Shadowhunters. Sansa barely speaks to her father and retreated into herself, focusing most of her attention on handling the administrative duties she was assigned. Brienne took care of the girls after Arya returned to the Institute, for reasons unknown, and while the girls struggle, they grew to have some trust the tall, mannish woman. However, as much as they may have grown to trust Brienne they learned to mistrust their father. Ned, ever since, failed to reconnect with his children. And the fact that he became head of the Institute does not necessarily help the matter as he has little time to spend with his family even though all are in desperate need for just that. Brienne continues to push him, but to no avail.

The man is even more stubborn than she is, and that surely means something.

The blonde Shadowhunter goes back to her usual routines thereafter, but strange occurrences drive her out of the office out into the streets sooner rather than later, as evidence keeps suggesting to her that there is an uprising that may connect to the Night King whom all thought was defeated during the last Long Night. However, that was such a long time ago that people only see it as legend now, though Brienne is afraid that this legend may come to haunt them again if they don’t do something.

And as much as she hates it, this is damn well close to what the Kingslayer suggested to her back when he offered some intel during the Seelie case. He was the only one she ran into until now who had a similar suspicion.

Not knowing where else to turn with her theories, as authorities remain indifferent to her suspicions, Brienne tracks down the Kingslayer. However, disappointment soon overtakes her surge of enthusiasm as she finds Jaime drunk and miserable about himself after a rough night of “memories, too many memories,” as he lulls at her. Brienne isn’t having it and tells the man to get himself together if he means to stay true what he told her, wanting to solve that mystery as much as she. Jaime sobers up somewhat once he realizes just how serious the woman is, not just bothering to track him down but now also expecting better of him.

He didn’t have people put faith in him in a long, long time, after all.

“We have a common goal and the Clave won’t give the orders to further investigate unless I bring the evidence needed. If what you and I came up with turns out to be true, even to the smallest degree, then we may have the second Long Night on our hands and we have to stop it. It may well be that there may be a new uprising of the living dead we banished beyond the Wall. And as much as I hate to admit, you got further down the road than I did with my methods.”

“So that means you trust me?”

“I am willing to have a truce with you.”

“A truce.”

“We both have a common goal, which is to figure out what is going on with the murders, what’s the reason behind it all,” she tells him. “A truce would allow us to work together for this case only.”

“A truce… it does have a nice ring to it.”

“If you think so, meet me tomorrow and sleep off your hangover because I am here for business, not to become your personal nanny.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jaime keeps true to his word and shows up at his most presentable the next day, quick to suggest to Brienne that if they want to get to the bottom of this, they have to reach beyond “familiar turfs and venture through the neighbors’ gardens,” which is his way of telling her that they should consult with Downworlders. Brienne is not particularly pleased about that as she was taught to stay clear of them the best she can but tags along anyway.

The Kingslayer brings her to the Dwarf Warlock of King’s Landing. It is only once she sees the two together that Brienne pieces together that this warlock is Tyrion and that Tyrion is Jaime’s brother. As they explain to her, Tyrion was abandoned after his warlock mark was discovered. Tywin had Jaime believe that Tyrion passed away from sickness but actually had him brought away to be with the warlocks instead.

“I am a thing of curiosity in all worlds there are. To the mundanes, I am a simple dwarf with a drinking problem. To my father and sister, I am a monster. To the Shadowhunters I am a warlock with dangerous abilities… and to the warlocks I am a danger all the same as I am the only warlock born from the union of two Shadowhunters, which is a thing of impossibility.”

“Which is why he started getting drunk to cope. I don’t think you’ve ever been sober since you came of age.”

“And I have no intention to start now.”

Jaime found him on a mission when he was younger and still a Shadowhunter out of the handbook when he was working a case. The two agreed to keep it a secret that they are brothers because they would not want to risk Tywin learning that Jaime and he got back together. After all, the man was willing to abandon Tyrion and tell Jaime that he died only just to know them apart.

