#who came to the sport wishing like anyone to be champions in their own right

[brightlotusmoon]

From the Facebook page 'Gen X':

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I AM GEN X!

I don’t have a “walked up hill, both ways, barefoot, in the snow” story to tell. No one really believed those stories, but it hit me, no kid would believe mine either?

The Nintendo and the the VCR only worked on channel 3.

If you didn’t rewind the movie before returning it, that would probably cost you 25 cents.

Your brain is an egg, your brain on drugs is also an egg, but it’s fried now, ignore that it looks more delicious.

At 10 pm, every night, the TV asked your parents if they knew where you were.

Pizza Hut had table cloths on the tables, a waitress and it seriously was kind of a big deal.

Wendy’s had a salad bar, but not just a salad bar. You could make your own pasta or your own taco, or you could just make a plate of Pepperoni and ranch. That bar was Super!

There was a number you could dial and it would tell you the time, that’s it. That’s all it would do, but it would do that over and over and over.

Once call-waiting was invented you made a plan with your girlfriend or boyfriend at school that day and set a time that one of you would call that number at then the other would call that person at the specified time so they could “click over” where neither of your parents knew you were on the phone because it never rang.

Champion clothes were super cheap and sold at K-Mart. You got made fun of for wearing those clothes.

There was a channel that only played the audio of bad music and it showed, in text form, the weather forecast, it was super helpful in the mornings because it also showed the time.

Pepsi once tried to look cool by becoming transparent, not as a company being transparent. They made Pepsi clear and called it Crystal Pepsi. (Didn’t last long)

Coke thought it needed to be cool by tasting like Pepsi. They come up with a cool name too, New Coke! (Didn’t last long either)

Eggs were good for you, then they were bad for you, then I think they were good for you again, not sure where we landed on that. But there was a song in support of Eggs. It was incredible…edible.

Real news was at 10. Fake news was about cults, hookers, people who saw Bigfoot, ufos and such and they happened early afternoon. Those shows really weren’t considered news until a decade or so later.

Comic books were sold at pharmacies, baseball cards were sold at gas stations.

Professional athletes would be shown on TV using tobacco in damn near every sport. Dipping and/or smoking, literally during the game.

For some reason we all dug claymation Raisins wearing sunglasses while they were singing songs.

If you were ever sick and had to miss school you had to watch “Price is Right” with your grandmother and take a nap or at least go away when her “stories” come on.

Hardware stores and Auto Parts stores would sell rifles and shotguns. Even to a kid.

Most gas stations would sell fireworks, to anyone. Not just the sparklers either, the ones that could destroy a mailbox or a GI JOE, launch a trash can, or completely remove a thumb from a hand.

Also when your were sick, grandparents didn’t have the ear thermometers, they weren’t invented yet, grandmas also didn’t trust you not to bite and break the ones that went under your tongue, so you had lay on a couch with one of the glass ones sticking out of your butt for a few minutes. (I really wish I made that part up)

McDonald’s come out with a sandwich called the McRib, but it wasn’t going to be there long and it would never return. It had onions so we didn’t care if we ever saw it again.

We were also pretty much invisible everyday, until 10 pm.

At 10 pm that commercial came on and reminded our parents that they had kids.

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https://www.facebook.com/share/p/Hc9NeNqxizx3cPA9/?mibextid=oFDknk

[literallymahir]

it’s time to post my nevermoor big bang entry with @okay-hamlet ! just warning you, it’s well over 2000 words

potential cws: basic descriptions of sports fighting, family arguments (it’s the crows after all)

this is also posted on ao3! :)

All their lives, the Crow twins knew there was something different about them. But no one else ever saw that.

Wolfram was always gifted with music. Every instrument he touched seemed to meld with his body, a total mastery of the craft. But the art — that’s where his real talent lay. The music he made was utterly enchanting. He could change anyone’s mood in an instant, just as he wished, almost like the voice of an angel.

Guntram, on the other hand, was especially adept with his fists. In any brawl, playful or not, he always emerged victorious. His movements were so swift that one could hardly see them happen. His strength was so great that he could bring a grown man to his knees. He was already Jackalfax Jiu-Jitsu champion in the under-eighteens.

Despite all this, they both got the sense that their talents weren’t being properly appreciated. Sure, their mother always coddled them, saying ‘How beautiful is my little Wolfy’s voice?’ and ‘Ram, you’ll be a billionaire one day with that strength!’

But outside their small musical and Jiu-Jitsu circles, nobody even knew their faces. They didn’t want to be babied, they were big, nine-year-old boys! They were more than their mother’s shrill praise.

So they decided to do something about it.

One still night, they stayed up after bed-time, carefully waiting until the house was silent…

‘Wolf,’ came a whisper from the dark.

Wolfram replied, even quieter: ‘I’m awake.’

The twins rolled out of bed and convened by the window, opening the curtains to let in the moonlight.

‘So. We both know why we’re here,’ said Ram.

Wolf nodded solemnly. ‘Magic.’

There was no question. They knew magic when they saw it; they’d grown up with stories of great artists and warriors, who could do the impossible with the help of their powers.

‘So we both agree: our talents aren’t just talent?’

‘I always knew it.’

‘I did.’

Wolf made a face at his brother.

‘Wolf, which respected mage has ever made a face at his brother?’

‘Fine. So what do we do about it?’

Guntram said nothing for a while, but he held his brother’s steely stare. Then he said: ‘We prove it.’

‘But everyone already knows what we can do, and they don’t think anything of it,’ Wolf said, looking out at the chilly stars. ‘How can we convince them it’s really magic?’

Ram followed Wolf’s gaze through the window. ‘It has to be something big,’ he said. ‘What’s something we can do that’s impossible without magic?’

Wolf thought for a moment. ‘What if we combined our powers?’

Ram turned back towards Wolf, intrigued.

‘Maybe that would make them so big, they’d have to see it’s magic. What if… I played something that made you so energetic that you could… I don’t know, do what?’

Gram nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’re onto something, Wolf. You’re really onto something.’

They brainstormed for what felt like hours, stopping whenever they thought they heard footsteps. They ran through countless options, like putting on a musical wrestling show, or turning a crowd furious for Ram to fight them all at once, or even having a one-on-one with President Wintersea herself.

‘Wait, Ram,’ Wolf said eventually. ‘We’re going at this all wrong! You’re practically undefeatable, right?’

‘Literally,’ Ram corrected.

‘What if I played something so angry and powerful that whoever you were up against could easily beat you?’

Ram’s face lit up, inspired, then immediately dropped. ‘But what about me? I have to— to use my power, too,’ he said, avoiding the phrase ‘show off’.

‘What about two matches? First, we show that you can beat the strongest, toughest fighter in the country without any help. Then I step in and help some feeble little kid to beat you.’

‘Wolf, you’ve got it!’

They shared a celebratory, giggle-infused handshake, and set to work organising.

They couldn’t exactly get their hands on the best fighter in the whole country, so they decided Ram’s Coach Bristle would do the trick. He was a giant, muscly man, someone you’d never expect to lose a fight.

They’d signed up to perform at Jackalfax’s spring festival, and to their delight, dozens and dozens of people were wandering past the stage every minute. There was no way the twins would be missed here.

The boys announced the fight to mostly indifferent spectators. People wandered about, browsed shop stalls, sat outside pop-up cafes, generally did anything but look at the stage.

‘They don’t care,’ Ram said.

‘Not to be discouraged, Ram,’ said Wolf, feeling rather discouraged. ‘Go on and show them what you can do.’

‘Ready, Guntram?’ Coach Bristle said, giving Ram a light punch on the arm. ‘You’re gonna do great.’

Ram nodded and inhaled sharply.

They faced each other. Ram felt frozen in the pressure. His heart was the only thing that moved.

Then Coach ran at him. Pushed by instinct, Ram grabbed Coach and pinned him to the ground. Ram eased off slightly, keen to get a look at the audience behind him. But Coach wasn’t going easy today: he rolled out of the pin, grabbed Ram’s shoulders and made to pin him down. Ram quickly twisted out of the hold.

Close one, Ram thought, breathing heavily. In that moment’s pause, he glanced out at the crowd.

People were paying attention now. Shoppers and wanderers had turned into stop-and-starers, and the people eating at nearby tables turned to watch the stage. They didn’t look excited, though, they looked scared. Ram swore he heard someone say, ‘That man’s gonna kill him.’

Pressure’s on, now, Ram thought, forcing himself to keep his eyes on his opponent. He took a deep breath. Don’t lose focus.

Then, as Coach Bristle charged at him, the boy channelled his deepest strength and grabbed Coach’s arm — he twisted it, forcing Coach to the ground, and despite all Coach’s efforts he couldn’t overcome Ram’s strength pinning him. Ram held him there, brutally aware of the dead silence around them.

Then, all of a sudden, the crowd erupted into cheers! Neither Ram nor Wolf could resist their excitement bubbling up in a massive grin.

Quick to keep the audience they’d garnered, Wolf jumped to the front of the stage and announced, ‘You’ve seen what our Guntram is capable of… but watch now, as little Teddy overpowers his superhuman might with one very special weapon: my music!’

Teddy, a young boy from school who knew well about Wolf’s musical power, toddled out from side stage. The crowd gasped — it wasn’t possible, that little thing would surely be crushed!

Wolf stepped behind his set of drums, metallophones and bells. He began slowly, with just the tick of two mallets hitting each other. Then, driving the energy slowly up, he added a deep thump to the rhythm. Then a melody, joining into the polyrhythm, shrill and strong above the drums. Wolf focused on the connection between himself, the music and Teddy, building it with sound and emotion, driving them up a crescendo. The music crested in idiophonic euphony and a mighty blow to Ram’s stomach.

Wolf’s eyes glittered as he watched what happened next.

Teddy threw his opponent to the ground, perfectly executing the winning move, the audience erupting in amazement.

Ram coughed, wincing. Even after rehearsing, he wasn’t used to losing. But as he tuned in to the raging applause, the pain quickly faded, making way for a golden pride that settled in his chest.

As the crowd started to dissipate, a huge man with huge muscles stomped up to the twins.

‘This was real cute, but how can you say it wasn’t staged, hm?’

Staged? Wolf groaned internally. Why didn’t we think about that?

‘Fight me,’ said Ram.

The man almost stumbled back in surprise. ‘Fight you?’ he said.

‘Yeah, that’ll show you it’s real.’

‘I’m not fighting a little kid!’

‘I promise,’ Ram said, leaning forward. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Wolf cocked his head towards the stage. ‘Go on.’

The man seemed to weigh up the situation in his head, eyeing the stage with hesitance, then curiosity, then confidence.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

From the crowd, sceptical chatter.

‘A volunteer?’

‘This’ll be interesting.’

‘Hope the kid survives.’

As the fight began, the crowd swelled once again. Each of the man’s attacks and Ram’s escapes that followed were met with ‘ooh’s and ‘ah’s. Ram’s counter attacks were met with awed cries as the man tried and failed to resist.

In a matter of seconds, the huge man was immobilised, Ram the victor.

Ram saw an opportunity and called out, ‘Now, is there anyone brave enough to take me on? With the help of my amazing brother, of course.’

A scrawny kid of about twelve held up a bold hand.

‘You, there!’ and Wolf beckoned the girl up. ‘All you have to do,’ he said as she got on stage, ‘is focus on the music, and trust yourself. Got it?’

The girl grinned eagerly. ‘Let’s do it.’

So, without a fear in the world, she faced off with Ram as the steady ticking of mallets colliding sounded.

Wolf ramped up the tempo, gathering up a sense of urgency. Then, rolling the mallets across the drum set, he shot a burst of power into the heart of the girl and executed an epic sequence of heart-pumping percussion.

And just like that, Ram was on the ground, forced to submit. Wolf caught his eye and they shared an ecstatic grin.

They heard astonished chatter arise from the crowd. ‘That was amazing!’ it said. ‘Mustn’t be a hoax after all…’

The next morning, the boys woke up to just the news they’d been hoping for.

‘Look, my dears!’ said Ivy, waving the local newspaper in the air. ‘You’re famous!’

Ram took the paper and read out the headline: ‘Marvels of Might! The Boys Who’ve Mastered Strength.’

The twins looked up in awe.

‘That’s amazing,’ Wolf said. ‘Look, father!’

‘Look how they love us!’

‘I’m proud of you, boys,’ Corvus said — but he didn’t seem so enthusiastic, even by his standards.

Ivy rubbed his arm and gave a sort of look that said, Oh, come on.

Corvus just nodded and gave a halfhearted smile.

Meanwhile, Wolf and Ram were celebrating, punching the air, talking about all the cool things they’d be able to do when they became real celebrities.

‘We could buy all the sweets we want!’ said Wolf.

‘We’d get private carriages all over the country,’ Ram added.

‘We’d have our portraits painted and put in museums.’

‘We could move to the city.’

‘We could move to a castle!’

The boys continued their outrageous musings, but Ivy wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. She was watching Corvus. She saw his eyes narrow. He smoothed down his jacket and straightened his teacup. And maybe, slightly, his eyebrow twitched.

Propelled by their newfound confidence, Wolf and Ram put on more and more performances as the weeks went on. Show by show, their audience grew by dozens, not to mention the press! After every show, they’d be signing autographs (as well as they could) and posing for journalists’ cameras. They were being asked to perform all over Jackalfax, even being invited to other parts of Great Wolfacre and the Wintersea Republic! They fantasised about what those places might be like — bigger, brighter, more brilliant than Jackalfax could ever be! It was a shame their parents wouldn’t let them go.

Despite that, they found one morning that their presence was felt even across the continent.

‘Oh, there are my little heroes!’ said a teary-eyed Ivy, rushing over as they came out to breakfast. ‘My shiny little celebrities!’

‘What’s all this about?’ Ram laughed, peering out at his father through Ivy’s tight embrace.

Corvus didn’t seem so impressed. He was shaking his head and drawing a weary hand across his face. Without a word, he picked up a pile of newspapers and handed them to the boys. Each one was turned to a page all about them!

‘Look at all this,’ said Wolf. ‘They love us!’

‘That’s not the point,’ Corvus huffed. ‘Look.’ He snatched back the papers one at a time, flipping back to the front page and pointing. ‘The Chronicle. Prosper Post. The Capital Times. You’re everywhere. Even internationally, they’re talking about you.’

The twins exchanged a look of disbelief. International? Wolf couldn’t hold back a baffled laugh.

‘And I couldn’t be prouder,’ Ivy said, holding a hand to her chest.

‘Wolfram, Guntram, as I was telling your mother,’ Corvus said through gritted teeth (Ivy sending him a withering look), ‘we must be wary of the implications. You could face serious scrutiny for your abilities. Already, some people are saying it’s witchcraft; others, a farce. It could be detrimental to our image.’

‘Our image?’ said Ivy. ‘This isn’t about you, Corvus. This is about the boys!’

‘It reflects on all of us. Do you realise how people see witchcraft here? They’ll come after us with pitchforks if they think we’re encouraging that sort of thing. They’ll call the police!’

‘Honestly, would you put politics away for one second? Your sons have found a passion!’

‘A dangerous, obscene, powerful one.’ Corvus turned, fixing his gaze out the window. ‘I say we stop their little circus as soon as possible. It’s getting out of hand.’

Ivy looked at her sons, grieving the joyful looks that slipped from their faces.

The boys saw the regret on her face. They understood; they knew she couldn’t change his mind.

Wolf and Ram stood in the theatre’s anteroom, breathing deep. They were ready to perform for the final time.

Ram turned to his brother. ‘We’ve had a good run, partner.’ He held out his hand solemnly.

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Ram,’ said Wolf. ‘It’s not like we’re going to the Better Place.’ He shook Ram’s hand anyway.

Then, for one last, exhilarating time, the twins ran out through the crowd, breathing in all the praise and glory, sucking it deep so they would remember it forever.

But suddenly they realised… something was wrong. There was someone on the stage. They’d just materialised there, with a face of shock like even they didn’t know how it happened. Somehow, no one seemed to notice except the twins.

They stopped short, looked at each other, then looked back at the figure. It was a young lady, with coal-black hair and a crooked nose like their father’s.

[russilton]

I understand the point you're trying to make about George and homophobic comments but can you stop likening the very real oppression that Lewis is the victim of to some ignorant twitter comments on a white driver with a girlfriend?! Lewis is literally attacked in real-life by the kkk fanbase of that vile sport, ex champions throw around violently racist and homophobic slurs towards him without any pushback, stewards publicly wish for him to burn in his car (yes this has happened more than once), his literal championship was stolen to make space for their "great white hope" (in their words), other drivers have victim-blamed Lewis for years of racist abuse. This is the level of oppression that Lewis has dealt with in the sport, don't ever compare his situation to anyone else. I know you won't post this because white queers hate addressing their racism but you need to stop talking about Lewis if you insist on using him as a prop for your ship. You remind me of Barca fans who claim Gavi is oppressed due to sports heckling while a whole stadium chants racist abuse to Vini. In the wake of the discourse centering the racist abuse that black athletes face in Europe, it's asinine to compare a black athlete's situation with a white one. On that note, I have yet to see you speak up on the racism and homophobia that Lewis is subjected to, but you're always prepared to paint your cishet white fav as oppressed.

I spent a very long time trying to figure out how to answer this ask, most of the day if I'm honest, because while I’m always willing to learn, I also think some of the things you’ve said here just aren’t true, and the fact that I’ve made you feel that they are means I need to be clearer with what I’m expressing.

At no point did I ever, ever, ever intend for it to sound like I was saying what George is dealing with currently is anywhere close to what Lewis deals with on a daily basis. And I don’t think that’s what I said at all, but if it came off that way, it’s something I want to change.

For the sake of transparency, I've made an edit to the original post to clarify my point. I understand now it might have come away belittling to seem like I was equating a more isolated incident to something larger and much more complex, and I'm sorry for that, it was just the only incident I could come to at the time.

I’m not looking for anyone to come to my defence here, because I’d rather speak for myself, nor do I want to make it sound like I've never made mistakes. I've made plenty, on here included, and i've done my level best to change and listen. But if you believe I have never spoken about the racism Lewis faces, have you been around that long?

I talk about it often, and as blatantly as I can while also making clear that as a white guy, I’m not the voice that should be listened to, and that it’s better for me to promote POC speakers or link to them instead. I'm sorry you if it appears like I'm not doing it enough, Ive been trying to listen instead of speak, which is what i've been told to do in the past on here by other anons. When asks have crossed the topic, I've been blunt about the systemic racism in f1, and why it serves F1 to suppress Lewis' voice. But again, there is a limit to what I have said myself, because I don't think its right to make myself the centre focus, when it should be more informed voices.

