It took some time, but eventually the happy couple moved all their belongings over from their tiny apartment to Brindleton Bay. The house was spacious and in a lovely quiet neighbourhood. It suited their growing family perfectly and it was a short drive from Avery’s new job!
Avery: So, what do you think? Do you like it here?
Melody: It is so lovely here. I am so excited for Poppy to have a little garden to play outside when she wants. The entire town is beautiful, I love it here.
Avery: Me too! Soon enough Pop will be big enough to play outside with her new side, she’s going to love it I’m sure of it!
Melody: Speaking of Poppy! I better check she actually went to sleep, we both know she has a tendency to get back out of bed and play with her dolls after we leave! *laughs*
Avery: Aha yes! Good idea, meet in bed afterwards, I should probably get an early night consider I am meeting the bosses tomorrow!
Melody: Sounds like a plan! And yes hun please don’t stay up tonight writing! The sequel is perfect, I am sure they’ll love it!
The only thing i am sure apart of the parentage impact is that sansa is not going to give away her chambers, if ned didnt, and robert was his king and his friend, why sansa have to?
Dear nonny, you know this should be covered by guest right. If it is done right, a guest must be given the best chambers. In a small hut that could be the main chamber and the host would have to give up his own bed for the three nights a guest can stay after bread and salt are shared. It would probably be a matter of honour for a host from a lesser social status.
In a huge castle like Winterfell there must be a lof of adequate chambers and the liege lord like Robert or Da€nerys next season can certainy be provided with a chamber that is good enough even for someone who is accustomed to getting the best. It is after all common that the host as well as the guest should act politely and driving someone from the chamber he/she ususally inhabites is just not very polite. And since Jon gave Sansa the lord’s chambers they are hers at the moment. If Westerosi culture is close to medieval culture, the king or queen has to be provided with the best, but on the other hand the king or queen should not stretch the boundaries too much. And the host at a castle is the one who should determine what happens with food, chambers etc.
So, it would be politically wise as well as just polite for Da€nerys to be content with any chamber Sansa will give to her (and I’m certain she won’t give her the chamber of the kitchen maid). The idea that Da€nerys will demand the Lord’s chamber in Winterfell as the best chamber is an idea that has been floating around for some time and has been used in several fics.
We all know our Da€nerys, don’t we? She has a good heart. There is no way she will drive Sansa from her chamber given to her by Jon, if she has a reasonable adequate chamber. I mean she might not know the Westerosi culture that well, but surely she would adhere to common ideas of guest right and courtesy, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she?
Lemme just preface this with saying that I am a writer. I have been writing for most of my life. I have taken actual classes about writing and about what fiction can offer you, me, and people as a whole. I have won an award for something that I wrote. I know and love fiction, be it in written form, graphic novels, or film. It is all so good and complex and it’s something I am passionate about. That said, let’s get into this.
A good majority of the discourse that goes on in most of the fandoms I’m in stem from the idea that violence and forbidden sexual acts in fiction will encourage those actions in reality. It is important to know, firstly, that the only time this happens is when a person is immature enough or not mentally healthy enough to distinguish reality from fiction. Growing up, my parents would often stop horror movies (back when I first started watching them) to ask me questions. To be fair, they were pretty shitty people, but in this one aspect, they were so good about making sure I knew this difference. “You know this is just a movie, right? None of the stuff on the tv is real.” They’d assure before continuing the film.
It’s not real.
Now, half of the stuff I read or watched back then was nowhere near pushing boundaries or making me think critically about society or whatever. However, I knew that what I watched wasn’t real. It was images on a screen. If I don’t like what I’m seeing, I can walk away. It doesn’t have to affect me, personally, unless I let it.
Now, lets circle back. School. College. I took a writing class that used this book:
Granted, it was a screenwriting class and most of the chapters were about various script formats, but the beginning chapters focused on why we write and why we make the stories we do.
It had a section in it describing how human needs and desires are met through fiction. It detailed those needs in a list. This list:
Please draw your attention to the ones on the list that say that fictions helps people to:
Be purged of unpleasant emotions
To have vicarious but controlled emotional experiences
To confront, in a controlled situation, the horrible and terrible
To explore taboo subjects without guilt
Just because you personal don’t need various forms of ‘taboo’ media, doesn’t mean that others don’t. Media, in all of its forms, is a way for people to explore things safely. It’s an outlet that doesn’t harm anyone and it offers the creator and viewer/reader a safe way of exploring the complexities of situations (or in some cases relationships) that these people do not want to be involved in irl. Because we can distinguish reality from fiction. Because none of us are going out killing people or getting into abusive relationships or fucking our sibling.
While being critical of the media we consume is important and it is vital to dissect the whys of the media being created, there is a line between creating open discussion about these taboos, about the society and personal experiences that makes one need these outlets, and verbally abusing and harassing strangers.
