Hunger Games Relevance

The 100 season 4 character summaries - in a single gif:

John Murphy:

Echo:

Bellamy Blake:

Clarke Griffin:

Emori:

Raven Reyes:

King Roan:

wotcher, vic

The first time Victoire meets Teddy, he’s two and she’s just been born. She doesn’t remember any of it, but later, much later, her parents would tell her that she’d gurgled at the sight of him like she’d known he was going to end up being her best friend. And then—this part is always accompanied by a knowing smirk—when they brought Teddy up to the new mother and daughter (“Das a bay-bee?” he’s later quoted as saying. “Weird.”), his hair changed from Weasley-red to the same shade of blonde as hers.

“Zis ees Victoire,” her maman had said, smiling down at Teddy. “Do you want to say ‘ello, Teddy?”

And Teddy had cocked his head to the side, nodded in the sort of pompous, overly-excited fashion that only a two-year-old could get away with, and said, “Wotcha, Vic.”

//

By the time Victoire can talk and walk (and thus cause all sorts of trouble), she and Teddy are inseparable. Literally—Victoire throws tantrums that pay hefty tribute to her Veela heritage whenever she goes more than a few days without seeing her best friend. Sometimes, they hang out at Auntie And-rah-meh-da’s house, but most of the time, it’s either at the Burrow or Shell Cottage or sometimes even Uncle Harry’s house. Her maman frowns when Victoire comes home with her hair a mess and her dress splattered with mud, but because Victoire’s cheeks are always flushed and her grin is set to devour her whole face, she doesn’t say anything.

After all, there’s always Cleaning Charms (and thank Merlin for them). And besides, as Victoire’s daddy likes to say when he thinks Victoire isn’t listening, “at least she’s still young enough that the only trouble she gets into with boys is a spot of mud.”

//

When Victoire turns two, her maman and daddy sit her on the couch between them and tell her that she’s going to have a sister. Victoire doesn’t care much. A sister would be nice, she thinks. Teddy is nice, but he’s four now. He’s old and sometimes he doesn’t want to hang out with her because she’s too young. Plus, he’s a boy. And boys are gross, even if they’re crazy-haired Metamorphmagus boys named Teddy. (Especially if.)

“My maman’s gonna have a baby,” she tells Teddy a few days later, lying down on the grass beside him.

Teddy doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just continues pulling up grass with stubby fingers. “Good,” he says suddenly, and she’s so surprised that she turns to face him. His hair is black like Uncle Harry’s. “You’ll have someone else to play with.”

Victoire’s face screws up. “Why’re you so mean tuh me?” she demands shrilly, sitting up and glaring at him.

Teddy turns away from her, his hair briefly taking on the same shade of green as the grass around them before returning to jet black. “Because I’m older,” he answers angrily, throwing his handful of grass at her. Most of it lands on her dress, but she can feel pieces of it in her hair. “I don’t want to play with babies like you all the time.”

Victoire starts crying. She pushes herself off the ground and runs back to the safety of her home, wishing she’d never met Teddy Lupin. That Muggle girl from the nearby village was right—boys are meanies. But she never thought Teddy could be like them. He’d taught her how to colour and he played in the mud with her and brought her Chocolate Frogs when she was sad. He was nice… wasn’t he?

Or not. Beyond furious and more than a little sad, she stomps into the cottage and slams the door behind her with as much force as she can muster. One of the panes of glass breaks, and her maman comes running into the room at the noise, one hand cradling her tummy, eyes wide. Her daddy is only a few steps behind her, his forehead all scrunched up, wand in hand.

“What ees eet, ma chérie?” her maman asks, crouching down and cradling Victoire’s face in her hands. Her beautiful features—her mother really is beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the whole world—are twisted with worry. “What ‘appened? Are you okay? Are you ‘urt? Where ees Teddy?”

When she hears Teddy’s name, Victoire starts to sob even harder. “He—he called me a baby,” she bawls, throwing her arms around her mother. “He said he was glad you’re havin’ a baby ‘cause then he doesn’t have tuh play with me anymore!”

Her mother pulls her onto her lap and starts to rock her back and forth, singing an old French lullaby under her breath. Victoire’s daddy looks angry, but he crouches next to her too, stroking her hair. “I don’t care if the kid’s four and basically family,” he mutters lowly to his wife. “I’m going to kill him.”

Victoire’s maman giggles quietly as she continues to rock Victoire back and forth. “Beell,” she says in the same tone of voice she uses on Victoire when she’s done something bad, “you cannot ‘urt every boy who ‘urts Veeky.”

“But I want to,” Victoire’s daddy mumbles, sounding every bit like his daughter in her most petulant moments.