The only reason it may seem like I do more speaking myself when it comes to homophobia around Lewis AND George, is that it's something I HAVE experienced firsthand, and can more effectively talk about. The vitriol Lewis faces for self expression and the homophobic stereotypes that pour out with it are things I've been open about before, and Lewis' own changing views on gender and gendered clothing are something I'm deeply proud of him for.

But i also need to say I want to be able to talk about multiple issues at once without it seemingly like one is standing over the other, or should detract attention. It's both true that Lewis faces abuse that the officials surrounding F1 and even Mercedes itself will sweep under the rug or belittle, AND that the torrent of Homophobic abuse George is facing needs to be addressed no matter his sexuality or relationship status due to the effect it'll have on his fans.

I care less about how George feels as someone who isn't routinely oppressed and able to easily access support, and more about how formula one continues to absolve fans of extremely bigoted behaviour under the umbrella of calling them a bad outliers rather than addressing the root issues of the sports own willing ignorance and allowance of hateful behaviours from stewards, marshals, team staff and even other drivers. It's not about how the drivers feel, but how minority fans are pushed out in favour of the toxic cesspool f1 has happily encouraged the growth of in order to rake in their money, rather than address. There is not a single f1 comment section on any team, or official social page i would willingly step into, because It is never anything but filled with the worst voices that f1 just.. ignores. Until they're booing Max Verstappen on track, and we're all demanded to be nicer to him, even as he continues to stoke the kinds of fans that have called me every slur in the book and told me to off myself. There is a reason I only interact with F1 on tumblr of all places, it is legitimately the only site I feel safe to do so.

I was a Lewis fan before I was a George fan, and I think I will always find a closer home in him than I will with any other driver. No driver has stood up quite as vocally for issues both close to home for me and issues the world over. No other driver has stuck his neck out the same way or made me feel quite as allowed into a traditionally cis het white space. I only became a motorsport fan because Lewis made me feel like there was a space for people like me.

[sebrrari]

20 and 21 for trans seb? 🙏

oooh i love these questions ty!!!

(send me a bts question about one of my fics!) (my fic tag)

20. What is something you wish more people noticed about this fic?

ooooooooh i'm having a hard time coming up with something for this - all the wonderful beautiful delightful people who left comments or came to talk to me or are even now my frIENDS what the FUCK have picked out so many of the things i put in and hoped would resonate and land with people!

maybe one thing is this paragraph (though i hid it in the porn so that's partially on me):

seb cuts straight to the quick of the problem, a shield of confidence galvanized after years of hiding. he’s world fucking champion, in a sport that wanted to tell him no at every turn. he’s earned the right to be unashamed, settled in his body.

maybe i'll write about this one day. i don't want to paint this seb, or anyone in any of my fics, as "above" societal influence. i want them to navigate it and ultimately decide to be their own person and live with abandon, finding joy in themselves and others despite all else.

and seb isn't there, but he's on his way and he knows that much. what must the thrill, the weighty triumph, of being world champion in a sport dominated by traditional cis het type-a men? how does that influence seb's perception of his gender, and how does he take pleasure in not being that? he's clearly comfortable in his body, in his transness, enough to show the people who he has sex with without nerves and without shame. what about his masculinity? what about being labeled as The Best Man There Is In Motorsport? what does that feel like?

_____

21. What is something you didn't expect people to notice or gravitate towards in this fic?

like all of it to be fucking real i cannot stress this enough i am so blown away that people read it and liked it and WAH

i think i'm pleasantly surprised by how much people like this mark. i was hesitant to lean into his softness so soon but i wanted to look at him from a different angle - so many f1 drivers are ruthless on track but completely different off, and i just couldn't bring myself to put another "mark is going to punish fuck this twink" fic out there, especially with this seb that i had in mind - not because i don't like those fics, because i DO god do i ever, but i knew i wanted to rotate mark around in my brain and find his soft places and open them up more. it gets softer btw i can guarantee one day i will post again and it will be softer. complicated softer, but softer. u have my word

[cali-holland]

Risk It All- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Prompt: (Royalty!AU) As the princess, you have to hide your relationship with Tom, the stable hand. When your mother sets up a jousting tournament with the prize of your hand, Tom must risk it all to win your heart.

Word Count: 4100

A/N: This is for @geminiparkers ‘s writing challenge under the AU brother’s best friend and the scenario forbidden love and special thanks to @duskholland for proofreading this and correcting me when i literally made up a word

~ Also a melee is a tournament where two groups of knights reenact a battle, and i’m pretty sure we all can picture a joust… but i’m not historically accurate with any of this so oh well