If you want to create a dialogue about media or a ship you don’t agree with, fine. Talk about it. Dissect it. Really dig deep into the human condition and the psychology behind these outlets, but don’t shame people for them to the point of telling them to kill themselves or telling them they are human garbage or what the fuck ever.
Fiction isn’t always meant to be picturesque. It’s not always going to be SFW. If that isn’t your cup of tea, then great. Stop going into the tags of things that make you feel unhealthy. You do you. Keep yourself safe. Stop continuously exposing yourself to content that you can’t swallow. To keep getting involved, to keep harassing people, to keep abusing strangers shows that you don’t give a damn about the content. You need an excuse to bully someone else and indulge in holier-than-thou circle jerks with other people who also have no sense of what fiction is for.
“Ah… they did? What did they say?” Hongseok passes my phone to me as I read the messages I haven’t opened for the last few hours. Seeing them still hurt because it still feels insincere, as if I was alone in this friendship.
“Are you going to reply?” Hongseok asked while taking one of my hand in his from under the blanket. It was barely even 6am and I wasn’t down for the drama just yet.
“Not yet, let’s have cake.” I say smiling, and dragging him with me over to the kitchen still with my phone in one hand.
I took the cake out from the fridge and set it on the table between Hongseok and I. He placed a candle in the centre and lit it, turning the light off before he took his seat. The room was dark and the winter sun hasn’t yet risen and so all that was left to light up the room was the moonlight seeping through the gaps of the blinds and the orange candlelight. A few seconds after, the room was filled with his voice - he sang happy birthday and I couldn’t help but wear a smile on my face. His voice was pretty and I honestly couldn’t thank him enough for doing all this for me. When the short song came to an end we both clapped, I clapped to applaud his singing and he clapped to applaud me fo coming to life twenty-one years ago.
“Make a wish Y/N.”
“Wishes don’t come true Hongseok.”
“I’ll make sure this one does, as long as it’s realistic and I can afford it.” He laughed as I smiled.
“There’s nothing I want.”
“But there is, I can tell.”
“I just want a shoulder to lean on and not be a burden to people.”
“Done!” I laughed at his enthusiasm.
“I’ll always be your shoulder to lean on, and you’re never going to be a burden to me.”
“It makes me feel as though I’m replacing them because that’s exactly what they said to me five years ago.”
“I’m not asking to take their place silly, but just know that I’m always going to be here for you.” He grabbed my hand again from across the table and rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand. I wanted to cry in this moment because I was so grateful of him and his words.
“I don’t deserve someone like you in my life.”
“Idiot, I told you this already. You deserve more and better but you’re stuck with me now.”
“I like the sound of that though.” We both laughed and enjoyed one another’s company. Until my phone dinged, showing a notification from the group chat. I un-muted the conversation but didn’t think they’d be up to say anything.
Thank you, @cuppa-tea-eh for that prompt! :) It was so much fun! (and whenever ‘it was fun’ it turns into… well, 3k this time. Whoops!) I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer to read it there… :)
Cho Chang. Cho Chang? Really? Cho. Chang!!
“Draco, are you alright?” Pansy was waving a hand in front of his face, scrutinising him intently. She looked worried.
“Cho Chang,” Draco muttered for the umpteenth time. Pansy sighed, letting her hand drop to her side and leaning away again.
“Yes, Draco, Cho Chang. But she said no. She’s already going with someone else.”
Draco couldn’t help but sneer. Thank Merlin Chang was already going out with Diggory! But Potter seemed to fancy her nonetheless. Draco had caught him staring at the Ravenclaw in the Great Hall several times. It made him want to dump his porridge on Potter’s head.
When he saw Potter the next day, he noticed how tense his shoulders looked, how he was walking with his head bowed. Draco would have liked nothing more than to go over there and end Potter’s misery. There were only a few minor problems. Draco had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t just walk over there and ask him to the Yule Ball. Besides, Potter didn’t even like him.
The more Draco thought about the impossibility of ever being with the stupid Gryffindor, the angrier he got. As he watched Potter cross the courtyard, he acted on impulse. He scooped up a handful of snow and threw it with as much force as he could. It hit Potter right in the back of his head.
“Ow!” He whirled around and narrowed his eyes when he saw Draco sneering at him.
“Potter!” Draco didn’t even have to force his voice to sound gleeful, it was an automatism. “Could you be any more pathetic?” He approached Potter with a smart pace, flashing his ‘Potter stinks’ badge before he came to a halt in front of him. “How does it feel, Potter, to realise you’re not everybody’s darling?” He cackled scornfully, jutting his chin forward. “The Boy Who Lived… can’t even find a date for the Yule Ball.”
Potter glowered at him and Draco felt almost embarrassed about how much he was enjoying it.
“Oh, because everybody is begging you to go with them?” Potter said in a mocking tone. Draco straightened himself, attempting to look as superior as possible.
“Unlike you, I get to pick and choose amongst my devoted admirers.”
Draco scowled when Potter snorted.
“Right. The one devoted admirer being Pansy Parkinson. And you call me pathetic.”