“And Father won’t ever manage that again, we’ll see to that.”

After Jaime broke with the Clave, he spent most of his time doing nothing, waiting for the end of the Shadow World because he believes it is meant to go down, was always meant to be: “It started with Aerys and it ends with another bad guy. Fire or ice, all the same. In the end, the Shadow World is fucked and I am just here to watch the fireworks.”

Brienne calls him out on that because he came to the scene on his own. “Seems like you give a damn after all.”

“How daring of you to accuse me of caring for anyone but myself, wench.”

“An educated guess.”

Tyrion starts to take interest in not just the case his brother got himself into but also the female Shadowhunter who came to them for help. A little bit of digging around reveals some interesting information about her, namely that she is also known as the Kingslayer, a title both brothers thought was quite unique to Jaime’s case only.

When the leads keep them off the tracks and frustration starts to spread, Jaime and Brienne get into a heated argument, which soon ebbs into Jaime revealing Tyrion’s research about her and asking the really uncomfortable questions of why she is called that and why she never told him that they are “one and the same” after all.

“I am called Kingslayer still even though my case was cleared. We are not the same. I was accused of having murdered Renly Baratheon, but the charges were dropped because of a lack of evidence.”

“Which means they didn’t actually prove your innocence but just didn’t have enough against you to take your runes away.”

“I didn’t do it. Stannis did, but I don’t have the evidence to prove it and bring him to justice before the Law.”

Brienne always dreamed about becoming Renly's parabatai and hoped that he would choose her once it was time, but before Renly could even choose a partner of that sort, he was murdered. Her father wanted her to take over the Institute on Tarth as his successor, but she declined and instead went to King's Landing to stick to Cat after she helped her through the Renly trial and was supportive of her when no one else was. To repay the debt, Brienne felt all the more compelled to take care of Sansa and Arya when Catelyn passed away and they didn’t yet know that their father was still alive.

She wasn’t ready to become head of an Institute, and in Brienne’s mind, that moment won’t ever come as she doesn’t believe herself to be made of the stuff it takes to run an institute: “I don't have charisma, I don't know how to deliver great speeches to inspire people. I know how to fight. I know how to be a Shadowhunter. That is all I will ever be, and that is fine with me. That means I can devote myself to protecting the people I love.”

After that fight, the two feel a closer connection since ever as they now trust one another with their darkest secrets, even more so when Jaime reveals some of the circumstances behind his act of treason that got him dispelled.

And soon, feelings of distrust and misgiving become increasingly replaced by care and… something much stronger, something both actually gave up on long time ago, until they found it again – just with one another.

However, trouble is only ever just a step away as evidence keeps suggesting they are on the right track and they are running out of time to prevent the Long Night. Both have to face some inner demons as they have to confront their past and present, Jaime having to face up against Ned Stark and Brienne having to come to terms with the circumstances of Renly’s death.

When the two discover what has to be done in order to save not just their world but of all others, mundanes and Downworlders alike, and how much sacrifice that may mean not just for themselves but for them together, it puts not just their devotion to the cause to the test but also forces them into the tough choice of how far they are willing to go for duty, if love the price for it.

[alleiradayne]

Bang Your Head (Cullen x F!Trevelyan Modern AU) Part 69

Catch up on the previous part - part 68 | ao3 Start from the beginning - part 1 | ao3

At last, Duncan brings everyone up to speed.

The den was cozy, intimate and warm. Dark red walls and pale carpet paired with a low ceiling, rich cedar book shelves surrounded Amallia as though she were in an actual bear den, except for the wet bar in the far corner.

And there, leaning against the polished cedar rail, stood Alistair, holding a wide, shallow glass, empty but for the last swallow of brown liquor at the bottom. His white shirt hung open, buttons at the neck undone with a loosened green tie. Navy slacks clung to his hips, his belt missing. Brown oxfords covered navy argyle socks, one ankle exposed by a leg propped on a bar stool.