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Moodboard is mine, pics used are not *

~~~~~~

The castle was quiet that afternoon. Harrison was off attending to some royal duties with your mother, and you found yourself making your way down the familiar path to the stables on the far side of the castle. You smiled to yourself as you crossed the cobblestoned road. You pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, your gown catching the stray pieces of hay that lay on the floor. Your smile grew wider as you saw a familiar figure, reorganizing the hay bales to make room for tomorrow’s import.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Tom said, not even sparing a glance in your direction as you came over to him.

“Are you really going to tell a princess what to do, stable boy?” You asked teasingly, a smile playing on your lips. “No one followed me. We’re safe.”

With a laugh, Tom turned around to face you, dusting the hay from his hands on his raggedy pants. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You leaned into his touch, your hands roaming underneath his old shirt, ghosting over his abs that rivaled those of any knight in the kingdom. He pulled away, regretfully admitting, “We shouldn’t- the other stable hands will be here soon.”

“Right.” You let out a small sigh, but neither of you made any effort to move out of each other’s arms. “I wish that we could be together, really together.”

“I wish that, too, but you know the law.”

It was a risky business, all of this sneaking around to be together. You were the princess, you weren’t allowed to marry anyone less than a knight, and Tom was a stable boy, whose family served yours for generations. Despite his status, you would trade your silk gowns and other luxuries for him in a heartbeat, but he wouldn’t let you. Tom feared you’d be unhappy if you left your family, your status, your life for him. The rendezvouses were your only chance at being happy with Tom, even for a few moments. If anyone found out and turned Tom in, he could face dire consequences, and it would be out of your power to protect him.

“I have a gift for you.” Tom said, his hand left your side to pull the gift from his pocket. You looked in awe of the delicate necklace. With one diamond hanging from the silver chain, it was simple, but beautiful. It was much smaller than any of your necklaces, ones that had been made from the best jewels in the world, but it was by far the best necklace you’d ever received. You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you realized that this necklace must’ve cost a fortune by Tom’s standards. “I know it’s not much, but I had the village jeweler make it special, just for you.”

“Tom, it’s beautiful.” You smiled at him, “How much did this cost you?”

“Don’t worry about it, princess. It’s a gift, I don’t expect or need repayment.” He insisted, holding up the necklace, “May I?”

You nodded, slowly turning around so that he could put it on you. The chain was long enough that you could conceal the diamond underneath your dress because, while you admired it, it would draw attention to the two of you. You turned back around in Tom’s arms and leaned in to kiss him again.

Hearing the handle to the stable door creak, you and Tom stepped away from each other’s embrace. He returned to his work, moving the bales of hay around, while you turned to your horse, acting as if you were simply in the stable to care for her. When Harrison stepped through the door, you knew you were being beckoned away from Tom.

“Mother would like to see us.” Harrison told you, and you nodded, stepping away from your horse. He turned to Tom, who had paused his actions, “I’ll be going on a hunt tomorrow with the knights. You should come.”

“I’ll have the horses ready.” He replied. Although Tom was not a knight, Harrison always treated him better than a regular stable boy. In fact, you’d dare to say that Tom was Harrison’s best friend with how the two often spent time together, whether it be on a hunt or training. Tom was a knight, all but in name.

You followed Harrison out of the stables, not bidding Tom more than a simple goodbye. As Harrison fell into step beside you on the way to the throne room, you spoke up, “Did mother say why she needed us?”

“No, but it sounded important.” Harrison replied, his shoulders shrugging a little. “What were you doing in the stables?” It wasn’t an accusatory question, but it certainly felt like one. “I was tending to my horse.”

“That’s what the stable hands are for.” He stated. A small smirk grew on his face. In a hushed tone, he teased, “Was there a certain stable hand you wanted to tend to?”

You bit back an unladylike scoff, “There most certainly was not.” You insisted, acting as if you weren’t currently wearing a pendant from said stable hand.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Harrison dropped his voice even quieter as you two came to a halt outside of the throne room.

You didn’t have time to question him before the grand doors opened, and you two were greeted with the guards lining the throne room and your mother sitting rather anxiously on her throne. Hesitantly, you and Harrison stepped forward until you were directly before her.

“Mother, you called for us.” You said graciously.

“Us? No, I asked Harrison to find you, so that I may speak with you alone.” She corrected you, and you looked over at your brother skeptically.

“I thought perhaps Y/N would feel more comfortable with my presence.” Harrison explained. When your mother just nodded, you spoke up again.

“Have I done something wrong?” You asked, your eyes trailing back to your mother in confusion.

“No, my dear. It has come to my attention, though, that you have caught the eye of suitors within and outside of our kingdom.”

“Suitors?” You didn’t want to believe that you heard her right. Surely, she couldn’t mean-

“Prospective husbands. Princes and dukes alike have taken notice that you are of age and without a suitor.” Your mother stood from her throne and stepped towards you, taking your hands in hers. “I have made the decision that there will be a tournament for your hand.”

“Do I not get a say in any of this?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, but your racing mind, clammy hands, and aching heart made that difficult. All you could think about was Tom and the beautiful necklace secretly dangling around your neck.

“No, our family has done tournaments with the price of the princess’s hand for centuries. Your father had to win a tournament to earn my hand, remember? It will start in two days' time.” You wanted to say something, wanted to tell her that your heart already belonged to the best suitor, but your tongue was caught in your mouth. You wordlessly nodded, though it broke your heart to do so. Your mother smiled and let go of your hands to return to her seat, “It is settled then. The princes and dukes shall arrive tomorrow. We need more servants in the castle to tend to our guests.”

“Will they not bring their own?” Harrison asked, and she shook her head.

“We cannot expect our guests to bring their servants with them. After tomorrow’s hunt, I want all the stable hands to serve our guests.” She insisted. You spared a glance at Harrison, and you could’ve sworn you saw his nose twitch in disapproval. “That’ll be all.”

You and Harrison silently made your way out of the throne room. As Harrison tried to rush off to his bedroom, you grabbed him by the arm, effectively stalling his plans.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You knew there was going to be a tournament for my hand, and you didn’t say anything. How long has mother been planning this?”

Harrison let out a sigh, “She’s been corresponding with the other princes and dukes for a month, but I promise I only found out today. I wanted to stay because I knew you’d be crushed by the news.”

“Crushed? Harrison, my life is being sold off to the champion of a vicious sport. I’d say I’m well passed crushed.” There was no hiding the bitterness in your voice. You let go of him and turned to leave to your own chambers.

Quietly, Harrison called out to you, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Harrison didn’t even have to say the name because you both clearly knew it was Tom he spoke of. You looked back at your brother and with a sad nod, you answered, “Yes. He is not a prince or a duke, and I love him anyway.”

The corridor was quiet for a moment before Harrison spoke up again, “Your secret’s safe with me, but be careful. You both mean a lot to me.”

That night, you hardly slept. You couldn’t stop thinking about Tom and the fact that, in mere hours, you’d be meeting the men championing for your hand. When the sun rose, you stood from your bed and watched from your window as the night was replaced by morning. From your tower, you could see Harrison and his group of knights walking across the courtyard to the stables with the castle’s best hounds, where Tom was waiting for them. As the men all settled onto their horses, Tom looked up, his eyes catching sight of you from your window. Though he was far away, you could tell there was a smile on his face.

He didn’t know yet. You didn’t have time to sneak off to see him yesterday, and you weren’t sure how to deliver the news. You stayed at your window, watching as they all rode off through the castle gate and into the nearby woods, the hounds close at the horses’ sides. A knock on your door from your own servants told you it was time to get ready for the day.

“Bit slow this morning?” Tom asked Harrison as he rode beside him on the familiar trail. The knights were ahead of them, keeping up with the hounds as they searched for today’s kill.

“Not particularly looking forward to tonight.” Harrison muttered, an unimpressed look on his face.

“My mother said there were guests coming. Who are they?” It was a simple question, but it stirred a regretful feeling in Harrison. Tom’s mother was the queen’s closest servant— she knew exactly who was coming. Why she didn’t tell Tom, Harrison didn’t know, but he had a guess.

“Suitors.” He replied. “There will be a tournament, beginning tomorrow for Y/N’s hand.”

Tom immediately stopped his horse, coming to a standstill in the forest as the rest of the nights rode on. Harrison halted as well and turned his horse so he could face his friend. “Oh, I didn’t realize-“

“Tom, I know about you and Y/N.” When he registered the fear in his friend’s eyes, Harrison quickly spoke up, “I won’t tell. You’ve always been a good friend to me, and you don’t treat me differently as the crown prince. I have no reason to wish you or my sister that kind of misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Tom said, taken aback by the prince’s words. They continued their walk as Harrison continued his explanation of the dire events to come.

“My mother’s put together an entire tournament, and the suitors will come tonight. She also expects the stablehands to act as servants to the guests.”

“You mean I’d have to serve one of the suitors?”

“I’m afraid so.” Harrison let out a sigh, and Tom grimaced at the thought. Not only was he going to have to sit back while you married some noble prince or duke, but now he’d have to humiliatingly serve your future husband. Harrison paused in thought, “When we get back to the castle, remind me to look over the tournament scrolls.”

“What use are the tournament scrolls to you?” Tom asked.

With a small chuckle, Harrison responded, “I think I know a way you and Y/N can be together.”

Tom opened his mouth to question him, but the hounds barking ahead pulled them back to the reality of the hunt. The two hurried to catch up to the other knights, ready to partake in the hunting party.

That afternoon, when Harrison, Tom, and the rest of the hunting party returned, the word had spread around the castle of the coming guests. While Tom and the other stable hands took care of the horses, Harrison made his way to the castle library. He searched through the library until he came across the specific tournament scroll he had been searching for. With a smirk on his face, he took the scroll and hurried to find Tom before the welcoming ceremony.

Meanwhile, you adjusted the tiara on your head as you looked yourself over in the mirror again. As much as you dreaded this moment, you just wanted this ordeal to be over with; you’d never be truly happy if you weren’t with Tom. When your servants left you alone in your room, you slipped the small diamond necklace on, letting it fall underneath the material of your dress.

“Y/N? It’s time, my dear.” Your mother called to you from the other side of the door. You stepped out of your room, smiling at your mother through your discomfort.

“I’m ready.” You told her. You walked with your mother down the halls and stairs to the throne room. Your names were announced, and everyone parted ways for the two of you to walk down the aisle. Your mother took her seat at her throne, right in the middle, while you sat in your own throne beside her. Harrison was already seated at this throne on the other side of your mother, his own crown shining brightly under the candlelight. Beside your throne was a small desk, and the royal advisor was seated there with a quill and scroll, prepared to take down the names of the princes and dukes.

By just your third “it’s a pleasure to meet you”, you were bored with the welcoming event. None of the princes or dukes or even knights caught your eye as potential husband material. Still, you remained polite in your kind smiles and words of faux genuinity.

“Prince Arthur, your highness.” A young, blond prince said, bowing respectfully to you. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You had heard many stories about him; he was the best jouster in his kingdom. He was by far the most attractive of the suitors. Your eyes didn’t remain on the prince for long as he moved on, and you immediately recognized the next suitor.

“Tom, your highness.” A nervous, yet determined smile played on Tom’s lips while he looked at you. Before you could speak, there was a call from the crowd.

“He’s a stable boy, not a knight!” The bystander exclaimed. Tom’s eyes shifted anxiously over to Harrison, who calmly stood up.

“If he is a stable boy, he cannot-” Your mother started, but Harrison shook his head.

“By law, a tournament is open to any man of age, not exclusively knights or princes or dukes. Tom may proceed in the challenge.” He announced, definitively. 

As your mother went to speak again, you cut her off, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bit back a smile as Tom proudly walked off.

The names went on, and, with each additional suitor, you wondered if Tom could succeed in this tournament. Tournaments were a demonstration of military and combat skills, both of which he had limited experience of in comparison to the others. It was a deadly tournament; you just hoped he knew what he’d gotten himself into.

While Tom was allowed to enter, he still had to act as a servant to the castle guests, which meant that, later that evening, while all of the other suitors were asleep, Tom had to work. He was used to cleaning equestrian tack as a stable hand, but he wasn’t used to cleaning them in the dead of night. He was already tired from the preparation for and cleanup after the hunt, and now he was stressed over this upcoming tournament. At this rate, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to clean his own armor and tack in time.

Meanwhile, you could hardly sleep again. From your window, you could see the candle light illuminating the stables, and you knew Tom was down there. Grabbing a couple blankets, you slipped out of your bedroom quietly. You snuck down to the stables, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Perched on a hay bale as he worked on polishing a helmet, Tom jumped from the sudden noise.

“You scared me.” He said, quietly, bags already forming under his eyes.

“I thought you might need some company.” You replied, sitting beside him on the hay. As you draped a blanket over his shoulders, he smiled gratuitously.

“You should be sleeping.” Tom insisted. He began to polish the helmet some more, making sure it was spotless.

“So should you.” You cuddled into his side, seeking his warmth from the cold night air in the stables. “It’s going to be dangerous, you know that?”

“Yes, but Harrison and I have been training together, so I can work a sword.” He replied. “Plus, how hard can a melee be?”

“Tom, it’s a joust, not a melee. I don’t think I’d let you fight if it was a melee.” You laughed a little, and he paused his polishing.

“You don’t think I can win a melee?” Tom asked, looking down at you on his shoulder. You sat up to face him properly.

“I don’t know. These suitors all have military backgrounds. And I’d rather run away with you and abandon my title than have you die trying to win my hand.” You answered, quietly. “A joust isn’t nearly as dangerous, but please, be safe.”

“I will.” Tom gave you a quick kiss, “And I will win tomorrow.”

“My knight in shining armor.” You smiled as your hand ran through his hair, appreciating the messy curls.

“I’m no knight, and I don’t know about shining, but it’s armor.” He nodded over to the rusted armor in the corner. “I’m borrowing it from the widowed milkmaid.”

“Tom,” You laughed a little, knowing exactly how that milkmaid was widowed, as if the crack in the breastplate wasn’t a give away enough. “You can’t wear that.”

“What do I wear then? It’s a bit late for me to ask the blacksmith to custom make armor.” He joked with a small yawn, and you shook your head at him, cupping his cheek.

“I’ll handle it.” You assured him as you pulled him in for another kiss. Tom dropped the helmet and the polishing rag, the metal clanging on the cobblestone of the stable floor, and his hands found your waist. Though the next few days would determine your future, tonight was all about Tom.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the stable door opening. It took you a moment to figure out why you were in the stables before you realized that you had fallen asleep there in Tom’s arms. Tom woke up startled, just the same. You both thought that this could be it, the end of it all, until you realized who was there.

“Y/N, get up before your servants come looking for you.” Harrison urged. You and Tom hurried to stand up and gather blankets. “I thought I told you both to be careful.”

“It was an accident.” You stated, but he just sighed.

“Come on, I need to sneak you into the castle. We can’t have the suitors seeing you like this.” He gestured to your nightgown, which covered you modestly, but he was right; it was rather unladylike to be out in a nightgown. As you and Harrison went to leave the stables, Tom started to finish his job from last night, cleaning Prince Arthur’s armor. “Oh, and Tom, ride my horse for jousting today. He’s never lost a joust.”

Tom looked at his friend incredulously before looking over at the stallion in the stall. “Thank you.”

“That reminds me,” You spoke up, “Harrison, where’s your old armor?”

In just a few hours, it was time for the joust. You sat in the front row of the arena with your mother seated beside you. The suitors began to emerge from their private tents along the sidelines as the announcer called out each name. Harrison came out of Tom’s tent, bearing your own house sigil, and made his way to his seat beside you. Your brother gave you a playful nudge as Tom’s name was called and he stepped out of the tent. It was odd to see him wearing the same armor Harrison had retired just last year, but you felt a sense of pride overcome you. The armor wasn’t bad, but the royal men got new armor every year; besides, Harrison hadn’t been to war, so it wasn’t used much.

The tournament’s first round began, and each suitor got ready for their respective joust. It was a simple jousting tournament; each suitor would take on one other suitor, and the winner would progress to the next round. The rounds would progress until there was one distinct winner left.

You did your best to conceal your nerves for Tom, though one of your hands played with the small chain around your neck. As Tom mounted his horse (technically Harrison’s horse), he got ready for his joust- the first one of the day. He picked up his wooden lance and adjusted the helmet to cover his face. You watched with bated breath while he and his opponent took off, riding towards each other at full speed. A breath of relief coursed through you as Tom’s opponent was struck, falling to the ground.

He had won, but it was the first of many jousts that he had to win. Removing his helmet, Tom sent you a cheeky wink, one that did not go unspotted by your mother beside you. He dismounted and led the horse away, leaving the arena for the next joust.

“So far, so good.” Harrison mumbled to you. He wanted Tom to pull this off, just as much as you did.

“Let’s hope your horse’s winning streak keeps up.” You whispered back to your brother.

The jousting tournament continued on, and every time it was Tom’s turn, the same hopeful nerves came back. Finally, it was down to the last two suitors- Tom and Prince Arthur. As the two got on their horses and into position at either end of the arena, Harrison’s hand slipped into yours, reassuringly squeezing it.

“Come on, Tom.” You muttered under your breath, eyes fixated on him. You held your breath anxiously as the horses went barreling towards each other. Your heart jumped when Tom’s lance made contact with the prince’s armor, and he went crashing to the ground. Tom took off his helmet, and his eyes immediately found you, smiling victoriously.

“He’s a stable boy.” Your mother breathed out incredulously.

“Mother, if he must be a knight to marry Y/N-” Harrison started, ready to wholeheartedly defend Tom, but she cut him off.

“Please, Harrison.” She shushed him, “Prepare the other knights. We’ll have a knighting ceremony this evening. Now,” She paused, smiling at you, “I do believe Y/N has a victor to go meet.”

You looked at your mother in surprise, a smile of disbelief on your face. Wordlessly, you stood up as Tom made his way over to the three of you. He bowed before you, making you let out a laugh. “You won. You did it. And mother will make you a knight, too.”

“A knight? We can really be together then?” He asked you, and you nodded. Without hesitating, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, happy that now he could kiss you publicly. “I love you, my princess.”

“And I love you, my future prince.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker @miraclesoflove​

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

[howlingday]

About Jaune ships...

I have opinions. You may not agree, but they are mine. They may change in time, but not now.

LANCASTER ( RUBY X JAUNE )

The old tried and true. I mean, what's not to like? Cute girl falls for first guy she meets at Beacon? Classic romance trope, and after reading how much Ruby loves romance stories (I consider certain parts in the manga canon), it makes sense. In fact, after Arkos sank (A moment of silence, please . . . Thank you), many moved to Lancaster, which isn't bad. Happens all the time in fandoms. Sad thing, though, is far I think she'll last. If we're talking Volume 5 or earlier, then maybe. However, I feel if Ruby were to have an endgame in romance, it would be RoseGarden (I have opinions on that as well, but today isn't the day to discuss that), mostly because Oscar bumped Jaune's role from male lead to male side. Not to mention that while Jaune is becoming a beast in his own right, Ruby is a different creature altogether and evolving her character more rapidly and chaotically than anyone else (Must be all that screentime).

TLDR: I want it to be canon, but I might just be hoping.

WHITE KNIGHT ( WEISS X JAUNE)

Doofus in tin foil meets princess who hates daddy (Am I in the romance section of the library? You know, the corner for adults only?) No, but I do like this ship. I'm always a sucker for the fantasy genre, and using a zero to hero male makes it relatable. I also kind of ship it because the same reason I ship NaruSaku in the Naruto fandom: he likes her and he's willing to go the distance. But enough about that; instead let's talk about canon. Will they hook up? It's a soft maybe for me, for two reasons. 1. Rosegarden is most likely to be endgame, and after Ruby and Pyrrha, I'd say Weiss is Jaune's next to be his love interest. 2. Weiss has warmed up to Jaune. Sure, not lover or crush level (Yet), but she's definitely changed her opinion on him. In Volume 1, Jaune was bugging her, like all the time, which I could see as him getting mixed signals on (Exhibit A: Tall, blonde, and scraggly). When Volume 5 came around, everyone jumped onboard because he saved her life (Don't lie, because I'll admit that I did it, too). Not the best reason, but still reason enough, I'd say. Then in Volume 7, she hangs out with him and Oscar to the movies (It was either that or awkward Bumbleby all night. I feel ya, sister). Nothing romantic happens, but it does show how much their relationship has developed. If Weiss is Jaune's endgame, then they have set the pieces up perfectly to do so.

TLDR: High likelihood to be canon and I'm a sucker for Knight/Princess ships.

KNIGHTSHADE ( BLAKE X JAUNE)