Victoire’s maman huffs, but there’s a small smile playing out across her lips. “‘e is young,” she says firmly. “And ‘e will make mistakes. Watch—’e will be back to apologize. ‘E cannot stay away.”

And sure enough, fifteen minutes later, there’s a timid knock on the door, and it’s Teddy, looking small and lost. “I—uh…” he trails off, his eyes flickering between his scuffed trainers and where Victoire stands behind her father, hands on her hips like Aunt Ginny when she wants to look intimidating. “I’m sorry, Vicky. I was being mean.”

Victoire’s already forgiven him—she forgave him five minutes ago. But she still darts out from being her father and plants a kick square on Teddy’s shin. It gets her a time-out from her mother and an irritated look from Teddy, but her father’s smiling into his palm, so it’s worth it.

//

Her sister is born four months before Victoire’s third birthday. Victoire’s in St. Mungo’s waiting room with Teddy and Andromeda—she only learned how to properly say the older woman’s name a few weeks ago—because there’s too much screaming in room where her mother and it smells too much like the Burrow after one of Grandma Weasley’s cleaning days.

Finally, a Healer finds them and tells them the baby has been born and would you please come this way, ma’ams and sir. Victoire, scared and nervous and excited all at the same time, grabs Teddy’s hand as they follow behind the adults. Teddy’s hair turns bright red—brighter than her daddy’s—but he doesn’t pull away.

When they reach the room, the rest of her family is already there, crowded around a bed, but they smile and make room for her once they spot her. Victoire catches sight of her mother with a bundle of blankets in her arms, hair dark with sweat, cheeks flushed. But both she and Victoire’s daddy, who’s hovering beside her and looking pale, are smiling widely.

Her mother motions for Victoire come closer. Victoire hasn’t let go of Teddy’s hand yet, so he just follows behind her shyly as she gets closer to the bed. “This ees your new sister, Veeky,” her maman whispers hoarsely, holding the blankets out to Victoire.

Victoire looks down at the blankets, shocked to see a pair of blue eyes staring back at her somberly. It’s so small. Hesitantly, she reaches out a finger and touches one of the baby’s tiny fingers. The baby makes a noise that sounds a little like a laugh, and Victoire’s maman smiles even wider. “‘Er name ees Dominique.”

Victoire doesn’t really understand what’s going on, but she hugs her mom anyways, and when Teddy whispers, “are all babies this ugly?” into her ear, she stomps on his foot even though she kind of agrees with him.

//

Victoire’s brother Louis arrives when Victoire is four and a half, and Shell Cottage becomes a warzone. Luckily, though Teddy is almost seven now—way older than her—he still hangs out with her when he’s not seeing his other friends.

One day, when everyone’s at the Burrow for Sunday Brunch, he tells her that he’s going to teach Louis all his tricks. Victoire looks at him in her best Aunt Ginny impression—hands on her hips, upturned eyebrows, pursed lips, eyes blazing—and says, “what tricks, Teddy Lupin?” She’s just lost her childish lisp, and it makes her sound older. Teddy blanches.

“Blimey, Ted,” Uncle Ron laughs, clapping an affronted Teddy on the back. “You’d better watch out.”

Keep reading

Potter Sibling Stuff:

James: Why can’t I go in the kitchen?

Lily: *Hiding fallen feathers behind her back* No reason.

James: Then let me through.

Albus, From The Kitchen: ARGH!

James: *runs in and freezes*

Albus: *holding scratched arm next to a hippogriff* This isn’t what it looks like.

James: Well then what is it!? Because it looks like a Hippogriff in our kitchen!

Lily: This is all a dream *hand swishes*

James: That only worked once!

Albus: In our defence, Mum and Dad only said we couldn’t get a baby Hippogriff, they never said anything about a fully grown one.

—

Lily: *holding sketchbook* What’s this?

Albus: What are you doing in my room!?

Lily: Looking for your diary.

James: Oh I have that. Thought it was a very gay hand written novel at first.

Albus: *snatching diary* Give that!

—

James: No.

Lily: Yes.

James: No!

Lily: Yes!

Albus: Hey guys, you were taking too long and I did it anyway.

James: Wha — NO!!

—

James: Why do I have to do the dishes? I did them last night!

Lily: Because Mum and Dad love me more.

Albus: Yeah, and they hate the way I do them.

Ginny: Hey kids, oh and James, it’s rubbish day tomorrow so take the kitchen bins out.

James: Wha — I have plans!

Albus: Not anymore trash man.

—

Albus: Oh yeah, and James.

James: Yeah?