Eyes the color of warm honey brightened as he spotted them, a soft smile hooking one corner of his mouth. And though he saw them both, he lingered on Cullen a moment longer before hefting a tray of drinks from the bar.

“Alistair, sit, I’ll take care of it,” Duncan admonished and Alistair obeyed, turning back for the couch and taking a seat beside Cullen. Amallia sat to his left, and Tanya took up a chair beside them as she spoke.

“I understand you’re in the middle of an investigation,” she asked, addressing Cullen. “But you don’t work for Duncan, though?” she clarified as she folded her burgundy cotton dress between her crossed knees.

Cullen shook his head. “No, ma’am. I was … indirectly involved with the shooting,” he explained. “Alistair and Amodisia asked that the security firm I work for, REDIS, provide extra security that day.”

“Evidently,” Alistair added, “I’d been right about that hunch. Just wanted to make sure everyone knows that I was right. The diner was a stupid idea.”

Cullen turned to him with an irritated scoff. “The diner was your stupid idea.”

“I never said it wasn’t, it absolutely was my terrible idea,” he agreed. “Still, I reached out to Cullen’s firm in September to keep up with the investigation. Redcliffe PD wasn’t …”

He cut off with a click of his teeth, eyeing Duncan with a guilty frown. Laden with the tray of drinks, he rejoined them, sitting in his own chair beside Alistair. Dower, his hooded glare and angular cheekbones cut an intimidating figure, all framed by thick black hair. Square and strong, his bearded jaw ground as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the neck of his white captain’s shirt.

“Redcliffe PD was doing absolutely nothing,” he finished his governor’s thoughts. “I knew something was wrong immediately. I just wish it hadn’t taken you as long to come to the same conclusion.”

Alistair grunted. “I was preoccupied. And terrified for Sia.”

Maker’s breath, she’d nearly forgotten about Amodisia. “Where is she, Alistair?”

Alistair gave her a reassuring pat on the knee. “Not to worry, she’s at home in Denerim. The manor is heavily guarded and has one of the most advanced security systems. She’s safe.”

Amallia glared at him. “Does she know you’re here?”

Alistair dug his phone from his pocket and tossed it to her as he picked up a drink from the tray. Amallia read the long conversation between Alistair and his wife starting earlier that afternoon. When she finished, two drinks remained on the tray, a short tumbler with reddish brown liquor and a large chunk of ice, the other filled with clear liquor and overloaded with crushed ice.

“Is this safe?” she asked as she returned his phone to him and picked up the dark drink.

“Dagna wrote it,” Alistair explained. “Some ridiculously complex program that I’m not able to explain, she said it would be the safest way to communicate while I was away.”

“Dagna?” Duncan asked. “My Dagna?”

Alistair rolled his eyes once more, sarcastic as ever. “Yes, your Dagna. I needed a closed channel to communicate with Sia while I was away and Dagna came through,” he explained, then returned his warm gaze to her. “Trust me, Mal, I know what she means to you. To us,” he assured her. “But she also wants this case solved. So, I’m not stopping for anything. If a lead comes up, I’m following it.”

Cullen perked up at that, swallowing a short sip of his drink. “Speaking of leads, why didn’t you just call me?”

Alistair looked from him to Duncan with a confident grin. “Would you like the honors? You tell it much better than I do.”

Duncan stood before them, picking the remaining glass from the tray and handing it to his wife. She smiled her thanks, then sipped from the tumbler as she settled in for Duncan’s explanation. The chief of remained standing, towering over them as he regaled them with his insider’s information.

“From May to August, the case was worked like any other,” he began. “Evidence was collected, logged, analyzed, and filed away. Given the staggering number of leads, I thought my detectives had this one in the bag,” he explained. “Boxes upon boxes of interviews, video and audio recordings of the event, eye-witnesses, and mounds of documentation.”