This is the part where I say definitely not. Not in a million years, but I'll explain why I like the ship, though. As for why it won't work, the answer is Bumbleby. They haven't kissed yet, but you know they're going to eventually (Because if they don't, the fans will attack like a swarm of hornets). But here's the question you might be asking now: why do I ship this? Well, it's part of the allure of "opposites attract" ('Cause I'm dressed like a cat!). Blake is an intelligent, outspoken, and agile ninja with a criminal history of terrorism who spends her free time reading novels. Jaune is a B at best on his tests, soft-hearted, and ground-based knight who's worst crime is fraud (Still a crime, but peanuts compared to literal terrorism) and spends his free time hanging out with his team. Day and night. But they also tried that with Sun for a season and a half and it didn't last (BECAUSE BEES).

TLDR: Not even a snowball's chance in the summer sun, but so much story potential if you do (Which I do)!

DRAGONSLAYER ( YANG X JAUNE )

This, I would say, is the opposite of Knightshade, where Jaune is the day and Blake is night, here Yang is the Sun and Jaune is the Moon (Like their crests! Remember those? Y'know, when they were relevant?) Will it work? Even less so than Knightshade. However, it does open up some interesting paths considering how... provocative Yang can be, and Jaune, compared to the other guys, is the nerdiest, geekiest dude at Beacon. It's like the cheerleader/nerd romance, except the cheerleader is the captain of every sports team... and rides a motorcycle. The Volume 8 preview introduced us to Yang and Jaune riding motorcycles and we went nuts over it. Yang was back in her element, roaring down the street, riding on walls, popping off tricks with Oscar riding- Back to what I was saying, people were asking, "How did he know how to ride a motorcycle?" and the elementary answer is "He didn't." He almost fell off his bike from a small box in the road. True, anyone would, but look at how he reacts: he stiffens, he refocuses on the road. This kid literally started riding at breakfast, and I DARE you to prove me wrong. But hey, great fic material right there, though, eh?

TLDR: Never gonna happen, but I don't care. All I care about is writing that they love each other. And they also fu-!

ARKOS ( PYRRHA X JAUNE )

I'm sorry, I need a moment. . . . Alright. Do it for her. This ship... was perfect. Probably the best ship out them all. I legit almost cry every time I think about Volume 3. Pyrrha was everyone's favorite. Her background, her interactions, her choreography, everything! But, of course, like everything in our lives, she was too good to be true. But let's honor her memory by talking about her ship, Arkos. Pyrrha was the champion of the world, the Brothers' and Oums' gift to Remnant. She could do no wrong and she HATED it. Her plight was with how she was seen. Everybody knew her! Everybody, except Jaune. And he only figured out she was "a big deal" was because Weiss had to spell it out for him! As time went on, they became the best of friends, two peas in a pod, the perfect odd couple! They worked together and trusted each other, they cared for and supported each other, they lo- No. No, I can't say it. It's been years, and it still hurts. So, I'll explain something else: the reason why Jaune SHOULD NOT be shipped right now. That reason is Pyrrha. Jaune was helpless to save her. He's suffering from survivor's guilt and he's still grieving. In Volume 4, he would sneak away and train until late at night to scroll recording of her. In Volume 5, he confronted Cinder and got Weiss almost killed because he let his grief for Pyrrha take control of him and let his emotions run wild. In Volume 6, he finds the Pyrrha statue and he... I don't know how to say this, but he let's go. He accepts that Pyrrha is gone and he's starting the healing process. He's finally ready to move forward.

TLDR: T.T I never felt that it was wise to wish too much~

MARTIAL ARCS ( REN X JAUNE)

I'll be honest, I don't really ship it. Yeah, it's cute, and it falls perfectly into the "if I had to pick a guy" part of me, but to be honest, I don't ship it. 10% because Renora and 90% it just doesn't click with me. They both just seem too soft, too quiet, too introverted. Best friends? Yes, definitely! But lovers? Eeeeeh, not really.

TLDR: I will only ship as neccessary.

NORA'S ARC ( NORA X JAUNE )

I've only just got in this deep with the fandom only recently, so I don't know if a lot of you know me. Heck, I'm probably just some RWBY fan you happen to spot as you move through your dash. However, old or new, I want to be made absolutely positively clear on this. Of all the ships here, this has got to be my-

O T FUDGIN' P

Wow! Never thought I'd feel so strongly about a crack ship like this. And yes, as sad it is to say, this is a crack ship. Renora was planned from day one, so it can't be helped. At least it didn't blast me in the face all of the sudden (OH NO, NOT THE BEES! AAAAARGH! THEY'RE IN MY EYES!). But why this ship? Well, for one thing, it's that whole opposites attract thing with Nora as the bubbly, outspoken, airhead powerhouse and Jaune as the soft spoken, introverted, nerd tactician. But wait, there's more to this trope, because it can go deeper: Order VS Chaos! Who makes all the messes? Who cleans up those messes? Who follows all the rules? Who makes their own doors? It's just. So. Damn! GOOD! One sad thing about this ship though is that it's not only not canon because of Renora, it's anti-canon because Renora. Every fan fic of Nora's Arc requires an explanation for Ren and Nora to not be together-together, like you have to write a formal apology to the FNDM for liking something that's different from what is canon or commonly accepted. If that's the case, then I'll be the anarchist here!

TLDR: I LOVE IT! What's that? Not canon? Who gives a damn?! I just explained why Jaune won't be shipped anyways! Now, if you'll excuse, I have some fan fics to find.

ARCFALL ( CINDER X JAUNE )

Oh, here it goes! Now, if we're talking ships that'll never happen, this is where we find better reasons than "it's not canon" and "character development". No, this... This is a declaration of war. Allow me to explain. Cinder Fall is evil. Like, down to her core. She wants power and she'll cut through anyone to get to it. Including Pyrrha. This woman sank Arkos by means other than "X and Y kissed, so..." She killed X, leaving Y alone. And her interactions with Jaune tell me she wouldn't even be worth a hate-bang. But, as Momma always, there's a thin line between love and hate. This is where the appeal comes in. Cinder is evil with no past, which leaves the previous chapter's of her life story blank to be filled in. Jaune is good with a troublesome, albeit easy past, but untapped potential for more. It's another opposites attract, but different from INTRO VS EXTRO and CHAOS VS ORDER; this is GOOD VS EVIL. Who will win this battle of wills; will our hero purify the tainted heart, or will he slip deeper into darkness, never to return to the light?

TLDR: Should be a NOTP, and yet the allure pulls me in.

What do y'all think? Do you agree? Let me know!

[keanureevesisbae]

Coach Cavill - Chapter 3

Summary: It’s Benji’s first competition with Henry as his coach.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: Just wanted to let you know that your comments are really making my day 💕 If you want to be on the taglist, just let me know 😉😘

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Eve, her husband Johnny and their kids Lola, Jake and Yara have taken Isabella with them, so they can find a nice spot on the bleachers, while I wait for Benji, since he is at the weigh in. He walks out of the room, giving me a thumbs up. He is always a bit nervous during weigh ins, though our scale told us this morning that he was all good to go. I hold his bag, as he is slipping into his sport socks. He puts on his sweater again and says: ‘I think I can finish this year in the minus fifty five kilo category, mom.’

‘Well, we’ll see about that. There is nothing wrong with going up a category, you know. You are a teenager and still growing.’

‘I know,’ he says with a smile. ‘Let’s just hope that I won’t start growing again for approximately two months. I’d like to finish in this category.’

‘Mister Jung,’ Henry says, who walks up to the two of us. He is looking handsome today. I like him in a tracksuit, because goodness gracious, those legs…

‘Coach Cavill.’ I see the way Benji’s eyes light up when he sees coach and it nearly makes me want to melt. I dread the moment Dean will arrive… ‘The weigh in went good.’

Henry nods with a bright smile on his face. ‘Very good. Are you excited?’

‘I am.’

‘Are you nervous?’

Benji shrugs. ‘Maybe a little bit, but that’s only healthy right? At least, that’s what mom always says.’

‘When you are a bit nervous, you usually perform better, so your mom is obviously right about that.’ Henry’s eyes meet mine and smiles. ‘Good morning Amelia.’

‘Good morning.’

‘You slept good?’ he asks.

I nod. ‘Wonderfully, thank you.’

‘Benji, are you letting your mom carry your bag for you?’ Henry tsks, before taking the bag from my hands. ‘Well, since you’re not taped in yet, I’ll let it slide this time.’ He places his hand on Benji’s shoulder, who blushes and mumbles a soft: ‘Sorry coach.’

I can’t help but smile. This is the type of bond I wished Dean and Benji had.

‘You have an hour before you’re up. Eat something, drink something, make sure you’re all taped up and ready to go, so I can help you warm up, okay?’

‘Thanks coach.’ Benji smiles, before saying he is going to join aunt Eve and the rest. I watch him with a smile on my face.

‘Are you nervous?’ I ask Henry.

He scoffs, as if he is offended. ‘Why would I be nervous?’

‘You have been their coach for a week now,’ I say, as we walk towards the bleachers, ‘and this is your first tournament.’

He chuckles. ‘I don’t get nervous, especially over something like this,’ he tells me. ‘Passed that station a long time ago.’

‘Liar liar, pants on fire,’ I singsong.

He frowns. ‘That has been quite a while since I heard that phrase.’

‘Let me guess: kindergarten.’

‘How did you know?’ he asks, genuinely impressed. I’m tempted to convince him that I’m a psych-kick, but I decide to tell the truth.

‘Well, I sing this on a daily basis. I’m a kindergarten teacher, surrounded by cheeky little ones who think they can deceive me.’

Henry smiles. ‘Didn’t know you were a teacher,’ he says. ‘You seem like a sweet one. Those kids are lucky to have a teacher like you.’

This shouldn’t make me blush and yet it does. I always thought and hoped that I left my blushing episodes in high school. I wave to Eve, who obviously spotted us and nods approvingly, when her eyes fall on the handsome man beside me.

‘Here you go, champ,’ Henry says, placing the sports bag in front of Benji’s feet.

‘Thanks coach,’ he says. I know my son better than he knows himself, because I rummage through my mom bag, that is filled with necessary stuff, neatly arranged.

‘There you go, honey,’ I say to him, handing him a sandwich. I look up to Henry. ‘You want to join us or…? I have two sandwiches for you.’

‘I’m never going to say no to a sandwich, let alone two.’

I sit down next to Benji, who gives me the roll of tape and Henry sits next to me. Tons of thoughts are running through my head, but one recurring thought is that we kind of look like a couple now. We look like a family and if Isabella would sit here with us, it would be complete.

‘Here you go,’ I say to Henry, giving him his sandwich. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Mom makes the best sandwiches,’ Benji says, holding out his hand for me to tape in. ‘She can’t cook very well, but her sandwiches are out of this world.’

‘Benji, don’t tell your coach that I’m not a very good cook.’

‘But it’s true and you say that you should tell the truth.’

‘Yeah, but a little lie every now and then doesn’t hurt anyone.’

Henry chuckles. ‘Well, maybe she isn’t a great cook, but she sure as hell knows how to make a wonderful sandwich. I feel like I should pop by everyday to get one.’

I rip off a piece of tape. ‘You’re always welcome. I think Benji would love to have his favorite coach around.’

Benji blushes. ‘Well, I wouldn’t complain,’ he softly mumbles, taking a bite out of his own sandwich.

Jake and Lola, who are Benji’s age, sit on the floor at his feet. These three have been friends ever since the day they were born (thirteen days apart, making Benji the youngest) and it makes me happy that to this day, they are still close. Something deep inside me tells me that Benji is into Lola, but that is merely a gut feeling, since Benji doesn’t talk about such thing and I don’t want to be a mother that wants to pry out information like this from her child. I hated it when my mom did that, I sure as hell know that my son would hate it.

‘You want a protein bar?’ Lola asks him.

‘It’s totally acceptable, aunt Amelia,’ Jake adds, when he sees me looking. ‘I always eat it before I go to the gym.’

‘Enjoy it, sweetheart,’ I say to Benji. ‘Give me your foot.’

I tape up his ankle and I wonder what Henry is thinking right now. When I look up, as I finished taping up Benji, I see Henry smiling.

‘Mom, look,’ Isabella says, causing me to stretch myself out to see her sitting on Johnny’s leg, as Yara is sitting on his other.

‘You know,’ Johnny says, ‘this reminds me of when Lola and Jake were younger. Only this time, I don’t have a stinky boy on my leg.’

‘I’m right here, dad,’ Jake says.

I roll my eyes. ‘Well, Jake, your dad is right. You were a stinky boy when you were younger.’

‘Aunt Amelia, that is so rude!’

I stick out my tongue, before I watch the three teens start talking again. Eve and Johnny both wink at me, causing me to roll my eyes. I look to the side, to Henry. ‘So,’ I start, ‘it must be hard, to be here by yourself. No family.’

He shrugs. ‘Sometimes, but here in Luna Meadows, I feel like I’m home. Does that make sense?’

‘I totally understand. I moved out of this town when I was fifteenth and came back when I was eighteen. The second I was back here, I was home again.’

‘Why were you out of town for three years?’ Henry asks, but I don’t have an opportunity to answer, because my favorite supporter has arrived.

‘There is my champion.’ If the air could turn any colder, my spit would freeze in my mouth. Dean sits close by and it infuriates me. Do I really have to teach him the post divorce etiquette? How hard is it for someone to understand to sit away from your ex-wife?

My heart stops beating for a bit, as I watch Dean sitting next to Benji.

‘Hi dad,’ Benji says, clearly uncomfortable. He quickly checks if his dad kept his side of the bargain, by not bringing Mindy, and thankfully Dean did. Benji leans over to me and whispers: ‘Next time I don’t want him here.’

Oh, my poor baby. ‘Understood. Do you want him gone now? We can just be honest with him, he should understand.’

Benji shakes his head. ‘No, not necessary.’

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a hug.

‘Benji,’ Henry says, ‘let’s go, we’ll go stretching a bit, go over the game plan.’

My son simply nods (but I know him, he is grateful that Henry is giving him this way out) and gives me a kiss. ‘I love you, mom.’

‘Love you too.’

‘Good luck!’ Eve says. ‘You go kick some butt, promise?’

Benji smiles as he stands up. ‘I promise, aunt Eve.’

Everyone wishes him good luck and I stand up, so I can sit close to Eve. Isabella rushes over to her dad, to sit with him. I don’t like that Isabella still loves Dean, but I don’t feel like I should interfere. She is his daughter and he is her dad and that’s a bond I shouldn’t come in between, no matter how much I want to.

Jack and Lola sit between me and Dean and I lean over to Lola and whisper: ‘How about junk food after the match? As a thank you for being my human barrier.’

‘Aunt Amelia,’ Lola says with a smile on her face and she looks just like her mother now, ‘this is merely a favor. We love you.’

Eve did such a good job raising her kids.

‘Let’s ignore the idiot,’ Eve says as she leans over, ‘and talk about more important things. For example how handsome coach Cavill is.’

‘I know right,’ I chuckle, as I look over to the tatami, seeing Henry writing down some stuff on a piece of paper, as Benji is getting ready in his judogi, as he listens to his coach.

‘Also, this man is totally into you and he is not making a secret out of it. I mean, the way that man looks at you when you are not looking, it’s quite something.’

‘Don’t, Eve.’

She sends me a look, before continuing to say: ‘Benji seems to really like him too and that may be the most important thing.’

That is the most important thing. Eve knows how Benji can be and actually Johnny is one of the only men Benji trusts. ‘I know, that makes me pretty happy too.’

I can feel that Dean wants to talk to me, wants me to have a conversation with him and pretend like he didn’t ruin our marriage. Just because he didn’t bring the toddler with him, doesn’t mean I can pretend like everything is okay.

I continue to ignore Dean’s presence, just as I am ignoring the stares of everyone else. Benji is doing his warm up and Henry is helping him stretching out his muscles. Eve gets my attention, by tapping my leg and whispering: ‘Henry is good with kids, that’s also a good sign.’

I don’t know if this is her way of distracting me or if she is serious. I chuckle, before I say: ‘Shut up.’

✰ ✰ ✰

How do you kill your ex-husband, without a crowd of at least a hundred people noticing? I don’t think that is even a possibility, especially since I want that man to suffer.

He has been yelling things like: ‘That’s my boy’ and ‘Watch your defense, Benji’ and if that man knew his son one bit, he’d know that Benji hates that. The only thing I do from the side, is applauding and giving him a thumbs up when he looks at me. Jake and Lola are his friends and Isabella is his sister and they have a pass for yelling things, but Eve and Johnny also need to shut up.

However Dean is his dad, not his friend and he should know this.

‘Dean, I am warning you,’ I eventually say to him, ‘if you don’t cut the yelling right now, I’m going to kick you out.’

‘Can’t a dad support his son a little? Geez, Amelia, you are such a party pooper.’

My hands turn into fists. ‘A real dad would support his son in a way that the son appreciates it. Benji hates it when you yell from the sideline.’

Eve takes a deep breath and says: ‘Dean, if you could just shut up for the finals.’

Dean leans back in the chair and I quickly check my phone, when I see that Benji is on his, waiting for his turn.

Amelia: I’m sorry, honey

Benji: It’s okay, mom

Amelia: Sure? I can kick him out.

Benji: Sure, I can handle this.

I look up, to see his head hang, his tense shoulders and when he looks up to me, I catch the sad look in his eyes. My boy is everything but okay. My eyes meet Henry’s, who holds out his hand, non verbally telling me that it’ll be okay and I believe him. I totally believe him and who is he anyways?

He has seen my kid during practice three times and he already knows Benji better than his own father does.

During the final, I hold my breath as I usually do. I’m afraid he is going to break his neck, especially since his opponent is actually pretty good.

‘Come on, Benji, don’t be such a pushover!’

‘Dean, are you kidding me?’ I ask, pushing Jake and Lola to the side, so I can have a clear look at the man I fell for many many years ago. The man that I loved. The man that proposed to me, that told me that we would be together forever and the man who told me when Benji was born that he was going to protect him with his entire life, just like he did when Isabella was born. ‘What did I just say?’

That is the exact moment that Benji falls flat on his back, thus losing with an ippon, meaning the game is over. He walks off the tatami, after he politely shook his opponents hand and marches to the exit.

Fuck, no, no, no.

I get up and stare at Dean, hoping that I can kill him with this simple stare. ‘Look at what you did, you idiot.’

‘I’m an idiot?’ He grabs my wrist as he stands up, preventing me from going after my son. ‘He could’ve easily won this.’

I’m not going to have this conversation with him. ‘Honestly,’ I say, ‘I don’t care about the lies and the rumors you spread about me behind my back, but this is your son. You hurt him when you act like this.’ I pull my hand free from his grip, as I rush off the bleachers, hoping I can find Benji.

‘Benji, open up.’ Henry has placed his hand on the doorframe, as he continuously knocks on the wood. ‘Come on, buddy, we have to talk about this.’

‘Go away,’ I hear Benji’s muffled voice coming through the door.

Henry sees me and steps aside. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I thought this wouldn’t go to his head. I hoped I had prepared him for this.’

‘This is not your fault,’ I tell him, before I knock on the door. ‘Benji, honey, it’s me. Can you open the door for me?’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘Look, I get that you are upset,’ I say, before sighing deeply. Thanks a lot, Dean, for screwing up so badly. I place my forehead against the door. I don’t even know what to say to him. Normally I know exactly what can cheer him up, but this hasn’t happened before. How does one respond to a situation like this?

‘Is he in there?’ Dean asks, as he marches up here. Fuck, that voice is annoying the shit out of me and I feel my son tensing up, though I can’t even see him.

‘Dean, leave us alone,’ I say. ‘I’ve got this under control.’

‘You’ve got this under control?’ he repeats. ‘If you raised him to—’

‘Excuse me,’ Henry says, physically stepping in between me and Dean. ‘Amelia is right, it’s all under control.’

‘Benji is my son and—’

‘Sir,’—how does Henry stay this unbothered?—‘I get that, but we have this under control. What Benji needs right now, is his mother and as far as I’m aware of, you are not his mother.’

I’m not as unbothered as Henry is. This bothers me in a way that I can’t keep silent anymore. ‘This is your fault,’ I blurt out. ‘You have no consideration at all, now do you? What was the real reason that you wanted to watch his match? You barely went to his matches before our divorce. What is so damn special about this one?’ I gently push Henry aside, before I let out a laugh when I see Dean’s face. ‘Oh my, you are unbelievable. This had nothing to do with you wanting to get to know your son or be there for your son. This has everything to do that your brothers are coming over soon! You just want to show our son off and his accomplishments.’

‘That is not true.’

His left eyebrow just went up a bit, a clear sign he is lying. ‘Get out, Dean. Next weekend the kids, if they want to, are yours again, but right now you need to go.’ He wants to stammer something about not leaving, but I’m dead serious now. ‘Leave!’

He shakes his head out of frustration, slamming another door, before walking away.

As if he was waiting for it, because Benji opens the door and wraps his arms around my shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, mom,’ he says.

‘No, no, no, don’t you dare apologize for this,’ I say, as I run my fingers through his sweaty hair. I let out a deep sigh. ‘Next time we will not let him join your match, unless you want him to.’

Benji lets go of me, but I hold his face in my hands, when I notice his held back tears. ‘Okay, mom.’

I press a kiss on his forehead. ‘You did really well,’ I tell him.

Benji takes a deep breath, sinking his teeth in his bottom lip. ‘I’m sorry, coach,’ he says.

Henry simply frowns, placing a heavy hand in the back of Benji’s neck. ‘Why?’

‘I let you down.’

‘No, no, no, you didn’t. You were outstanding.’ Henry smiles at my son, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You can and should be very proud of yourself, because I know I am and your mom is too, that I know for sure.’

Benji simply nods and wipes away his tears. ‘Go sit with the rest, okay?’ I suggest to him and he nods. ‘I’ll be there in a second.’

‘Congrats, champ,’ Henry says, ‘second place is very good.’

‘Yeah,’ Benji says with a smile, before walking away.

I finally let out that frustrated breath I have been holding since Benji walked out of the bathroom stall. ‘Fuck,’ I mumble underneath my breath. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why are you apologizing?’ he asks.

‘You got sucked into some family drama as the new coach. Highly doubt that was what you signed up for.’

‘Listen, Amelia,’ Henry says, causing me to look up, since he sounds so sincere, ‘I know how shitty a divorce can be and it takes time for the respective parties to find their ways. From the looks of it, you did and your ex husband hasn’t. That this happened… It’s not what you want and in an ideal world, it wouldn’t have happened. I understand. Just… Just give it time, okay?’

‘I gave him five months,’ I say, ‘even longer than that. It just seems that he can’t be the dad they deserve.’ This is already way too much information that I wanted to share, especially with a man like him. That doesn’t stop me from oversharing some more, since Henry has this unexplainable vibe, that makes me want to spill my guts. ‘They don’t even want to visit him anymore.’

‘And you aren’t forcing them?’

‘No, of course not.’

Henry smiles. ‘Then you are already doing better than most.’ He takes a step closer and places a hand on my shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes me feel so noticed. ‘You’re a good mom and Benji loves you a lot.’

I bite my bottom lip. ‘Yeah…’

‘He does, really,’ he says, when he senses my lack of reaction. ‘He even told me after practice the day before yesterday. Not many kids that age gush over their moms the way he does.’