Draco struggled to keep his composure. But he wouldn’t let Potter win.
“Should I build you a snowwoman, so you won’t end up alone after all? At least she’d have as much charisma as you.”
“Don’t bother, Malfoy,” Potter said gruffly. “Worry about yourself. I bet you can’t find someone other than Pansy who’d want to go with you.”
Draco felt his cheeks burn up. He didn’t want to go with Pansy but had already made his peace with it, seeing as the person he really wanted to go with wasn’t an option.
“I already told you, I have lots of choices,” Draco fumed. It was an outright lie and he suspected Potter knew it. The Gryffindor crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Draco a speculative glance.
“Alright, let’s make a bet then.”
Draco pressed his lips together to keep himself from gaping. He squared his shoulders and forced himself to smirk.
“Sure. But if- I mean when I turn up with my date, who won’t be Pansy, you’ll kneel in front of me and kiss my hand.” Draco chuckled inwardly.
“What? I won’t be kneeling-”
“Scared you’ll lose, Potter?” Draco said tauntingly. Potter gritted his teeth.
“Fine! Since you seem to be so sure of yourself, I’ll make it easy for you. If I win, you’ll kiss your date in front of everyone! Like you mean it.”
Draco bit his lip. Potter wasn’t playing fair. He knew Pansy had a thing for Draco and she would kill him if he went to the ball with somebody else and kissed them right in front of her. But he couldn’t back down now.
“You’ve got yourself a bet, Potter,” he growled and stalked off to the Slytherin common room. What had he gotten himself into? This was bound to end badly. He knew it from the second he had agreed to this stupid bet and was proven right again when he talked to Pansy.
“What do you mean, you can’t go to the ball with me?” she screeched. Draco sighed.
“I made a bet with Potter,” he said, plopping down in an armchair.
“And that bet excludes me as your date?” She was probably going to start throwing things any second now.
“It does,” Draco replied. “Just ask Blaise or something.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Pansy’s face was red and blotchy, her nostrils were flared and her eyes look murderous.
“I will kill Potter for this,” she yelled and stormed off into her dorm. Draco let his head fall back and tried not to think about how Pansy would react if he actually had to kiss someone in front of her. Like you mean it. Potter’s words echoed in his head. That would be a tough sell. The only person he could imagine kissing in earnest was the one he’d had to beat in this stupid bet.
Draco looked around the Great Hall and wrinkled his nose. Finding a date to the Yule Ball had turned out harder than he had anticipated. Every single person he had asked was already taken, or at least they said they were, and time was running out fast. The stupid ball was tomorrow. His only consolation was that Potter didn’t seem to have had much luck either.
He didn’t know why he did it, what idiocy drove him to provoke Potter further, but when Potions class was over, he strode over to the Gryffindor and casually leaned his hip against his desk.
“Time’s almost up, Potter. We can do a test run if you like, to familiarise your knees to being bent.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger and Weasley blinking at him.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Potter said, standing up. “You on the other hand should probably take better care of these.” Without warning, Potter’s thumb was brushing Draco’s lower lip. “They look a bit chapped. Wouldn’t want your date to cut themselves on your lip.”
Draco could only watch Potter and his friends, who were still gaping at Draco, leave the classroom while he stood there, dumbfounded and rooted to the spot. His heart was about to jump out his chest and his legs felt like he had been hit with the Jelly-Legs-Jinx.
He was still slightly swaying when he found Blaise in the library.
“Got a date yet?” he asked, putting down his quill. Draco groaned.
“No. And Potter is driving me insane!”
“Honestly, you should just ask him to be your date and be done with it,” Blaise suggested.
“You’re very helpful,” Draco barked.
“Seriously, Draco, I swear to Salazar, if you don’t do anything about it and I have to endure you talking about him every waking minute until we finish school, I will throw myself into the Great Lake.”
“You know very well I can’t do anything about it,” Draco huffed. “And I do not talk about him that much.”
Blaise gave him an exasperated look and sighed.
“Why do you even like him?”
“How should I know? I just… do.”
Shaking his head, Blaise took his quill and stuffed it into his bag.
<b>Me:</b> *is laying in bed* Well, it's getting pretty late. *puts phone down* I should probably go to bed<p/><b>Brain:</b> Hey<p/><b>Me:</b> Nope, we're gonna sleep, it's sleepy time now<p/><b>Brain:</b> but that was such a good fanfic that you were reading<p/><b>Me:</b> I know, I'll finish it tomorrow. I have to get up early.<p/><b>Brain:</b> But there was only<p/><b>Brain:</b> one<p/><b>Brain:</b> more<p/><b>Brain:</b> c h a p t e r<p/><b>Me:</b> *fucking scrambles for my phone*<p/><b>Me:</b> *reads 25 more fanfics*<p/><b>Me:</b> *doesn't get any sleep*<p/><b>Me:</b> God fucking dammit<p/></p>