Cullen snarled at the last, hackles rising in fury. “They lied,” he spat. “It was a façade to make everyone believe they were investigating. Most of that evidence was just useless cannon fodder for anyone insane enough to try to sort it all out. They did it to derail the investigation.”

“Permanently,” Alistair added.

Duncan frowned as he continued. “I am partly to blame for that,” he started with a ragged sigh. “I knew it was happening and I could have put an end to it, could have stepped in and cleaned it all up. But, I didn’t want to tip my hand. As far as the two detectives were aware, they took care of everything and nobody knew otherwise.”

He fell silent then, arms folding across his chest and eyes staring ahead unseeing. A sip from his drink was robotic, wrote, like a program his mechanics followed without question. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet, Amallia leaned closer to hear him.

“There wasn’t enough evidence to implicate the detectives,” Duncan continued. “By the time I realized there was a problem, it was too late. Most of the evidence that would have netted us the shooter or his employer was destroyed. And I couldn’t let on that I knew. It wasn’t just about the shooting anymore. There was a cover-up.”

Amallia interjected then, unable to remain quiet. “So, you sent in a … reverse mole to plant the Warden Capitals document.”

As if she had breathed new life into him, Duncan’s eyes brightened. “Precisely,” he agreed, eager once more. “If I could prove the detectives were intentionally sabotaging the case, then I could expose them.”

“And,” Amallia began as she stood, “that’s leverage. You could find out who put them up to it.”

“We could,” Duncan started, “but that would require hard evidence to even bring them in for questioning and –”

“But we have hard evidence,” Amallia interrupted, struggling to keep quiet in her excitement. “Alistair sent it to Cullen just a few days ago. It all ties out; where the money came from, filtered through Warden Capitals, and then where it went.”

Cullen’s side-eyed glare of warning stung, deflating her excitement. They were so close, how could he let a partial truth bother him? The police could investigate the missing money later, when they had an actual case.

“Alistair, I want nothing more than to help,” Duncan began, “but you’ve got to swear to me you have concrete evidence.”

“I will when you let me talk to your mole,” Alistair stated with a smirk.

“You mean when Cullen talks to my mole,” Duncan corrected, “seeing as that he’s the only licensed private investigator in the room. Amallia, I hope you’ve been extremely careful, you really should not be involved at all.”

“I ah,” she stuttered as she returned to her seat, another hole punched in her bubble. “I only know what Cullen’s discussed with me. I’ve helped him look at what those detectives considered evidence, but I think the investigation, at this point, is beyond legal protection given what they did to it, no?”

A crooked, yet thoughtful smile spread across his lips, leaving her confused. “Ever thought about a career in law?”

Void take her, but she gaped. “I would make for a terrible lawyer,” she excused. “Not to mention, the work seems a little boring,” she added with a jab at Cullen. “All that paper work …”

Duncan chuckled, a knowing sound. “You’re not wrong,” he started. “Well, then, it seems we have an actual case on our hands again. Cullen, I’ll put you in contact with my man. Alistair, you may want to head home tonight, yet.”

“Yes, sir,” Alistair said, deferential to his mentor as usual. “Another drink wouldn’t hurt? For the road?”

Duncan accompanied him to the bar, an arm around his shoulders as they talked of a time years ago, remembered with fond reverence.

[beingsecure]

Enriched & Enlightened #PSOSMatIIITH

Being Master’s student in the field of information security at IGDTUW, My main focus of interest is “Right of BEing SECure”. To work in the same direction of an applied domain of security and privacy, the first name comes to one’s mind is Social media. It's natural as you can see your friends, family members, and relatives etc. face many security and privacy issue on such social networking platforms. Being Information security student, it’s my moral duty to learn and use skills to build up such system which can give an essence of being secure.

For the same cause, I was fortunate to join summer school on Privacy and Security in Online Social Media at IIITH organized by Precog research under the supervision of PK sir.