Okay, I have been holding in the tears for too long now, because they spill over my cheeks. ‘Shit, sorry,’ I say, wiping the tears off my face. ‘I shouldn’t cry over this.’

’No, it’s understandable, Amelia. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry.’

‘No, no, no,’ I quickly say. ‘It’s just that… I pulled my shit together during the whole divorce process and… I mean… I don’t know. I’m sorry, you don’t care about this at all. I shouldn’t dump my unsorted feelings out on you.’

‘Mom, the award ceremony is going to start,’ I hear Isabella say and I hastily dry my cheeks.

‘I’m coming, sweetie,’ I say. I hold out my hands in a form of an apology, before I rush passed Henry. ‘Have you seen your dad?’

‘No,’ Isabella says, holding my hand. ‘And I don’t want to see him this weekend. Maybe next weekend.’

‘Okay, but only if you want. Remember that.’

(Let’s hope they work this time) 

Taglist: @diegos-butt​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @thelastsock​ // @onlyhenrys​ // @agniavateira​ // @needmorereading​ // @summersong69​ // @coldmuffinbanditshoe // @chamomilebottom // @toomanystoriessolittletime // @shadesofarrogance​ // @crazybutconfidentaf​ // @oddsnendsfanfics​ // @gearhead66​ // @star017​ // @iloveyouyen​ // @thereisa8ella​ // @thethirstyarchive // @nina-skyee // @rn7rocks // @hollytehmoomin // @star017 // @abschaffer2​ // @cynic-spirit​

[maluminspace]

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Calum Hood/Female Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Requested by: anon x 2

Yule Ball, best friend to lovers, Ravenclaw reader, Calum (your house choice). Murder me please*

hi love could i still request? slytherin calum and ravenclaw reader, best friends to lovers, yule ball. im a hoe for hogwarts au and i hope u can still do my request. thank you 💗 (requested by anon)*

Trigger Warnings: strong language

A/N: this came out longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you as always to @h0tsos and @5-secondsofcolor for all the help pulling this together!

***

Having built up a solid sporting reputation during your six years at Hogwarts, this is proving to be as far from your comfort zone as possible. 

The Triwizard Tournament as a whole, is right up your alley, of course. Especially since the type of dangerous tasks that it used to consist of had long since been discontinued. These days the tournament was basically a huge sports festival, whereby the three school champions, from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, would take part in events such as magical assault courses, spectacular broomstick flying demonstrations and other athletic exercises. Therefore you’ve been excited to watch it for longer than you care to admit. You only wish that it’d been scheduled for next year instead of this one, so that you could actually put your name forward to be the Hogwarts champion. Unfortunately, only students over the age of seventeen have that potential honour open to them and you’ve only just turned sixteen.

Despite all of that, you’re excited for the contest to begin. Before you can enjoy all of the sporting festivities, however, you have the not-so-small formal tradition of the Yule Ball to contend with.

You smooth down the front of your dress robes nervously. Staring at yourself in the full length mirror doubtfully, wondering whatever possessed you to think that this particular shade of periwinkle blue, is one you could pull off. Before your inner jock can convince you to simply attend the ball in your quidditch robes, muffled voices from the Ravenclaw common room beneath your dormitory alert you to the fact that you’re running late. Most of the other girls have already headed down to the Great Hall, leaving only you and your best friends, most of whom belong to other houses, in the whole of Ravenclaw Tower.

Finally convincing yourself that you look decent enough for the formal occasion at hand, you quickly slip a glittery hair slide into your neatly curled hair, Hoping it will distract people from the fact that you look incredibly uncomfortable.

As you head downstairs to your common room, the previously muffled voices you’d heard a moment ago slowly become more distinct. 

“Does anyone know who Ashton’s date is?” 

Michael’s curious tone carries through the mostly empty space just as you reach the halfway point of the spiralling staircase. 

The mention of the Hogwarts Champion causes your insides to squirm uncomfortably and you have to stop for a moment to compose yourself.  Your last interaction with Ashton Irwin, your long-term friend and the celebrated Gryffindor Quidditch captain, isn’t one that you really want to relive, especially not right now, moments before having to endure this stupid fucking ball. 

“No idea…” Calum replies, his voice suggesting that he’s only mildly interested in the answer anyway. “He hasn’t mentioned any names to me.”

The sound of your second friend’s voice brings a subconscious smile to your face, you notice it in the dark window you’d stopped in front of but you quickly shake it off and continue down the stairs.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out if we ever get downstairs!” Luke huffs, raising his voice for the last few words to express his impatience at having to wait for you. 

“There’s no need to yell, Hemmings.” You scowl, trying to act as casual as possible when you reach the last few steps. 

All three of your friends turn to look at you as you enter the room, each of them with expressions of  varying degrees of shock on their faces. 

Michael seems to be the least affected by your somewhat unusual appearance. His look of mild surprise gives way almost instantly to a cheeky grin. “Wow, didn’t know you could scrub up this well.” He smirks, already turning towards the door, too impatient to tuck into the buffet that is waiting in the Great Hall, no doubt. It makes you smile, his love of food is rivalled only by his love for his friends but seeing as he’s eaten nothing since lunch time, you’re unsurprised that his first love is winning out.

“He’s right!” Luke grins, his pretty blue eyes drifting over your outfit as though he’s struggling to take in the sight of you in an outfit that’s so uncharacteristic for you. “I never thought I’d live to see the day where you wore anything other than your uniform, quidditch robes or those ratty old muggle music t-shirts!”

You want to argue with him and explain for the millionth time that those shirts you love to wear, are meant to have holes in them, but he’ll never understand the concept of distressed clothing, he’s a spoiled little pureblood and that’s not likely to change anytime soon. Besides, how can you focus on a mundane argument with Luke when Calum, AKA the most beautiful boy in existence is staring at you as though he might actually be seeing you as someone other than his quidditch training buddy for the first time ever.

“You look incredible.” The Slytherin gasps, his chocolate brown eyes locking onto yours as a faint smile curls the corners of his lips. He nervously runs his hand over his short hair. His fairly recent buzzcut is rapidly growing out but you’re happy to see that he’s decided to keep it blue for the time being. He’d surprised you with the daring dye job a couple of weeks ago, insisting that he’d tried to turn it green as an outward display of his loyalty to Slytherin, but something had gone wrong and it had turned a shade of blue that shockingly resembles the Ravenclaw colour instead. 

You feel the blood in your cheeks rise to the surface of your skin. He’s never complimented you like that before and your heartbeat quickens at the words. It’s ridiculous, you know that. He’s probably never going to see you as anything more than a friend but there’s a tiny bit of hope left, if the sparkle in his eyes right now is anything to go by.

“You don’t look so bad yourself” you manage to giggle, trying not to let the way Calum is looking at you trick you into thinking that the crush you have on him is in any way reciprocated. He’s probably just shocked that you even own something like this to wear. 

Calum smiles at your half-hearted compliment and gestures towards the door. “We better get going before Michael gets too hangry. I’d rather avoid a repeat of breakfastgate, if we can!”

You laugh at the memory of Michael hexing some unsuspecting third year Slytherins a couple of weeks ago. They’d wrongly assumed that their whole house had already finished breakfast, and tried to take the last remaining pastries. Michael, who’d been delayed getting to the Great Hall due to helping Calum with a homework emergency, had been devoid of patience when he aimed a nasty hex at his fellow Slytherins, that caused all four of their faces to break out in a terrible itchy rash. He’d earned himself a week’s detention for his rash actions, but he still maintains that those pastries were worth it.

“Yeah, if we keep him from food for much longer, he might even start breaking out the unforgivable curses!” Luke huffs dryly.

Calum and Luke continue to tease Michael about his irrational anger when it comes to food, all the way down to the main lobby of the castle. You join in a little bit, but ensure that you stand up for Michael too, after all you’ve never taken too kindly to being kept away from your food either. 

It’s only when your group reaches the entrance to the Great Hall that you all fall silent. The large room has been transformed into nothing short of a winter wonderland. Large, ice sculptures shaped like animals line the two longest walls. Each frozen statue is as intricate as the last and all of them have been charmed to move their limbs or revolve on their individual platforms like giant versions of the ballerinas in those little music boxes your muggle mother used to buy for you when you were a little girl.

The usual Christmas tree that sat in the corner of the room at this time of year, had been decorated particularly extravagantly for this occasion. All of its branches are covered in glittering snow whilst real candles burn prettily in fancy spiralling patterns.

A small stage has replaced the spot where the teachers table is usually situated and it’s occupied by a band playing a song you vaguely recognise from the wizarding radio show that Luke forces you to listen to every Friday night when you hang out in his dorm whilst Michael and Calum attend their gobstones club.

“Wow, look at the floor!” Michael exclaims, gesturing at the exquisite frosty patterns etched into the wooden floorboards. 

“And the roof!” Calum gasps, pointing up at the enchanted ceiling.

You take a moment to admire the wonder on your friend’s face, adoring his soft smile and the way the light reflects in his eyes, before following his gaze to the enchanted ceiling where rows of snowflake shaped fairy lights have been hung beneath the clear starry night sky.

“They’ve really gone all out, haven’t they?”

The familiar voice causes a jolt in your stomach and you curse yourself for letting down your guard so easily and so quickly. You’d hoped to avoid Ashton for much longer than this.

Calum nods in response to the older boy’s question. “It looks so beautiful! I can’t believe they did all this in just one afternoon!”

Ashton doesn’t reply, his hazel eyes move from Calum, to Luke, to Michael before settling on you. His expression is somehow thoughtful and confused all at once. You know what’s going through his mind, though and you can’t allow him to voice it.

“Yeah, it looks amazing.�� You interject quickly. “Hey Cal, why don’t you go and get us all a pumpkin juice?”

“Sure.” The blue-haired boy agrees easily. “Do you want one, Ash?” He adds, turning to the Hogwarts champion with a beaming smile.

Ashton shakes his head. “My date’s just gone to get me one, thanks.” He replies, his gaze never drifting from yours.

“Oh yeah, who’d you pick in the end?” Michael questions, his tone inquisitive enough to make him appear interested in the answer. “I bet you had hundreds of offers.”

Luckily, Calum doesn’t hang around for Ashton's response, apparently too eager to get the juice you asked him for.

The raven-haired boy’s eyes never leave yours as he answers. “I chose to bring Arielle Lamer, one of the girls from Beauxbatons.” His gaze drifts over to the long row of buffet tables against one of the walls. “She was my second choice.” He looks back at you, his displaying the same hurt they had done when you’d refused his invitation to the ball a few weeks back. 

“Why did you have to go to your second choice?” Michael asks, his face twisted into a confused expression. “You’re the Hogwarts champion, who in their right mind would have turned you down?”

“Never mind that!” Luke gasps, “why the fuck would she be anyone’s second choice? She’s the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Ashton doesn’t offer a verbal response to either of the confused boys, but his gaze is still locked on you, which unintentionally tells Luke and Michael the truth. 

Your friends stand silently beside you, their mouths agape as they stare between you and Ashton, trying to wrap their heads around the unspoken but incredibly obvious situation.

“I thought you turned me down because you had a better offer.” Ashton frowns, “but it looks like you’ve just come here with our friends, I’m confused…”

Your guilt at having refused Ashton’s offer gnaws away at your insides as your shoulders twitch in a vacant shrug. “I never said there was anyone else, Ash I just…”

“You just didn’t want to come here with me.” Ashton interrupts, the sad realisation in his eyes and voice almost breaking your heart. “I get it.”

“I didn’t think anyone had asked you to the dance.” Calum’s voice is almost too quiet to hear over the music but his shocked tone just about reaches your ears nevertheless. 

You turn to face your secret crush, your heart pounding in your chest. Calum is literally the last person on earth you would want to overhear this conversation. “I never lied to you, Cal… if you’d asked I’d have told you.”

“That’s not the point.” Calum shrugs. “You got asked to the Yule Ball by Ashton fucking Irwin and you turned him down, just to hang out with three dateless losers. Why would you do that?”

The truth almost slips past your lips, but you manage to replace it with a vaguer response before you embarrass yourself even further. “Because I just don’t see Ashton that way.” 

“But he’s the fucking Hogwarts champion and probably the hottest guy in the whole school.” Calum insists, gesturing a little too wildly with his full hands and sloshing pumpkin juice over the floor.

Before Calum can make any more mess, Luke steps forward and takes the drinks from him before shuffling back to his spot next to Michael. 

Despite your initial urge to tell Calum the truth about why you’d refused to come to the dance with Ashton, your anger at his persistence is starting to override it. “Well why didn’t you ask him to the dance if you love him so much?” You counter, trying not to raise your voice too much. 

Calum frowns, glancing over to Ashton for a second before returning his attention to you. “Stop trying to deflect, I’m asking you a simple white question here!”

“I just wanted to come here with you, okay?” You reply snappily, gesturing at Luke and Michael faintly with one hand but never taking your eyes away from Calum’s. You can only hope that your weak attempt at trying to imply that your other friends are included in the ‘you’ that you’d just spat out, was enough.

Calum opens and closes his mouth a few times like he’s trying to speak but his vocal chords are refusing to comply.

Taking advantage of the continued silence from your friends, you continue your reply to Calum’s initial question. “Not that I really owe you an explanation, but; I love Ashton as a friend and the thought of coming here with him as more than that just didn’t feel right.” You turn to Ashton, the guilt that had been laying heavily in your chest since your conversation with him a few weeks ago, finally giving way to a sense of acceptance that you’d done the right thing. “I’m sorry, Ash. You know I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

Ashton nods in recognition of your apology. “I know. I think I understand why you had to say no to me.”

There’s a sickening theory in your mind that Ashton’s realised that you have feelings for Calum. That’s something that you’re just not ready to be proven right about. Knowing that there’s no way to shut Ashton down without inadvertently giving away your own secret, you take the easy option and turn on your heel before making a run for it, heading straight out of the great hall towards the open doors of the castle.

You barely notice the cold night air biting at every inch of the exposed skin on your arms and face as you stumble out of the entrance hall. Stragglers from the visiting schools were still filtering into the castle but most of them spared you nothing but sideways glances before disappearing inside.

Deciding to hide in a quiet corner until you can gather your thoughts properly, you head down the stone steps and drift across one of the front lawns. Luckily the grass is frosty and your high heels don’t sink into it very much.

You haven’t made it very far before a familiar voice yells your name, stopping you in your tracks. Part of you doesn’t really want to turn around but it’s not like you could outrun the Hogwarts champion in these heels anyway. 

“You’ll catch your death out here.” Ashton pants as he jogs to a stop beside you. “It’s freezing!”

Now that you’ve stopped walking and your initial anger is wearing off, you really start to notice the chill in the air and wrap your arms around yourself as an ill attempt to protect the bare skin of your arms from it. “You sound like my grandma.” You huff, your voice already betraying a slight tremor. 

“She sounds like a smart woman.” Ashton shrugs. “I’m sure she’d think you storming out here without a coat on was a stupid idea.”

You let out a defeated huff, sparing a glance at the warm castle, wishing you’d thought to storm back to your dormitory instead. “She would have thought what I said in there was stupid, too!” You reply, dropping your gaze to the frosty grass at your feet. “I should have been more honest with you and…”

“And Calum?” Ashton interjects, his tone solemn but not at all angry like you’d have expected if he ever found out about your feelings for your Slytherin friend. “I think he’s the one you need to talk to the most. At the very least you need to tell him how you feel.”

The very thought of confessing your feelings for Calum to anyone, especially the Slytherin captain himself, sends a stab of fear through your chest. “I can’t do that…”

“If it helps at all, I think he’s been struggling with similar feelings for you for a while.” Ashton admits, his tone hesitant to and cautious. “If I think back, there’s been plenty of signs there that I should have noticed. The way you two act around each other should have tipped me off a long time ago.”

As much as you want to believe that Ashton’s telling you the truth, you can’t really bring yourself to believe that Calum likes you back. In the back of your mind, you think that Ashton must simply just be doing what he thinks is best. 

“I never should have asked you to come to the ball with me.” The raven-haired boy sighs thoughtfully, “regardless of whether I should have seen whatever it is between you and Calum, I’ve always known that you don’t really feel that way for me.”

That guilt in your chest seems to grow even more. You can’t take the sadness in Ashton’s voice anymore. “I’ve always loved you as a friend, Ash. I just…”

“You only have romantic feelings for Calum, I get that.” Ashton smiles glumly, reaching out to stroke your arm in a comforting gesture. “I hope the two of you can work something out.”

“Me too.”

Calum’s voice takes you by surprise for the second time in just a few minutes. Your face automatically snaps towards him as panic starts to flood your brain.

“I’m gonna leave you two to talk things out.” Ashton announces before you can even begin to form any words. He flashes you one last smile and claps Calum on the shoulder reassuringly before heading back the castle.

Part of you wants to follow Ashton, but your legs refuse to move. “Look Cal, I don’t really know what to say to you right now.”

Calum simply stares at you for a moment as though he’s struggling with the same predicament. 

“Maybe we should just head back…”  You shrug, forcing yourself to take a step past him.

You’ve barely taken a second stride before Calum’s strong hand closes gently around your upper arm. “Please don’t take off again.” He pleads. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” You ask, shivering a little at the prolonged physical contact with your crush.

Calum apparently misinterprets your slight trembling and instantly shrugs off the outermost layer of his dress robes and hands it to you. “About how I’ve been a huge wuss for the past year or so…” He suggests timidly.

You silently accept his jacket-equivalent and drape it over your shoulders. The confusion you feel must show on your face because Calum lets out a humourless laugh. “Okay.” He breathes deeply, dripping his gaze to the floor. “God, I hope you’re not gonna hate me after I tell you this…”

“Calum.” You whisper softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m starting to get worried, what is it?”

Sucking in another deep breath, Calum composes himself before summoning the courage to meet your gaze again. “At the very start of our fifth year, you waited for me on platform 9 ¾ so that we could sit together on the train, remember? Just like you always have done, since our second year.”

You nod, the memory of the bright September morning still clear in your mind, although you have no idea of its significance to Calum’s story. 

“You were wearing those tight jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Your hair was scraped back into a loose bun and your face was twisted into an anxious expression because I was a bit late and you were worried that there wouldn’t be any empty compartments left for us.” Calum explains, a slightly dreamy expression on his face. “Just as you caught sight of me trying to work my way through the crowd towards you, some clumsy seventh year knocked into you. One of your suitcases toppled off your luggage trolley and burst open, a bunch of your books and stuff spilled all over the ground and you looked so fucking pissed off…” he chuckles, subconsciously reaching for hand as he continues. “I know it sounds weird but, that’s the moment that I knew I loved you. The way your cheeks went all flushed when you grumpily threw all your shit back into your suitcase and muttered about how much you wanted to push that dickhead onto the train tracks. Like, I’d had feelings for you before that, but I’d put it down to a silly crush because you're one of my closest friends and we have so much in common. In that moment, though, I just fucking knew that you had my entire heart.”

Your brain struggles to process everything that Calum has just told you as he runs his fingers down your arm in order to wrap them around your hand. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this sooner and I completely understand if you think I’m weird and creepy and don’t want to be my friend anymore…” Calum rambles.

“You were sitting at the Slytherin table, eating jam on toast, laughing at something Michael had just told you.” The words spill from your mouth almost of their own accord. “It was the morning of your first quidditch game as the Slytherin seeker, so you were a bit nervous. I could tell because your smile didn’t reach your eyes and you only nibbled at your toast. That’s the moment that I knew I loved you as more than a friend.”

A shocked expression colours Calum’s face in the seconds before he gasps out his response. “But that was like… four years ago.”

You can feel the blood rising to the surface of your cheeks as you nod, dropping your gaze to try and hide your embarrassment. Before you’ve recovered enough to meet his gaze again, soft fingers rise to cup your face tenderly and you automatically lean into the touch. 

“How the hell did we both miss each other’s feelings like that?” Calum asks, a sigh escaping him as his lips brush your forehead. “I’m sorry I was so oblivious and that I was too scared to tell you about my own.”

Savouring the softness of Calum’s lips on your head, you wrap your arms around his waist, curling into his strong, warm body.

“Shit, sweetheart, you’re trembling.” The Slytherin whispers winding his arms around you to keep you close to him. “Let’s get inside so we can talk more without the fear of freezing to death, yeah?”

As much as you want to take Calum up on his offer before you become an icicle, the thought of breaking away from the hold he has on you is the last thing on earth you’re contemplating at the moment and you tighten your hold on him to express your utter reluctance to let him go.

Calum giggles, stroking your back soothingly before pulling away a little. “I promise I’ll cuddle you as you much as you want once we’re inside.”

The slight shiver that runs through the Slytherin, helps your rational side to win out. “Fine…” You pout, “but you’d better deliver on that promise when we get back to the castle.”