#PSOSMatIIITH was not only hash tag on social media, it was like a shower of knowledge in every desirable dimension in the field on online social networks(OSN), which results in a rainbow of different aspects of security, privacy, and sociology in the context of OSNs.

The journey began in the way that my Guide Prof. Rishabh Kaushal told us about this summer school on PSOSM and boost up students to join it to explore eternity of different issue of OSNs. As I was already familiar with PK sir’s work as being his NPTEL student for #PSOSM course, so I decided to join #PSOSMatIIITH. Along with me, there were 14 more students from my college IGDTUW, who joined this summer school with same enthusiasm from 3rd JULY 2017 to 7th July 2017.

This summer school made happen so many things to me first time like my first flight and first ever time being in Hyderabad that too in IIIT.

#DAY0- After letting feet in IIITH on 2nd JULY 2017- there is ‘technical issue solving session’ by PreCog’s http://precog.iiitd.edu.in/ mentors team which had reached one day before us to help us at max. Almost all queries were solved by mentors and everything was setup for the beginning of summer school.

#DAY1-

Breakfast at IIITH mess was yummy, and I was totally in flavor of #PSOSMatIIITH after getting #PSOSMatIIITH kit ;)

The introduction of summer school: PK sir explained us – WHY we are here, what should be our aim and how should we gain max out of this summer school.

Dr. Vasudev Verma sparked the wisdom to do great in summer school by calling us “SOCIAL MEDIA Soldier”, whose fight is against unwanted elements over different OSNs.

Mr. ROB Sherman (DP officer at FACEBOOK), gave his talk about dedicated efforts of Facebook in direction of “making privacy personal”. QA session was mind blowing as new ideas were there on the desk. After his talk, there was a short break, which was intended to have interaction with speakers. PK Sir’s was the main emphasis was on everyone should get interact with as many intellectuals as possible.  Interaction with Mr. ROB was awesome.

After then, Dr. Krishna Gummadi’s talk was on “Targeted advertising on social Media: Transparency, control, fairness, and privacy.

Now it was the time of getting our hands dirty in lab session under potential mentor Divyansh (Research Associate at IIITD).We have dedicated mentors also for the full day. Every mentor including Anupma, Srishti, Neetu, and Kushagra was so helping that it seriously made life easy at #PSOSMatIIITH.

Next lab session was with Kushagra (Research Associate at IIITD).Mentors were helping everyone for small to big issue. We were gaining hacks from their experience of years, which they gained by hard work in OSNs.

3rd talk on the same day was by Dr. Manish Gupta on “Social Network Analysis”.

In this way, the Full day was caricatured by #PSOSM team as most worthy day.

Another Best thing about summer school was the perfect management of food with exact timings by the administration, special Thanks to Pooja ma’am and prof. Suryakanth v. Gangashetty.

I explained DAY1 in this much detail because I can’t cut it short.

#DAY2: Next day I was full of Zeal and joy to learn more. The day started with Kushagra’   Discussion on various Twitter and Facebook API endpoints, Rate limits & Data Collection from Twitter and Graph API as lab session.

Dr.Vasudev was once again on the floor. We were honored to get light on “Social networks- Noise and signals”.

I was amazed to see what real people were doing in the real world, how they think, how they select problem, how they contribute to making a better online society, how they present their work so elegantly so beautifully. They love to take our question. They just love to satisfy our query. People were getting light on their ideas, getting correct direction and it was feeling to be at the right place with right brains at right time.

After prof. Anupma Joshi's Talk on “Security, privacy, and social Media”, we moved to lab session by Divyansh.

Now PK sir was there to boost up us by collecting manual word cloud of the day, 75+ participants with different grasping of same content were speaking up their point of view on the same platform.

Finally, one more Perfect day added in Hyderabad Diary @PSOSMatIIITH.

#Day3: Day of Ideation -

The third day embedded with Lecture by Dr. Niloy Ganguly on “Computational journalism” and Lab session by Anupma (Ph.D. student at IIITD).

Now it was Ideation session was lunch, yesterday PK sir asked us to prepare our idea to present on the single slide over projector as team/individual project related to online social networks. More than 20 teams presented their ideas in front of all of us. Everyone got direction from PK on their project for this betterment. Our team including four members Astha, Chhavi, Himani and me. We presented our idea on “Scoring false/spam accounts over social media platforms”.

Here I would like to mention one more thing which touched our heart that was supporting staff at IIITH was awesome. They are quite helpful 24*7. They were abided to help us as much as they can in every possible manner. I really want to put my vote of thanks to organizing summer school at IIITH. Seems like Research is in its air.

In nutshell, Ideation session was awesome full of enjoyment with ultimate discussion between presenters and audience, plus added humor by PK sir: D

Finally, one more remarkable day added in Hyderabad Diary @PSOSMatIIITH.

#Day4:

Day started by Dr. Saiket Guha from Microsoft, “An OUT OF THE BOX talk”, most needed one as beginner researcher.

After then, lab session by Srishti (Ph.D. student at IIITD) on Adjusting Visualization Parameters and Basics of Social Network Analysis. Which was like a cherry on the cake of #PSOSMatIIITH learning for the beautiful representation of data.

There was one more talk by Dr.Amitava das, which was exclusively on the relationship of sociology & psychology and online social media. This led towards open challenges and way to think beyond fixed route.

 After class, it was the time when left brain met with the right brain. it was time to get colored in color of Hyderabad. There was a cultural fest organized by famous state artists. They sang beautiful Tamil and Telugu songs plus English ones too.

Finally, one more significant day added in Hyderabad Diary @PSOSMatIIITH.

#DAY5:

D-Day came-

People say time flies, but I must say time spent at #PSOSMatIIITH will remain in the core of the heart and root of the mind.

Now it was time for most awaited talk i.e.; PK sir’s talk. He told about his super exciting projects, works, and publication. He reflected hard work done in collaboration with his student army. His impression is like Research is to see what everybody else has seen, and think what nobody has thought.

Now it was Groufie/selfie time, yes … you got it right “Certification time”. Everyone was getting the certificate of participation in #PSOSMatIIITH from PK sir.

There are few clicks from snapshot of time-

Looking at the photograph urges me to enter in that moment anyhow and re-live those 5 days at PSOSM summer school at IIITH. I tried to put my experience in words which were never ever sufficient to defined place and role of this summer school in my life. It gave me a chance to meet with wonderful persons like Deeksha(My roomie for 5 days in Parul Nivas, IIITH), Sanchit, Alok, Arvind, Ph.D. scholar Lalit and much more. At last, I greatly appreciate IIITD, IIITH, Precog members & our mentors. I am very thankful towards Rishabh sir for guiding us to join PSOSMatIIITH. I am also grateful towards my family and my friends sp. Chhavi and Himani to support me for being in such worthy summer school #PSOSMatIIITH.

At last but not least

PK Sir,

Any Infinite loop of “Thank you” will not be sufficient to convey my humble gratitude towards you. I am blessed to noticed by you, to heard by you and to be guided by you. Thank you so much for organizing such great Life changing #PSOSM at IIITH.

Keep Inspiring, Keep Guiding! 

Congratulations to you and your team!

-With sincere gratitude ~ Vasundhara Ghose

[sportsgameqia-blog-blog]

Youth Sports Part 1: Getting Bad Sports Parents to Behave Better

New Post has been published on https://sportsguideto.com/trending/youth-sports-part-1-getting-bad-sports-parents-to-behave-better/

Youth Sports Part 1: Getting Bad Sports Parents to Behave Better

If you caught even a snippet of Chris Bell’s HBO show Trophy Kids, you likely winced at the scenes of tennis moms and golf dads behaving very badly.