You allow Calum to lead you back across the lawn and up the stone steps to the front doors of the castle. The fact that he keeps one arm around you the whole time, makes your heart flutter in your chest, making you feel very much like a lovesick little puppy.

Just as you enter the warmth of the entrance hall, Calum takes your hand and instead of leading you into the great hall like you’re expecting him to, he guides you to the bottom of the staircase instead.

A confused expression takes over your face before he takes your hands and swallows thickly as though he’s trying to voice something that is incredibly difficult for him to say.

In an attempt to comfort him, you cradle his cheek gently, just as he’d held yours a few moments ago outside. “Is everything okay, Cal?”

Nodding, Calum reaches up to press your hand harder against his face as he meets your gaze. “I just wanted to ask you something before we go back to our friends.” He explains, a light blush rising in his cheeks. “But I’m worried it’s gonna sound stupid now that we’re already here and…”

“You can ask me anything, Cal.” You reassure him.

Before he responds he pulls his wand from his dress robes, pointing it at the ground near your feet and quietly utters a spell. A moment later, a beautiful exotic blue flower sprouts from the floor. Calum leans down to pick it up before handing it to you. “Will you go to the dance with me, like as my date?” He asks nervously

A giant smile bursts across your face as you take the flower and slide it into your hair. “One one condition.” You smirk cheekily, a sudden burst of confidence extinguishing the last of your lingering doubt about how Calum feels about you.

Your date raises a questioning eyebrow, silently urging you to elaborate.

“Well I’m a strong believer in that whole, ‘try before you buy’ thing.” You chuckle when Calum still appears to be utterly confused. “I need to know if you're a good kisser before I agree to be your date to the Yule Ball, Calum.” You clarify, hoping that you’re not going to scare him off by coming on too strong.

Calum mirrors your delighted grin before pulling you closer to him again. His beautiful brown eyes are sparkling joyfully as he allows them to drift down to your lips. He takes a moment to build up the confidence, but when he finally leans forward and kisses you, it’s more than worth the wait. His lips are soft and he kisses with a tenderness that you weren’t sure he was capable of. All-in-all, you’re incredibly impressed and you cling onto the tail end of the kiss for as long as possible before answering your date’s silent question when he meets your gaze again. “That wasn’t bad at all, Hood. If you dance half as well as that, I think tonight will be the perfect first date!”

Tag list: @cherrycolamike @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @loveroflrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @wildmichaelflower @wildfl0wer-meg @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @wildmalumflower @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings @lowpowermodex @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles​ @celticclifford @5-secondsofcolor @queer-5sos @babylon-corgis

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 74: The Goblet of Fire

Lily groaned as she sat up once more, rubbing at her temple. This falling and crashing around every time still never felt any better. Her breath caught in surprise though, and she almost considered this one worth it for the place they'd landed this time. Though she'd never been to these surroundings either, banners hung along the walls along the multiple display cases proclaiming this as the Museum of Magical History.

She'd heard about this place a bit, Mary Macdonald had been here on holiday with her family nearly every summer, as her mother was a curator here. Of course there wasn't a soul in sight now, but the place certainly lived up to its grandeur her roommate had promised. The tiled floors seemed lit beneath with a golden light, every time she placed her foot down again it glowed even brighter. There were wooden columns polished so highly each item on display seemed to be doubled, and when her eyes flickered up she saw the ceiling was so high it was nearly cast in shadows. There was an odd flickering light drawing her eyes almost immediately to the plaque right in front of her, where a roughly hewn wooden cup sat. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames, standing on top of an ancient wooden casket.

She didn't know the spell to activate the plaque into displaying the whole backstory as Mary had promised all the attractions here could, not to mention she was living through a vivid enough retelling of one story, so she merely leaned forward and read:

Created in the 13th century by Iolanthe Peverell, this Goblet of Fire has harnessed the magical energy of all names submitted to it to bring upon the next champion for the Triwizard Tournament in helping to create the next Champion of the Wizarding World.*

Lily arched a curious brow at being able to see this in person, though she was quickly more interested in wondering why she was the only one in here.

Standing up wearily as if she still half expected someone to demand what she was doing here, or for Black to jump out behind the item and purposefully scare her, she gazed around at the other exhibits as well as looking for a directory of where the others might be.

This seemed to be a whole section dedicated to the Peverell family, the next item she spotted as an original copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard which apparently had been written by the brothers according to one theorist who had it on display. She passed some odd diagrams about how to make an invulnerable invisibility cloak, and even a tapestry containing a family tree.

When she finally got to the end of the hall and found nothing, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair at the three corridors, feeling like she was in some sort of maze, though at least all the directions were of some little indication.

To the left promised yet more history of even farther back, a shiny new plaque beneath promising a new exhibit of possible Hogwarts Founders items being discovered. To the right progressed more linear it seemed, a wide banner halfway down in bright flashing colors promising the newest Quidditch World Cup paraphernalia on sale if you'd missed out before.

Straight ahead was yet another side corridor it seemed, even more dimly lit than the one she'd just left, and a bit of rope keeping it apart. It was clearly closed for now, but it seemed it was going to be an offshoot of more pureblood families, possibly they were building one for each of the twenty-eight.

Deciding her best bet of finding those trouble makers was in the bound off area, magic or their own innate ability would lead them there, so chose the left path instead.

James Potter's voice began echoing all around her, and she still automatically cringed at the idea of him being so near her even if it was only his voice. She had no idea if she'd picked the right direction, his voice stayed the same volume level as she traveled along. She wished it would grow faint after a few moments, if just for the relief of his nearly shouting about Harry going to school with an international Quidditch player. What was he hoping, that their son would drop out of school and join-

She stopped dead in her tracks as she realized what she was thinking, then continued walking on even faster, actually forcing herself to pay attention to her surroundings again as if she could outrun her own thoughts. At least no one was around to see the first time she'd acknowledged Harry as 'theirs.'

Turns out she'd only been leading herself right to the source of the problem, as she heard a wild hoot of delight that was now painfully familiar, and stopped just shy of entering a Quidditch exhibit archiving the whole of the sport, which was where the majority of the boys had somehow landed.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were the worst sources of the noise, they'd likely caused an alarm to go off for trying to pry loose the first caught Snitch according to its marker, and had trapped the lot without a care as they chased it madly about the room on a pair of ancient, likely the first made brooms. It was a curious quandary, how far they could go with the little ball before the clanking symbols chasing them caught up to them.

Potter stood underneath all of this, flushed in the face from excitement most likely as the book seemed to be stalling over the feast. Regulus Black stood nearest to her with an eager look on his face as if he wished to join, he was doing a terrible job of hiding this, trying to smother the expression with haughty indifference.

Frank was hovering at the far end, looking in fear of his life passing through the madhouse so she couldn't even get to him. She didn't spot Alice or Peter Pettigrew at all and sighed for the both of them also in here somewhere alone. She envied that now.

Slowly creeping back away before anyone noticed her, she wouldn't put it past Black to sick that device on her somehow, and went off in the opposite direction as fast as she could. She'd already made it back to her original landing spot when still the book seemed to be stalling more than anything, going in excruciating detail over several students from the other schools, foreign foods, and even more attendees at Hogwarts from the Ministry for the proceedings it seemed.

Trying not to flinch as she'd swear the blue fire had grown even brighter as she passed again, she quickly kept going past that room and tried to maneuver her way around while it felt like an idiot was chasing her around screaming this at her. It was a shame really, she would have liked to explore this place under other circumstances, she'd bet Sev had read all sorts of things as knowledgeable as he always was about the magical world. Five years in and she still found herself turning to him for those answers...though lately she was more likely to get a straight answer from a textbook.

He'd been so, evasive lately. With every passing week he drew farther and farther away from her. She wished there was some clear cut answer, and maybe there was if he'd just stop hanging around those disturbing elders in Slytherin-

As if her wandering feet had directed her, she'd apparently diverted at some point following a path without even realizing it and smiled as she found herself in The Hall of Potions. She immediately decided she'd like to try and convince Slughorn to take a trip here, perhaps they wouldn't have time when they got back before their OWL's, but maybe something extra credit for NEWT students?

She passed up Gregory the Smarmy (fl. 1189); a medieval British wizard and Potioneer, who invented Gregory's Unctuous Unction, a potion that makes the drinker believe whoever gave the potion is his or her best friend. She did stop in surprise upon finding almost a shrine built to Arsenius Jigger, she wouldn't be surprised if Sev had built that himself though, as many advances as he'd made in both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, his two favorite subjects. Still she kept browsing as Dumbledore finally called attention and began going over in detail this Tournament, that the Cup would be picking the champions, and that there was going to be an age limit, which admittedly was a relief to her. She liked to think she'd learned a bit about Harry by this time and he wouldn't have tried his hand at this, unlike James Potter, but now he didn't even have the chance.

Finally she came across the one she'd been so eager to find, Vindictus Viridian, her idol in Potioneers. She hadn't even known about him until she stumbled across his portrait one day off the Grand Staircase muttering about the bustle of the students just last month, and after returning several times and taking quite a bit an effort to charm him he'd finally opened his door to reveal to her the Room of Rewards. She'd invested many hours in the library since then finding every one of his achievements, even discovering he'd once been a Headmaster at her school himself.

Lily could sense the chapter was at least halfway over as the students were dismissed, there was a slight sidestep of Harry's own when the Durmstrang Headmaster even spotted Harry and took notice before Moody stepped in, but she realized she'd been fawning over this stuff and still hadn't found Alice with little time to spare. Hoping she hadn't too miserable a time apart from everyone, she didn't bother dragging her gaze away from some of his documented notes over a potion to turn literally anything green.

"You're positive?" Alice asked uneasily, with a faint blush.

"Absolutely," Peter assured, swinging his feet upon his perch with an uninterested look. "Every single time we've landed, it's the first thing Frank's done given the chance. That I've seen anyways."

Alice believed him, but she wasn't sure she liked talking to Peter even if he was reassuring a silly teenage crush. She hadn't really given much of a thought to him before his star roll, but apparently he'd been watching all of them. Now she hoped it was just his, ah, bad first real impression and she was trying to work past that feeling. Regardless, he was good at one thing, changing the subject.

She cast her mind about for some way to pull the conversation back to what she intended when she came in here. He'd been sitting astride a gargantuan stuffed creature, that was hairless with immense fanged teeth, as if some terrifying mixture of a saber toothed tiger and a naked mole-rat. Magic had it pacing about the room in an easy stride that could easily break into a running gate at any moment, though the lifeless eyes promised nothing so violent would happen. Peter was riding sidesaddle with a faraway look on his face, and didn't even flinch as a great winged boar shot past his head, ruffling his hair.

There were all sorts of other extinct creatures about, Alice was particularly captivated by the hippocampus swimming about near the ceiling that was on a nearly head-on collision with a great long-necked beast swimming merely through nothing. Across the room, a yeti was plucking berries from a tree that instantly grew them back and placing them in a basket that never filled, and an erlking seemed to be fishing for some other form of sea serpent quite poorly.

"You can go if you'd like, find him or Evans," Peter offered, she clearly hadn't been hiding her unease as well as she'd hoped. "You don't have to stay and talk to me just because you found me."

"But I want to," she insisted truthfully. "I was hoping to ah, be a bridge for you and your friends, help you lot along to some sort of, understanding."

"Why?" The truly baffled expression made his pointed features in his round face even more childlike.

"Because, I want to help," Alice said. "Isn't that reason enough?"

"You don't know anything about us," he said shrewdly, "you wouldn't know or care for any of this if you hadn't been dragged along."

"But I was," she readied herself, and then jumped up beside him upon the next creatures passing. She wobbled uneasily, before Peter reached out on instinct and grabbed her shoulder to steady her. "Thanks," she smiled, "and I think we had to have been brought along for some reason other than not getting to hear of Neville as much as I'd like. I don't even know if he's really my son."

"I saw the picture you and Frank have of him," Peter shrugged, "he's obviously yours."

Alice blushed quite vividly this time, but refused to be deterred again. "Well, until we meet up with them again, why don't you tell me what it is you want to say to them, maybe I can-"

"If I wanted to talk to them I would be," he spoke calmly, but there was finally a hard edge in his voice that had Alice regretting their proximity for the first time. "James asked me to give them some space, so I am, it's as simple as that."

"Doesn't seem fair," Alice still pointed out, "you haven't done anything, er to them, at this time," she couldn't help but finish awkwardly but with complete conviction.

Peter didn't answer, he clasped his hands in front of him and began kicking the poor creature in its ribs, she imagined if the beast were real it wouldn't be taking too kindly to that. Finally when he did answer, it was to the ceiling, "who knows what we'll really do in the moment, no matter what we're told of it."

"You still think you'll do it again?" Alice asked in surprise.

He squirmed uncomfortably on the ride now, then looked at her with a sharp glare. "Again, what's it to you?"

She didn't have anything to say to that, she really did just want to help. She always wanted to help all the new students be they in her house or not, but when she'd seen the Marauders fighting back in school she hadn't given a passing thought to their internal squabble and had not approached Sirius Black to talk to him about it. She hoped to help now simply because she had heard the story...but maybe she was just trying to be a part of something she didn't belong in.

Her silence seemed to have dragged more out of him than her questions though, he turned on the offense. "I don't know, okay? I've never had to think of it before! James and Sirius are the smartest, strongest blokes in that school, I couldn't even imagine what life would be like after we graduated before all this, but it bloody hell wasn't this future! If, You-Know-Who threatened me, my mother- would he, could James -?"

His voice cracked, he didn't look at her or anything anymore. The book had been droning on in the background this whole time, James Potter's voice echoing around them emphasizing the topic of this like nothing else could. Harry's life had continued on after this betrayal, he hadn't seemed to be dwelling on it at every opportunity as Halloween arrived, they spent time with Hagrid, and then the Goblet was spitting up names for each school. She wished she could think of something else to say, but began to admit to herself perhaps she was nosing in where she didn't belong. She hadn't a chance to say anything else regardless, as Harry's name came out of where it really shouldn't, straight from that cup as well, and they all vanished once more.

*The idea for the setting of this chapter was when I originally noticed The Tale of the Hopping Pot has an oddly similar story to this random person on the Potter Family tree in Pottermore. Go see Seamus Gorman's video for more details who elaborated on this much more.

[yukiwrites]

Balthus, Ruining Everything

Thank you so much for the support and the patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! I hope you like it~

Summary: Khalid had returned home ready to work hard to become a worthy King so as to strengthen relations with Fódlan. However, bringing Balthus along was a terrible mistake, no matter how much of his own word he had given in the past. How could he ruin even a traditional sport of Almyra?!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Despite the eventual skirmishes against Fódlan, it wasn't as though the entirety of Almyra was focused on their shared border. It was a large country, with hundreds of thousands of people going on with their lives despite the war.

As diverse as its culture was, however, all of Almyra joined together to celebrate and participate in their most popular sport: the national Yağlı güreş. It was a practice Khalid had had little contact with throughout his life (especially after enrolling in the Officer's Academy), apart from watching his father's eventual matches during his childhood, so he was looking forward to organizing everything for this year's tournament.

He came back after the Yağlı güreş season had started around the kingdom, though he still had time to prepare for the Kırkpınar that would occur at the capitol, a few weeks from now. Since he was also accumulating more and more duties for the eventual ascension to the throne, Khalid welcomed the responsibility readily.

He would be in charge of overseeing the quality, quantity and storage of the oil; ordering the fields to be cleaned for the matches; sending out invitations to honored guests; preparing the venue; separating the budget for the eventual prize and so on.

The Grand Championship consisted not only of the winners from the provinces but also of wrestlers that lived in the capitol per se, with the last one standing to challenge the current Baspehlivan, Nader. Should they win, they would be allowed to choose between the prize money and a favor from the King -- though the former had so many restrictions barely anyone chose it, prefering to go with the money instead.

Khalid was almost humming to himself as he scratched his chin with the feather pen he was using to sign some reports.

His small bubble of joy burst the moment the door to his office opened with a bang, revealing the one 6'6'' oaf Khalid did not want to see for at least another decade.

"Hey there, bud!" Balthus greeted, already making himself comfortable on the chair in front of Claude's desk. "I got kicked outta the field just now 'cause they're terraforming or somethin'. You know anything about it?"

"Annnd my peace is gone, isn't it. I can feel it." Khalid muttered to himself, though loud enough for Balthus to hear and ignore. Sighing, the prince straightened his back, not even bothering to look at the man who's come to make a mess out of his family. "In a month, we'll be hosting the Grand Championship of Yağlı güreş, and I want everything to be done beforehand so there are no complications."

"Yagli- what's that? I saw some huge barrels being unloaded on my way here, too, do they have anything to do with this? Is it a party? Booze!?" Balthus got more and more excited as he prattled on, almost banging his huge hands on Claude's table.

Groaning, the prince finally put his pen down, afraid that that oaf would destroy anything, or worse -- mess up the piles of 'read' and 'unread' reports, which would take at least another day of work to organize again.

"Yağlı güreş means 'oil wrestling'. It's the oldest sport practiced in Almyra and also a national sport."

Balthus snorted, then placed his fist atop his palm, as though remembering something. "Wait, I saw some dudes doing something like that back in some underground arenas! I didn't know it was an almyran sport, though, nice."

"Yeah, 'nice'." Khalid rolled his eyes, intent on going back to his work.

Balthus didn't move, though, and just made himself comfortable on the chair, as though he intended to spend the time he couldn't spend training, bothering Claude instead. "Anything else?"

"Muh? Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"..." Khalid narrowed his eyes to the large man, placing his chin atop his clasped hands. "Hey, you know what? Why don't you try it?"

"What? Oil wrestling?" Balthus was so focused on rubbing the dirt from under his nail he had to blink to look up to Claude. "What's in it for me?"

"For one, you can train for it so you'll have your training grounds back. I'll even introduce you to an old Master who doesn't have ciraks so he can teach you everything about oil wrestling."

Balthus twisted his lips, shifting his weight towards Khalid as though waiting to hear something more. "Yeah? Sounds fun."

"... There's also prize money if you win." 

"Oh yeah, babey, now you're talking!" Balthus jumped up, the action shaking Claude's table, threatening to mess up his papers. "Where's that Master?"

Khalid quickly slapped his stacks of documents before they all scattered due to the oaf's rough movements and sighed. "Call the attendant standing outside, I'll have him send word for you."

Balthus was taken outside the palace, to the Master's residence. From the looks of it, that man had been competing since his youth, but never found a pupil worthy of his skills -- though now he had to accept Balthus due to the royal decree, so he wasn't too happy about all of this.

However, once the master saw Balthus' physique, his attitude did a 180º change.

"I will show you the ways to win quickly. You're big, but your opponents will be more experienced, so you'll want to quickly slide your hands into their kispets to pin them down."

Balthus sputtered. "I gotta wha-"

"Of course, it is forbidden to get actually intimate with your opponent -- you'll have to be respectful! -- but as long as there are no genitalia touching, you'll do great." The man brushed his beard with one hand, waving to a servant with the other. "Now go on, change into your trousers. I'll show you everything I know."

"This is insane. I love it." Balthus gurgled a laugh as the master pushed him to follow the servant.

Truly there was no time for Balthus to learn the actual techniques, though him being a former soldier with stamina to spare was a major plus. These matches could go on for hours or even days, so one had to be thoroughly prepared before every single one of them.

Balthus even stayed over the master's manor for the duration of his training, which made Khalid incredibly thankful. The prince never thought the oaf would actually go through with it, but he wasn't about to complain about the peace and quiet he finally got, no way. Nope.

On the eve of the championship, the master invited Balthus for dinner, feeling excited about Yağlı güreş for the first time in a few decades. "Truly, the only worthy foe to ever enter the field was His Majesty Arash, though he was still only a prince back then."

Balthus stopped his fork immediately, his interest piqued. "... oh yeah? Arash was good at this back in the day, huh?" he licked his lips. "Can I fight him?"