One of the reasons for your discomfort is probably that you feel bad for the kids on the receiving end of such over-the-top “hyper-parenting.” But if you’re a youth sports coach, you might watch Bell’s documentary series nodding your head because, unfortunately, you’ve been subjected to the rants of irate parents who think their kid should be the star player.

There are cultural factors at work here that are far outside the scope of this article. We’re witnessing an “activities arms race” in which all too many parents feel obliged to keep up with the Joneses by filling every second of children’s lives with activity.

This is largely an extension of how we as adults approach our work and personal lives, overstuffing our calendars, over-extending our commitments, and overdosing on our social media feeds in whatever few minutes are left over each day. The perma-stress created by such hectic lifestyles starts to bubble up through the cracks, which we see manifested in the worst possible way in the outbursts on soccer sidelines and Little League bleachers.

Cultural commentary aside, what are we actually going to do about this issue? We might not be able to solve the parenting-related problems of all the 45 million kids who play organized sports in the U.S., but perhaps we can at least help you create a positive, tantrum-free environment for the few you’re committed to coaching. Here goes…

Setting Expectations

It’s arguable that people with frustrated athletic ambitions (think Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite: “If coach would’ve put me in, we would’ve won state.”) make the worst sports parents, as they’re unfairly trying to atone for their own shortcomings by putting pressure on their children to perform. It’s not your role to play counselor and try to sort out the psychological issues of every parent who decides to behave badly on the sideline. On the other hand, you cannot allow them to disrupt your practices and make game day miserable for everyone.

One way to strike a balance is to establish some ground rules from day one said Whitey Nelson who works with everyone from former international players to under-7 youth teams through his club Misfits Rugby.

“We invite everybody to get together at a pre-season meet-and-greet where parents and their kids can get to know me and my assistant coach,” Nelson said. “This gives me the opportunity to find out what they expect from us and our program, and then for us to set expectations for them on and off the field. For example, there’s a reason we always call the referee ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ – because it conveys respect. This meeting also allows us to explain our culture and values, what the kids will get out of rugby, and why they should play in the first place. This helps to set the tone for the season and encourages candid dialogue from day one.”

Building on Nelson’s approach, you should make it clear that while parents are welcome at practice, they cannot interrupt drills or yell at their child, other kids, or you. And they need to stay out of the actual training area.

You might also need to outline the consequences if a parent starts acting up: they’ll be asked to leave.

Having set such a boundary, you must ruthlessly enforce it. If a mom or dad violates a rule, remind them of it, and be clear that if it happens again, there will be consequences. It’s all too tempting for youth coaches to mollify parents because they’re scared of a mutiny or the team falling apart if too many parents turn against them. But just as teachers in the classroom have to differentiate between what’s acceptable (a polite email exchange about a perceived issue) and unacceptable (interfering with grading), so too must the coach.

And when problems do arise, you need to be proactive and tackle them head on.

“We recently had a Dad who was yelling a lot during a game in a way that was inappropriate,” Nelson said. “Afterwards I asked him why he was so frustrated. He explained that his son wasn’t playing enough. I thought about it for a minute and recognized that he was right. So I apologized and resolved to give his child more of an opportunity in the next game. Then I reminded him that I am an unpaid volunteer who’s trying to manage 60 kids across various teams, as well as having a full-time job, coaching adults, and trying to be a good father and husband. Once he realized that I wasn’t being paid and that our lives were pretty similar, it reset his expectations and helped him value my time more. And because I gave him a voice, he felt that he was being listened to.”

Modeling the Behavior You Expect

If you want parents to act politely and courteously toward you, your fellow coaches, and game officials, but you treat them like dirt, you’re going to create a dissonance between what you preach and what you practice. Make sure you’re consistent in leading by example and displaying the kind of behavior you’re asking from parents.