"Pftt-ahah!" The old man snorted, coughing a laugh along with the tea he just drank. "You want to challenge the King to a bout, boy? Don't be ridiculous."

"No, I'm serious. How can I fight him?"

If he could get himself all over Arash while covered in oil, wouldn't that be amazing or what?!

Twisting his lips, the old man started thinking. "Well, if you really wanted to, I don't think there are restrictions about that if you use it as your prize from winning the championship."

"What? Wasn't it just money?"

"Technically it's all people pick, but you can choose between that or a wish for the King or Queen to grant. Though there are so many restrictions it's just easier to go with the money."

"Oh, fuck yes. I gotta win this." Balthus rolled his shoulders in anticipation. His chest even got all hot and bothered just by imagining his hands going down Arash's- hnn!

"Haha, that's the spirit, boy! Winning against Nader will be hard, but I wouldn't have trained you if I didn't think you couldn't win!"

The two shared a loud laugh before gulping down their drinks, both of them hopeful for tomorrow's events.

Khalid hadn't heard from Balthus ever since he'd sent him to train, so he was actually surprised to see him amongst the competitors -- even more so to watch him climb the ranks so quickly despite being a foreigner who just got introduced to the practice.

The audience murmured amongst themselves, wondering where that strange man had come from; a mix of not wanting outsiders to meddle with their beloved sport along with the right amount of excitement about the fresh meat on stage.

When Balthus, already so greasy he actually reflected light, started the match against the defending champion, Nader, Khalid felt a foreboding premonition.

What could it be? Why would he feel like that?

Was it because, no matter the outcome, Balthus would just return to the castle and keep bothering him? Or was it due to something else? Usually, his gut feelings were always right, but this time he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was warning him about.

Since everything pertaining to Balthus was just a big disgrace in Khalid's eyes. What else could that man do to ruin the prince's days?

"We have a winner! What a surprising turn of events! The outsider, Balthus, defeats our champion by paca kazik!"

"Paca kazik? How did he get so good?" Khalid murmured as Balthus kissed Nader's hand as it was customary before helping the older man up and giving him a huge thank you hug.

The announcer started the usual speech about allowing the competitor a choice, though was already meaning to introduce Khalid so the prince could handle the prize money to the winner when Balthus took a step forward.

"I want to have a wish granted!" He spoke in a loud voice, which reverberated through the open field as though he was using amplifying magic. The audience gasped in unison followed by the sound of all heads turning to the King and Queen who sat beside Khalid.

Tiana narrowed her eyes, always wary of the libertinous man. "Speak."

"I want to challenge the former Baspehlivan, His Majesty Arash, to a match!"

Loud gasps of surprise from all sides echoed around the field, the eyes alternating between the bold foreigner and the silent Royals.

"I will not-" Tiana started to reply immediately, but Arash's hand on hers stopped the Queen's words. Surprised, she looked at her husband, intent on not allowing that man near Arash, when the look on his face made her lose the air.

He was smiling so excitedly! It had been years since he had participated in a match and Tiana knew the sport meant a lot to him, especially since he held the title of Baspehlivan for over a decade before stepping down to ascend the throne. The Queen's shoulders sagged, though her frown remained.

"Dear, that man has no pure intentions-"

Arash ran his thumb through Tiana's hand. "I know, my dear wife. Worry not; I'll put him in his place."

Then it all clicked for Khalid.

That foreboding he felt wasn't about Balthus returning to the castle, but about him slathering himself with oil and rubbing it all on his own father! Gods, he was about to gag. "Father, you're not planning to-"

"I will accept your challenge!" Arash spoke in a loud voice, cutting his son and any curious murmur around the spectators. "Shall we being right away, contender?"

"Oh hell yeah, sir." Balthus rubbed his hands, hopping in place to get his blood flowing.

"Allow me to change," Arash got up from his seat, placing a kiss on Tiana before turning back to the changing room right outside.

Khalid shot up from his spot, stomping towards Balthus, who had gone into a tent to hydrate himself.

"What are you thinking? You could've just accepted the money and finally rid yourself of your debts-"

Balthus raised his index as he gulped the water. "Hah, and miss getting into your dad's pants? No way in hell, kid!"

Khalid took a step back, his face entirely pale. In your dad's pants, in your dad's pants, in your dad'-

"Ugh, yuck, I-" the prince gagged, covering his face with one hand lest he threw up there and then.

"Catch ya later, I'm about to get laid!" Balthus slapped Claude's back before stepping out of the tent, heading back to the center of the field just as Arash approached.

Khalid couldn't watch.

He just couldn't.

Once the referee signaled the start of the match, both men threw themselves at one another, sliding around the greasy grass from all the oil that slid down from the competitors.

Balthus almost broke the 'no intimate touching' rule three times in less than ten minutes, his huge hands not being of any help as he tried to literally get into Arash's pants.

That man was built like a rock! And Balthus had wrestled against many tough guys back in his day.

Gods, just feeling Arash's rasped breathing by his ear and feeling his hands try to grab his trousers made him-

"I'm having the time of my life here, Arash." Balthus panted as they slid off of each other for a moment before joining together one more time.

"Stop, stop, stooop, I can even hear it from this far!" Khalid covered his face with both hands, groaning so loud it looked like he was in physical pain.

The worst part was yet to come, however.

The match simply didn't end!

Both sides were almost evenly matched to the point that one couldn't get a definite grab on the other's trousers, stretching the match for one hour. Two hours.

When it was about to tick three hours, Khalid was already sure he was dead. He had died and came back to life at least five thousand times just by watching that pervert roll around his father for so long. The few times he stole glances at them, he could clearly see Balthus trying to break the rules, though Arash was always fast enough to counter it before being violated.

"Let this end, let this end, let this-" Khalid chanted under his breath with closed eyes, praying to every single god he knew of.

"Annd match! It seems like our former Grand Champion hasn't lost his edge yet, folks! Let's give a round of applause to our King, folks!" The announcer quickly got up from the place he had been sitting since one hour ago, dodging the greasy spots on the grass to approach the combatants.

Arash smirked to the fallen Balthus as the young man faced the sky with wide eyes.

"I lost?" He babbled as he watched the King walk away, the memory of that winning smirk etched into his mind. "That was... hot! What the fuck, and I thought they couldn't get hotter? This couple is turning out to be the best investment I've ever done in my life. No way I'm leaving this place now."

Too far away to hear Balthus' monologue, Khalid shuddered with yet another foreboding feeling. What else was Balthus going to ruin next?!

[naomixhill]

21 August 2020

Push me to the edge All my friends are dead

Even with the passage of time, this remains the worst day of the year for me. Each year has its own twist on this day, but the pain is always there ricocheting through every ligament of my body.

Today, I wake up to a soaked pillowcase at 5:30 a.m. and can’t get back to sleep. I pace around the living room as a quiet river continues to flow down my face. After several failed attempts for rest, I throw on a pair of camo Nike Pro Spandex shorts, a green sports bra, and hit the gym. Lately, when I’m not getting high, I am running my endorphins up to feel. I guess no matter what we do in life, it is all just a measure to relieve pain. So, I take two scoops of pre-workout, and hit the gym. My heart is unsteady, and its palpitations mirror little earthquake foreshocks. When I get to the gym, I hardly stretch and begin with ninety-five pound deadlifts. As I struggle, I tell myself no one is great who has not experienced great pain. And I believe that. Passion gets you to the table, but it is the pain that is the driving force behind anyone who has accomplished monumental things. And so I finish my deadlifts and move onto sets of forty push-ups. I am in excruciating pain by the third set. And thereafter, I run; and it is here, on a treadmill of a LA Fitness, green and black streaks run down my vision until I can’t see. The last thing I recall is flying off the treadmill, and hitting the wall behind me, hard.

When I wake up, I am confused and there is a man hovering over me asking me if I’m alright. I can hear the words, but it takes me a moment before I understand. The back of my head is bleeding. He is talking fast, explaining that I fell and they’ll call an ambulance, but before he finishes his thought, I am standing up and walking toward the door. I am tripping over my feet, and my ears are ringing. No one tells you that the path to self improvement isn’t linear.

When I get to my car, it is a little after 8 a.m. Little streaks of color burst through my vision, but I ignore them. I realize that I might have a concussion because I have been here before. A flash from Newark, Ohio, 2012, comes back to me from when I jumped off a bridge. I wish I had died that time, but I couldn’t even kill myself properly. So the keys go into the ignition of my shitty little Ford, and I drive to Krogers, the poorest excuse for a grocery store that the midwest could offer. But I have come to this Krogers for almost ten years to buy the same yellow flowers from the same old lady, and I will likely continue to do so until either she or I dies.

I am not sure how I got here because I can hardly see at this point, but I make it to the shitty industrial westside of the city. This area was never vibrant, but up until the 1980s, there were factories here once. Now it is all abandoned buildings, foreclosed homes, fucking horrible gas stations — you might get stabbed, but maybe not — and infested with crime. The income is half and the crime is triple and somehow that always seems to be how it goes. It reminds me of my days in Philadelphia here. Why they decided to bury you here, I will never understand.

But I am here. And, like every year, your grave is covered in leaves and dirt. I often wonder if I am the only one who ever visits you, but I come. And I will always come. I spend a copious amount of time manicuring your headstone, and lay the yellow roses down next to your last name. As I hug your headstone, I prick myself on one of the thorns. It seems right. 

You were a state champion track star, poet extraordinaire, hip hop enthusiast, gentle soul, and truly evil human all wrapped into one. I met you in the summer of 2009 when I was conditioning with the track team. I still had a thick Rhode Island accent in those days, but you liked it. And I was worse at running than I was at speaking, which might not be saying much, but you helped me. Everyday, you trained me, and we built a friendship. You wrote me poems and gave me words of affirmation all the time. You were my biggest advocate.

2009 was hard for me. I was new to Ohio, and I hated the midwest. White people just aren’t normal here, I don’t know how else to say it.  So I gravitated to you and your friends and our track team. And it didn’t take long before there were no two people closer. But once the school year started, the people I was running with told me about you — the things you had done, the people you had been, your perception around the school. You were a senior and off to trade school half the day, but I was going to be there three more years. I needed other people to like me and believe in me even half as much as you did. So I abandoned you and moved on. 

Until I didn’t. On September 4, 2009, we met again at a party. We were both in respective relationships, but it didn’t stop us from kissing in the basement of a multi-million dollar home in a suburb of Columbus, Ohio that shouldn’t exist. I have no idea what possessed us to do that, but we did, and it altered my life. In one second, I lost all my friends. And so, not knowing where to turn, I came back to you and we met the following Monday at the local Starbucks. I had an exam the following day, so you suggested that we studied at your house.

I agreed. But shouldn’t have. Because the moment we walked into your house, I was in a forced grip, dragged upstairs while kicking hard, and screaming as you undressed me. The rest is self explanatory. 

I was on drugs after that, so I don’t remember much at all. But I do remember two years later, when you were shot brutally — 73 fucking times — by the Columbus police. And I do fucking remember you calling me that night for the first time, and I didn’t pick up. And I do remember the memorial in your family’s home, the same one that I had been in all those years ago, and I do remember your mother pointing at me and saying “It’s you. You’re the girl.” And I do remember her taking me to your bedroom and showing me photos of myself scattered across your desk with our shared poetry and letters. So what the fuck.

None of it makes any sense even now.

[virtchandmoir]

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir Ready to Rock Prince George one final time

October 11, 2019

Three-time Olympic Champions Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir are performing in PG one last time as part of Rock The Rink Tour. (Photo supplied by Danielle Earl and CN Centre)

They say all good things must come to an end.

For the dynamic figure skating duo of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir it’s one last chance to dazzle the crowd and say thank you to all the fans who have supported them over the past 22 years.

The three-time Olympic champions are part of the Rock the Rink Tour, which makes a stop in Prince George tomorrow night from the CN Centre.

In an exclusive interview with MyPGNow.com, both Virtue and Moir reflect on their storied careers.

“We’re pouring our hearts into every moment we get on the ice and I think the overriding emotion is just gratitude and we’re so thankful for all the support over the years, really appreciative of the opportunity to enjoy performing,” said Virtue.

“It’s been a really special journey so it obviously is a little emotional when it comes to a close but it’s hard to be too upset when you feel so lucky to have had such a great 22 years. It’s a fun way to tour to be on the ice will all of your friends, many of them from around the world with such a talented cast and we’re soaking in every last moment,” added Moir.

Virtue and Moir’s list of accomplishments includes being the most decorated figure skaters in Olympic history, which was capped off by a flawless performance at last year’s Winter Games in Pyeongchang, South Korea.

Virtue believes after skating to a third Olympic gold, the timing was right to walk away from competitive skating, making the announcement official in September.

“I think that was a really natural decision for us because we knew even in Pyeongchang and the lead up to that would be our last competitive experience and what a way to go out as it was just a fairy tale from carrying the flag to the team events, that was a dream come true as a competitive athlete and that’s exactly what we set our sights on when we announced a comeback in 2016.”

“We also know what it means to be at our best and to continue to push the boundaries and push ourselves we need to invest a lot into training and after 22 years, I just don’t think we’re at the place in our lives to commit to that level we know we would need to ensure the product remained top-notch.”

Was there anyone moment that stood out in your storied careers more than others?

“We can say our best moments as athletes came at the Olympic games and what a dream come true, for an athlete to be able to say that those are the moments that we take away in our sport because we prepare so much for the Olympics, not that we don’t for the Worlds but the Olympics seem to go to another level,” added Moir.

“Being named the flag bearers for 2018 was such a career highlight and that we were given the platform and the privilege of representing our country on the world stage is the honest honour of all I think,” stated Virtue.

When asked if both of them have inspired a new generation of figure skaters in Canada, they responded by saying their hope is to see kids achieve their dreams in whatever they choose.

“As athletes and Olympians, we’re given a certain platform that we don’t take lightly as I think it is a serious part of our jobs and roles that we feel very grateful for and if it’s not in figure skating we just hope to inspire people to be active and to embrace the joy of sport and the lessons that it brings.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to be an Olympic champion or an ice dancer but just pursuing your own passion fearlessly is a beautiful sentiment we wish to impart,” explained Virtue.

“We know that they’ll be some Canadian kids that are coming up that will just blow our records out of the water and that makes us very, very happy and I think by the time we realize by the time their careers end, those kids will be Olympic champions themselves, which is very exciting,” said Moir.

Once the tour is over, Virtue and Moir will enter uncharted territory, a challenge they’re both looking forward to.

“What a jumping-off point. It’s a really exciting place to be as I can’t remember a time where we had some opening in our schedule where we were able to say yes to some things and take on new challenges, which was really refreshing.” added Virtue.

“They’ll be a focus on schooling and on the business side. I think as athletes we’re used to being our own bosses so there is an entrepreneurial spirit and I look forward to pursuing more projects that are close to my heart like charitable work and more stuff with young women keeping them in sport.

“The more I hear that question on whether or not we should be nervous about our next phase or if we’re more anxious the more I think we should be but I don’t feel that I feel excited since you only get so many years on this rock and you want to make the most of it,” added Moir.

“I can honestly say that I’ve gotten the most out of figure skating that I can.”

The Rock the Rink Tour kicks off at 7pm and will also include fellow figure skating legends like Patrick Chan, Elvis Stojko and Katelyn Osmond.

—My Prince George Now

[the-god-of-nihon]

Meanwhile in an Alternate Universe

So what if the cast were the MCs of their own stories? What sort of genres and story structures would lend themselves to each of the characters’ personalities, and traits? What kind of different scenarios can you put them in, while still retaining their character?

I mean, what sort of stories would the characters fit best if they were the MCs?

Like how everything about Oscar's backstory and character screams, "traditional hero's journey." Outside of the Ozpin stuff, he'd fit right in a generic heroic fantasy or sword in the stone type set-up.

Basically an excuse to think up interesting AU ideas, without committing to writing anything. Here are some of mine.

Weiss - Political Intrigue Drama

Weiss has to deal with her estranged family while navigating a complex world of politics and business. Can she keep her family's business running in a harsh, cut throat industry, as well as protect herself, and her family from those that would sabotage them? Even if some of those people might be closer than she thinks.

Blake - Spy Drama

As a spy working in the service of her country, Blake and her colleagues' efforts were the only thing keeping their small country from being overtaken by the larger, more powerful nations around it. But just how far is she willing to go for her country, and what is she willing to sacrifice to ensure its safety?

Yang - Action/Sports

Yang is an up-and-coming rookie to the female pro kick boxing world, and she has to prove her skills and determination to make it to the top.

Jaune - Adventure/Comedy/Fantasy

Kids always want to be heroes when they grow up, Jaune was no different. Smothered by his family, and over shadowed by his siblings, he sets out on his own to defeat evil and fight for what is right. The only hiccup? He’s a healer.

Nora - Historical Fantasy/Action

An orphaned child that grew into a powerful, but kind Shield Maiden, and took up the name Nora Valkyrie. Guarding the realms of man from monster and human alike. She fights in the hope that one day her actions will earn her a place she can finally belong.

Pyrrha - Romantic Comedy

Pyrrha is a lonely girl, who only ever wanted to find someone who could understand her and treat her like she was everybody else. Which is difficult because she’s a super strong, but has a hard time controlling her strength.

Ren - Wuxia/Cooking/Comedy

Ren is a wandering chef, that wishes to travel all over the world and learn about other cultures and their cuisine. But in a world where food is the life blood of society, one is always in danger of having their food and recipes snatched away at a moments notice. But Ren is not afraid, for he is a master of both martial arts & the culinary arts; and is armed with his specialized cooking based fighting style.

Weiss - Isekai Comedy/Adventure

Weiss Schnee is beautiful, well-mannered, & from a wealthy family, with numerous business prospects to pursue after graduation. One wouldn’t be remiss to say she had her future laid out for her already by the age of 17. She wouldn’t struggle for work, nor opportunities barring some sort of familial tragedy. And yet, Weiss found life to be so very dull. She yearned for something that would bring stimulation to her life; little did she know, she should be careful what she wishes. On a day like any other, Weiss Schnee is suddenly whisked away to another world. A world where her looks, & her father’s money won’t help her get ahead. One she is interested in testing herself against.

Blake - Harem Comedy

Blake is your average bookish college girl. Completely content to go unnoticed so she can enjoy her smutty romance novels in peace. But one day she is chosen by a god of love, due to her abundance of (second hand) knowledge, to spread love to the people of the world. So now Blake has been tasked with wooing as many people as she can, or she'll be punished. Except Blake has never actually dated anyone. Well she'll probably figure it out.

Yang - Western/Adventure

Yang Xiao Long is a bounty hunter. One of the best bounty hunters on the frontier. She's been after a specific mark for years, but they always manage to get away from her. She’s in no hurry though, she’ll get them, it’s only a matter of time. Yang Xiao Long always gets her mark.

Jaune - Drama/Coming of Age

Jaune Arc is a failure. His one chance at making something of himself ended up with his almost going to prison. His only saving grace being that he was 16 at the time. Now 18, and freshly out of juvie, Jaune has to figure out how to make it on his own with the authorities just waiting for him to screw up. No skills, no experience, and everyone around him expecting the worst of him; will he become an up-standing member of society, or do old habits die hard?

Nora - Modern Fantasy/Coming of Age

Stories of gods and their offspring are found in cultures and mythologies the world over. The story of Nora Valkyrie is one such story. She must learn not only to balance the two halves of her life, but also comes to terms with her parentage, and the prom is tomorrow!

Pyrrha - Action Adventure

Pyrrha Nikos was destined for greatness, from birth her life had been laid out for her, and she was reaised to be a champion of the people. To strive to be better than those around her, and that came before her. Now she must under take a quest to claim a power that will change the world, one that will no doubt be fraught with peril.

Ren - Action/Drama Revenge Story

Lie Ren is on a quest of revenge. After the murder of his parents & the destruction of his village, he will stop at nothing to find the one responsible. And make them pay. But will he become a monster just to sate his hunger for vengeance?

What do you think? How could these ideas work, or not work? What would you do to improve them, or push them further? What are some story ideas you think the characters would work well with?

[riverrunfar]

I will be here for you.

Pairing: Bloodhound x Reader

Fandom: Apex Legends

Warnings: mentions of depression, depression, angsty with happy ending. (And lots of support uwu)

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

You had just gotten back from losing the most recent games of Apex. You don't know why but losing this time made you feel unusually sad. You had come home to a nice home, where you had lived with your partner, Bloodhound, who had actually won the last games. You were extremely proud of them because you knew how hard they worked to get where they are now. But something about that loss really made you just want to sit down and cry.

Unfortunately Bloodhound was not here to comfort you at the moment, being the champion and all, they had to stay behind and participate in the next following games. You weren't invited to join, like many other legends that had lost, so you could not go. But you were invited to go watch but you didn't want to. Have to stress about watching your lover fight in a bloodsheding sport was not a good way to spend your weekend. So you stayed home and tried not to worry about your partner, knowing that they would do fine on their own.

But you just couldn't understand why you were so sad right now. Maybe it was because you were alone? Or that you had let your team down? You couldn't put your finger on it. You had been doing everything right, you had been training hard along side with Bloodhound, and you have been eating well, keeping your health steady. So what was making you so sad?

You didn't know, but simply thinking about it made you feel sick, made you want to cry. You were frustrated and just wanted to throw your body around, scream, cry, throw up. It was just so hard for you. But if you were being honest with yourself, this wasn't the first time this has happened. It has happened on many occasions.

Bloodhound has suggested that you may be depressed, and need to talk to someone and get some help. But that couldn't be the case, you told yourself over and over again. But...

Maybe it was.

The thought of that being true made you just want to sob. You just really needed someone here with you. But everyone that you knew were either participating in the games or going to watch the games.

Your head was screaming, asking, and pleading for help as you sat on the floor helplessly. Nothing and no one could help you right now. You had to find a way to make yourself feel better. You needed to calm yourself down or else you might do something rash, something unforgivable. You had a major headache but you refused to take pills, along with any type of medicine.

You didn't want to talk to anyone because you feared you would waist people's time. You knew sleeping would only make you want to cry more. You had to use all of your strength to get up off the floor.

You wished and prayed for Bloodhound to come home or call you at all. But you knew that wasn't going to happen. "Bloodhound would be to busy to even be thinking about you right now.." You said to yourself. You sighed and walked to your room, with hardly to none amount of energy. You plopped down and you bed and just let the tears you were holding back fall. "I'm so pathetic." You thought to yourself. "If bloodhound were here, they would tell you to try to cheer up, and keep your head held high, for the all father is watching." You said out loud.

Thinking about them didn't help you, it only made you crave their love and affection more.

You couldn't handle being awake anymore, your thoughts were getting to much for you, so you forced yourself asleep.

About 5 hours later you had woken up. You were still very drowsy but you knew if you went back to sleep it would only make things worse. So you forced yourself out of your bed and walked over to the kitchen. As you walked into the kitchen, you recognized a familiar figure.

"Bloodhound?" You said in a raspy voice. They turned around to you, already knowing you were there. "Hello y/n- what is the matter?" They asked in a worried tone. They walked over to you, very carefully, as if you were a puppy they did not want to scare away. They reached for your hand and held it gently, softly rubbing their thumb across the back of you hand.

You could tell they were very concerned about you. You could tell by the shift in the air. You shook your head and avoided eye contact. "Its nothing." You lied, "But why are you home? Aren't you supposed to be participating in the next games this weekend?" You asked them. They nodded and gently held your chin up to look that them. "I was but they decided to postpone it for 2 more weeks. I'm not exactly sure what the reason for, but it does not matter to me. All that matters is why you look so, tired." They said softly.

You tried your best to hold your tears back. But hearing Bloodhound caring voice, it just completely broke your walls down. Tears escaped your eyes, and did a sob from your mouth. You started crying violently but you had no idea why. You started shaking so quickly and you legs almost gave you. You were so scared of what was happening, but Bloodhound did not make a sound nor move a muscle. All they did was bring you in for a strong, comforting hug. And that's all you needed from them. You just needed them.

You cried into their shoulder and wrapped your arms around them. Bloodhound stroked your back as you let out you sad sobs. You needed this so bad. You were so lucky Bloodhound came home when they did. After a few minutes of letting everything out, you released each other. Bloodhound cupped your cheek in one hand and made you look up at them. "Please, tell me what you are feeling my love. Let me try to help." They said softly.

You nodded and let everything out. You told them how you realized that you were depressed, that this has been going on for a while, how you didn't want to worry them, how being away from them has put you in so much stress, and how every little thing made you want to cry.

They listened to your every word, being careful not to miss one bit. They truly cared about you, and wanted to help in every way they could. After you were done ranting, they grabbed your hands again and squeezed them reassuringly.

"My love you should not be doubting yourself. You are so beautiful and kind, and you deserve nothing but the best. You are my everything and it hurts me to see you in such pain. I am sad that it took so long for you to tell me this, but I am greatful that you did. You are worth every single moment in my life, and I will never hesitate to help you with something. My love if you are truly feeling this way, then I will help you threw every moment of it. Because I too have gonna threw such things as this. And I pray to the All father that this will not last forever. You do not deserve such punishments as this one. I love you unconditionally and this will not make my love any less, if not make it stronger then ever before. I think you for letting me see your weaknesses like this, and allowing me to see you in such a state. My love I promise I will help you threw this, every step of the way because you are so important to me and everyone around you. Please try not to ever think less of yourself. There are so many people who care so much about you. Always remember that. I love you so much, and I promise, you and I will get there this, together." They finished.

You let out a sob and a shaky smile and wrapped your arms around them. You exhaled as it felt like you haven't been able to breath in forever. With a shaky breath, you whispered to them, "Thank You, my love."

They released you and stroked your face softly. "Will you close your eyes for me?" Bloodhound said. You nodded as you whiped a few tears away. Then you heard the sound of something opening up, then a little thunk as you heard something be set down. "My love, please relax yourself for me." You heard them say with a clear voice. You realized now that they had taken their mask off. You nodded and let your shoulders relax themselves. Then you felt a hand slip to your back, as another on carefully held your head in their hand. Then you felt lips press agents your own. They were cool and soft, just as fresh powdered snow agents your lips. You kissed back and melted into their touch. You felt your body losen as they held you in their arms.

Then they quietly released you, letting you know that they were going to put their mask back one. Once you heard a click, you opened your eyes to see your lover still standing in front of you, not going anywhere. You let out a shaky smile, and pressed your forehead to their mask. You placed your hands on the side of their mask and whispered quietly, "Thank you, my love."

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

That was a long one. Phew.

[seokkie123]

Swish

-- showho, rated T, 1.7k words

for the prompt “weightlifting fairy kim bok joo” on twitter! I haven't watched this show, but I googled the plot and then somehow came up with this although it isn't exactly the same. also I really did not think it would be this long asdfgh I didn’t wanna write out full sentences so I did this script type thing, but the next thing i know the damn thing is over 1000 words smh @ myself. anyway I hope you enjoy uwu

Lee Hoseok: champion weightlifter of X University, won multiple awards with his impressive display of strength despite having a somewhat leaner frame, however his personality is a complete 360 from his body— the softest man you’ll ever meet, cries at sad movies, loves his family to death, strangely does not seem to have many friends...

Son Hyunwoo: supposedly captain of X University’s pro level swim team, probably has the same number of trophies as disqualifications... no doubt the best on the team but rarely shows up to practices, has the body of a greek god but his aloof, occasionally rude personality turns people away

Lee Jooheon: Hoseok’s close friend, training to lift weights himself, is the only one that knows Hoseok’s story, and why he doesn’t have many other friends, warm and friendly but don’t piss him off

Yoo Kihyun: Photographer and reporter for X University’s newspaper, has interviewed Hoseok several times, and Hyunwoo only once for 5 minutes, may have a thing going on with Changkyun but don’t tell Hyunwoo

Lee Minhyuk: one of the few rays of sunshine in Hyunwoo’s life, Hyunwoo’s roommate and close friend, also one of the only people Hyunwoo trusts to tell the truth about Changkyun

Chae Hyungwon: kind of a mystery since he’s either asleep, drowning in a hoodie and long hair, or modeling for Kihyun, used to date Jooheon, extremely observant and knows more than the rest think he does

Im Changkyun: Hyunwoo’s adopted younger brother, knows how soft Hyunwoo really is, very sheltered by Hyunwoo after what happened in their past, rarely leaves the house, instead studying on his own and winning scholarships to keep them both from drowning in debt

—-

Scene starts with Hoseok complaining to Jooheon about wanting someone to cuddle, someone to love. They’re studying at the library but Hoseok keeps getting distracted by a couple seated a few rows away so Jooheon proposes an idea.

Jooheon: You know what? Today’s the day. [slams hands on his desk]

Hoseok: Huh?

Jooheon: We’re gonna get you a boyfriend. Or at least kickstart your nonexistent love life. Come on, pack your stuff, you’re not doing work anyway. I know exactly where to go to find guys your type.

Hoseok: [flailing] Wha— wait—

They leave the library, Jooheon briefly pulling Hoseok behind a wall to avoid talking to his ex before heading over to the campus gym.

Hoseok: [pouty] Jooheonie, I work out here all the time, I won’t find anyone—

Jooheon: [puts his hand over Hoseok’s mouth] No. Tell me who you like and I’ll make it happen.

They watch people entering and leaving the gym for a few minutes, then Hoseok finally points to someone talking to the guy at the counter.

Jooheon: [visibly pales] Don’t point at him!! You’re... You’re kidding right?

Hoseok: [innocently confused]

Jooheon: Fuck, you’re not kidding are you.

Hoseok: No? He looks hot.. I mean he’s probably too hot for me but—

Jooheon: No, no hyunggg... that’s Son Hyunwoo, captain of our swim team.

Jooheon goes on to tell a wide-eyed Hoseok about Hyunwoo’s reputation.

Hoseok: Really? Are you sure those aren’t rumors... If he’s the captain then there’s no way he can be that bad..

Jooheon: I’m just telling you what I know but if you still want to go after him then it’s your call.

Hoseok: Hmm... I might. Not because I want to date him but because I want to know more about him.

Hyunwoo is seen leaving the gym, walking their way.

Jooheon: Hyung, don’t do something stupid—

Hoseok: [determined] The first step of my plan is to get him to notice me! So I’m just gonna walk by and pretend to be on my phone and bump into him, wish me luck!

Hoseok walks his way, weaving through a few other people walking by, and ducks his head, pretending to be absorbed in his phone. But he hadn’t taken into account how fast Hyunwoo was walking, and before he can stop, they quite literally collide, and Hoseok is pushed away.

Hyunwoo: [not looking at him] Stay the fuck away from me.

Hoseok: [rubbing his arm, upset and mad] Wha... What the hell?!

Jooheon: [runs up to Hoseok once the coast is clear and Hyunwoo is gone] Hyung!! Are you okay?!

Hoseok: No! He can’t just do that me, he doesn’t even know me!

Jooheon: Aaaah, I knew something bad would come out of this... He’s just like that sometimes, don’t take it personally.

Hoseok: [furious] I have to take it personally! He pushed me and was downright rude to me and im gonna make him apologize! [rushes off in the opposite direction]

Jooheon: [softly] What have I done?

Next scene has Hoseok outside of the swimming pool, waiting to confront Hyunwoo. Most of the other guys are out of the water since practice ended a few minutes ago but Hyunwoo is still swimming laps, much to Hoseok’s annoyance. After 10 minutes he finally gets out and Hoseok rushes in.

Hoseok: [stuttering] Son Hyunwoo!! [starts to fluster while watching his dripping wet body]

Hyunwoo: [glances over] Do I know you?

Hoseok: [almost shaking under Hyunwoo’s gaze] You should. You shoved me and were rude to me for no reason!! I want an apology!

Hyunwoo: [watches Hoseok bored] I think you have the wrong person.

Hoseok: I don’t!! It was two days ago, outside the gym, I was walking by and bumped into me and then told me to get the fuck away from you or something!

Hyunwoo: [blinks] Ah. I remember now.

Hoseok:....and?

Hyunwoo: I wasn’t talking to you.

Hoseok: What?! So it wasn’t you who pushed me either?? Just admit you’re a dick and apologize to me.

Hyunwoo: Hey...

Hoseok: [shrinks a little, stepping back] It really hurt my arm you know... and what kind of person just goes around saying...

At that moment a few swimmers walk by between Hyunwoo and Hoseok. Hoseok steps back to give them space, but then slips and falls right into the pool. The other guys maybe let out a few laughs but quickly move on, not bothered to stay. Hyunwoo seems puzzled, but doesn’t do anything until it’s clear Hoseok can’t swim.

Hyunwoo: [sighs] Of course he can’t swim..

Without much grace, Hyunwoo dives back into the pool and easily lifts Hoseok to the surface. Hoseok is coughing, clinging onto Hyunwoo and quite honestly looks miserable. Looking down at him, Hyunwoo feels something strange for a moment.

Hyunwoo: You should really stay away from pools if you can’t swim.

Hoseok: [still coughing, shaken up]

Hyunwoo: Well, I guess now is a good time to tell you I really wasn’t talking to you when I said to leave me alone. I had my earphones in one ear, and I don’t think you saw. And for shoving you... you kind of were in my way. [shrugs, a little awkward] I... I’m sorry I hurt your arm though.

Hoseok: [out of breath, not meeting Hyunwoo’s eyes once he realizes he’s still clinging onto him, and Hyunwoo hasn’t let go either] You... you’re bad at apologizing.

Hyunwoo: Thanks. I don’t do it much, so consider yourself special.

Hoseok: [blushes a tiny bit, unsure of what he meant by that]

Hyunwoo: [finally becomes aware of the fact that they haven’t moved, and treads them over to the steps out of the pool] Here, get up.

Hoseok: [frozen] I... can’t move my legs.

Hyunwoo: [supresses a sigh] Okay then hold onto me. [shifts Hoseok around onto his back, and with some effort, piggybacks him out of the pool]

Hoseok: [wobbles over to a chair and collapses in it] Um.. thanks for saving me. I’m sorry I called you a dick. [his teeth start to chatter]

Hyunwoo: [stares at the sight of a drenched and weak Hoseok for a second before leaving to the locker room]

Hoseok: [confused and upset when he doesn’t come back, gets up to head home while leaving a trail of water behind him, kind of wanting to cry] He... just left me... I guess this is my fault for overreacting again...

Hoseok makes it all the way through the sports facility, attracting stares as he does, and sniffling until he hears someone calling out.

Random guy: [running towards Hoseok] Hey! Hey you!

Hoseok: Me?

Random guy: You know there’s like no way the bus drivers will let you get on while you’re drippin water everywhere right?

Hoseok: [feeling close to tears again] I know. I was gonna walk home.

Random guy: Really? How far of a walk is it?

Hoseok:.... like an hour and a half.

Random guy: [laughs] Okay. Well if you wanna walk then I won’t stop you, but if you’d like towels and dry clothes we do have some—

Hoseok: Yes!! I mean.. yes, please. But where... how...

Random guy: Almost all the guys on the team always keep spare clothes in their lockers. The older guys tend to try and push everyone else into the pool as a prank... senior privileges. [brings Hoseok into the locker room]

Hoseok: [nervously glancing around hoping not to run into Hyunwoo, but at the same time wishing he could talk to him more]

Random guy: Hey, do you have the clothes?

Random guy #2: I need to talk to you. [glances at Hoseok] Dude, you look pathetic. Take these towels and dry yourself off, we’ll be back.

Hoseok: Oh... [watches the guys leave to have a hushed conversation a few lockers down, sighs and drys his hair and body as best as he can]

Once the guys come back, they have some clothes in their arms. They seem a bit nervous for some reason, but Hoseok is too grateful and happily accepts them anyway. He quickly throws the shirt and jeans on, liking that the shirt hangs a bit loosely on him. Hoseok thanks them again as he rushes out of the locker room, needing to get home and recount the happenings of today to Jooheon.

——

Scene changes to Hoseok getting off the bus at his stop. There seems to be some construction going on, so he takes another route to get to his tiny apartment.

He turns a corner, and almost bumps into someone.

Hoseok: [yelps, and jumps back so they don’t collide before staring up at him in horror]

Hyunwoo: [just looking Hoseok up and down]

Hoseok: Um. I didn’t know you lived around here— I was just— There was construction so— I’ll leave [tries to rush away from the awkward situation]

Hyunwoo: Wait.

Hoseok: [freezes]

Hyunwoo: Why are you wearing my clothes.

Hoseok: [internally having a meltdown] ...why is this my life.

~ to be continued ~

[jswdmb1]

You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet

“Here's something, here's something 

your never gonna forget”

- Bachman Turner Overdrive

For months my 11-year old son has been lobbying to go to Canada on Spring Break. Since his sister seemed open to the idea and didn’t have a preference of her own, we obliged. I have been telling people that I have no idea why he is so obsessed with The Great White North, but that is a lie. He just may have got it from me. I too love our gracious neighbors to the north and they proved themselves once more on our trip there last week that they are the kings and queens of hospitality on this continent.

Now, before you go there, let me stop the thought that this is an anti-America opinion piece. I love my country and am not turning my back on it. Not especially now with the way things are. Running away and ceding it to whomever thinks they have more right to my home country is the last thing on my mind. No, this is simply a pro-Canadian rant. While it will never be my home, it will be a place I always treasure. And, I’m confident enough in the greatness of my land to admit there are a few things they do better, which keeps bringing me back:

Money - we may have the world’s preferred currency in the U.S. greenback, but the physical form of our money is lame. It’s all the same color, rips easily, and has absolutely no pizzazz. In Canada, you get brightly colored bills that are made out of a strong, waterproof type of paper some of which depict cool wildlife scenes. The best are the dollar and two dollar coins that depict loons (the “loonie” and “toonie”). They are also smart about it by having no paper bills under $5 and eliminating pennies all together (cash transactions are rounded to the nearest nickel). Only Canadians could put such a fun, whimsical spin on currency, and I love it.

Candy Bars & Coffee - forget Snickers bars and Starbucks. What you need is a Coffee Crisp and some Tim Horton’s. The former is the best candy bar on the planet. It is a series of thin vanilla wafers with a lightly coffee flavored cream in between them with it all covered in milk chocolate. That’s it and no other flavors or varieties of the bar exist and there is a good reason for that. It’s because you can’t improve upon perfection. Think a Little Debbie Nutty Bar with better chocolate and a hint of mocha instead of all that peanut butter. As for Tim Horton’s, calling it the Canadian Dunkin’ Donuts Donuts is unfair because it’s way better. Their focus is a good cup of coffee at a reasonable price. A large dark roast with cream runs about $2 CAD which is less than $1.50 in the states. It is a perfectly balanced blend half way between Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks (stronger than DD but without the bitterness of Starbucks). Plus you can get a box of 10 Timbits (munchkins) for another $2. Call it the Canadian Breakfast of Champions if you want, but I wish I could get it anywhere to start my day.

Progressive Rock Power Trios - this part of the post should be unnecessary but I hate passing up an opportunity to talk about Rush.  I was about eight when a friends older brother played “A Passage to Bangkok” on his turntable.  Later on, my first concert was when the Presto tour hit Alpine Valley and I have been a fan ever since.  Their inclusion in the Rock and Roll Hall-of-Fame was long overdue, but anyone who is anyone knows that they didn’t need such validation to prove their chops.  Plus, Geddy Lee was a guest vocal on Bob & Doug McKenzie’s “Take Off’ which just adds to their legend.  Now go get your record player out and find a copy of Moving Pictures and jam to the sounds of the true North.

Football - everyone thinks America has a monopoly on the sport, but they have been playing it just as long in Canada with better rules. Bigger end zones with a field that is wider and longer. 12 men on a side and players on offense can sprint to the line of scrimmage before the ball is hiked. No touchbacks unless you are willing to give up a point (a “rouge”). And the best part - only three downs so you better not waste any of them with boring plays. All the teams play outdoors (Vancouver has a retractable roof but we’ll give them that) and the Grey Cup championship game is often played in the snow. Everything people love about the sport in one package and it’s labeled C-F-L. Oh, and they review pass interference calls so crap like that non call in the NFC Championship don’t happen. It’s basically NFL football but actually interesting and with none of the bullshit. You can have your Super Bowl, the Big party in my house will be to watch the Grey Cup on the fourth Saturday in November.

National Symbols - this will get me in trouble, but Canada has the best national symbols around. The maple leaf is a beautiful representation of the country at it looks perfect in red and white on the Canadian flag. As for a national police force, nothing is cooler than the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. And then there’s that anthem. I always love seeing the Blue Jays come to Sox park so I get to hear it live. Stirring, succinct lyrics sung to a soaring melody that make everyone feel proud of the country whether they are Canadian or not make it the best national anthem on the planet. And don’t let me forget Bob & Doug McKenzie. What better representation of what Canada is all about than those two. Just watch “Strange Brew” and tell me you don’t want to spend as much time as you can in the land of touques and back bacon.

Late Night Comedy Sketch Shows - if you think Saturday Night Live is the granddaddy of sketch comedy you need to get some copies of SCTV episodes.  Far more original skits without the need to feel cool produced some wacky and fun comedy (that’s where Bob & Doug came from).  The talent there was awesome as well - Eugene Levy, John Candy, Andrea Martin, Catherine O’Hara, Martin Short, Rick Moranis are just a few.  The jokes can be on the dry side, but that is so Canadian how could it be any other way.  SCTV finally hit the States in the early 80′s, but it didn’t stick around like SNL, which is too bad because outside of David Letterman, it was the funniest stuff on TV in the 80′s..  

I could go on but I should probably stop. Given the current state of affairs here at home, my passport has probably been revoked. Just remember though, the south is not the only direction to go when on vacation. There is a wonderful world to be explored to the north of us with super friendly people, a fabulous culture all it’s own and a friendly exchange rate to boot. Just make sure to bring me back some Coffee Crisp bars. They are really hard to find in the States.

Take off,

Jim