The same extends to the children in your charge. If you scream, criticize, and embarrass, then you’re creating a culture that says it’s OK for their parents to do the same both at your practices/games and away from the court, field, or pitch. Instead, try to instruct firmly but without raising your voice, be a constant encourager, and, if a child has a certain issue, talk to them about it away from the group so you don’t shame them in front of their peers.

Such a modus operandi mimics some of the best coaches in the adult sporting world, according to author Fergus Connolly.

“When I consulted at Liverpool FC, Brendan Rodgers never had a bad word to say to the team but was always positive,” Connolly said. “At Welsh Rugby, Warren Gatland had a similar approach. He didn’t have much to say to the players during training, but when he did speak, it was to encourage and to break tension with humor. He also smiled a lot, which set the tone for the players. Such things are just as effective at the youth level. If you want well behaved and friendly kids and parents, you have to act that way.”

Establishing and Maintaining Lines of Communication

One of the issues with bad sports parents is that they’re constantly trying to tell you how to do your job (or, quite likely, your volunteer-basis vocation). We see this in armchair quarterbacking at practices and even more so at games where parents suddenly become self-appointed experts on everything from formation to tactics to substitution patterns.

And if a mom or dad has played the sport themselves, the issue can be exacerbated because they think this lends them credibility to shoot holes in your coaching, lambast the referees, and yell at the kids.

Try to get ahead of such problems by creating an opportunity for parents to speak their mind outside of practice and away from games. Be clear that you don’t think your coaching is perfect and that you welcome suggestions, but that the time for these is before or after practice, not in the middle of it. If you engage in conversation during these times and proactively seek feedback, you’ll foster positive two-way communication.

You can also provide your email address and, if you’re comfortable with giving it out, your phone number and let parents know you’d welcome the chance to discuss issues.

Preventing a Coaches/Parents Civil War

Once a forceful parent or two turn against their children’s coach, it’s possible for them to poison the well and create an us-and-them divide between their fellow parents and you. To prevent this from happening, you don’t need to become everybody’s best friend, but there are some things you can do to create a sense of comradery and teamwork.

One is to ask volunteers to perform certain tasks, which allows you to delegate responsibility without abdicating.

“The best teams in the world entrust people with responsibility, as it gives everyone a sense of ownership,” Connolly said. “It might be something small, but to the person performing the task, it’s bigger than just picking up cones after practice or helping clean up the locker room. Giving people responsibility makes them feel like they’re a real part of the team and encourages leadership.”

With this in mind, send an email to all parents at the beginning of the season asking people to sign up for certain tasks. Maybe it’s a regular thing like bringing a cooler full of bottled water to each practice or washing game jerseys.

You can also ask for help on the spot as needed. For example, if a one-car family calls to say they can’t make it to practice tonight because their vehicle is in the shop, maybe you fire off a group text asking if somebody can pick the child up and drop them off. Such things foster a sense of community that goes far beyond simply hosting an end-of-year pizza party.

Keeping the Team Together

Despite your best efforts and giving a parent several chances to improve their behavior, there may be a couple of repeat offenders who continue to undermine your team’s values and standards. Rather than kicking them out, Nelson takes a more constructive approach to solving this thorny problem:

“If a parent has behaved disruptively or disrespectfully over and over despite me talking with them, I put the focus back on their son or daughter,” he said.

“I remind them that we’re giving their child the chance not only to learn a wonderful sport, but also to improve as a human being. Is it worth denying their son or daughter this opportunity because they feel the need to yell and scream? Then I explain that my daughters are becoming confident young women who speak up for those who don’t have a voice simply because they’re playing rugby. I ask them to imagine how much their child would grow if they stay with the team. Then I make it clear that for this to happen, the adult needs to start acting like one. If they can’t, we’ll gladly refund their fees. But we’d prefer to remedy the situation and keep them and their kid around. More often than not, we see this mom or dad radically change, and their child thrives.”

Check back soon for part 2 in our youth sports series.

Source

https://blog.trainheroic.com/youth-sports-part-1-getting-bad-sports-parents-to-behave-better