Albus: Try a silencing charm next time, it really—

James: *throws pillow at Albus*

—

Lily, Wearing Crop Top And Shorts: I’m going out.

James: Not in that you’re not!

Lily: Why not!?

Albus: Because it’s ugly.

James: At least wear something that goes together well.

—

James: *plonks on the couch*

Harry: Took me ages to fluff those pillows.

James: Sorry.

Albus: *steps over back and squats with a plate of cold pizza* What are you guys watching?

Harry: Some Muggle cop show.

James: What!? Why doesn’t he get yelled at for that!?

—

Lily: Can I invite a girl over?

Harry: Sure.

Albus: Could I invite a girl over?

Harry: No.

Albhs: Why!?

Harry: It’s just inappropriate.

Albus: What about a boy?

Harry: That’s fine.

Albus: *silent in polysexual*

James: Could I invite a boy —

Harry: You’re still grounded.

James: For what!?

Harry: *Points to dirty dishes*

James: That was Lily’s—

Harry: I don’t want to hear the excuses.

—

Albus: I may have gotten into a fight.

James: With who!? A dragon!?

Albus: No! Just some twenty-five year old with a lighter.

James: What!? Are you okay!?

Albus: Yeah I’m fine, he wasn’t very good.

James: You’re covered in cuts, bruises and burns!

Albus: And? You should see him.

Lily: *walks in* Again? What did he say this time?

James: AGAIN!?!?

—

James: *walks into bathroom to see Albus bleaching half his head* Did you have another mental breakdown?

Albus: No. It was a panic attack actually.

—

Lily: How is James better at makeup than me!? He doesn’t even wear it!

James: I’m gay, I don’t know.

—

Albus: This is a bad idea. Maybe we shouldn’t do this?

Lily: James will be hella pissed.

Albus: Okay, let’s go!

—

Albus, Over Phone: Hey Mum. You think you forgot something at the shops?

Ginny: Oh shit! Lily asked for rye bread.

Albus: I meant me!

James: You forget Albus again?

Ginny: Why didn’t you mention it?

James: You forget your child and I’m somehow to blame?

Ginny: Don’t give me that back talk!

James: Backtalk!?

Ginny: You’re grounded!

Albus: This was so worth getting left behind.

—

Lily: Can I stay over at a friends house this weekend?

Harry: Sure.

Lily: Thanks!

James and Albus: How was that so easy for her…?

Jace stepped forward to help Alec into a dark blue gear jacket printed with golden runes, while Catarina draped a cobalt-and-gilt silk jacket around Magnus’s shoulders.They both moved back, and a hush fell over the crowd as Jia spoke. “Through the centuries,” she said, “there have been few unions between Shadowhunters and Downworlders that have been recognized as such. But a new age has dawned, and with a new age come new traditions. Tonight, as Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood blend their lives and hearts, we stand ready to recognize this union. To witness a true bond between two souls who have cleaved to each other.” She cleared her throat. There was delight and pride in her face as she gazed around the gathered group. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood. Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?” It was a question asked at every wedding: part of the Shadowhunter ceremony for a thousand years. The crowd hushed, the hush of holiness, of sacred ritual observed and shared.  “I have found him,” Alec said. “And I will not let him go.” “Magnus Bane,” said Jia, “Hast thou gone among the watchmen, and in the cities of the world? Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?” “I have found him,” Magnus said, gazing at Alec. “And I will not let him go.” Jia inclined her head. “Now it is time for the exchanging of runes.” This was the moment when, in a traditional ceremony, Shadowhunters would Mark each other with wedding runes and speak the words of the vows. But Magnus could not bear runes. They would burn his skin.  Alec moved closer to Magnus and Emma saw that it was a golden brooch in the shape of the Wedded Union rune. As Alec moved toward Magnus, he spoke the words of the Nephilim vows: “Love flashes out like fire, the brightest kind of flame Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it.” He pinned the brooch over Magnus’s heart, his blue eyes never leaving Magnus’s face. “Now place me as a seal over thine heart, as a seal over thine arm: For love is strong as death. And so we are bound: stronger than flame, stronger than water, stronger than death itself.” Magnus, his gaze fixed on Alec’s, laid his hand over the brooch. It was his turn now: Alec drew aside his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, baring his upper arm. He placed a stele in Magnus’s hand and clasped Magnus’s fingers within his own. With their hands entwined, Alec traced the shape of the Wedded Union rune onto his own arm. Emma assumed the second rune, the one over his heart, would be added later, in private, as it usually was. When they were done, the rune stood out stark and black on Alec’s skin. It would never fade. It would never leave him, a sign of his love for Magnus for all time.  Slowly Magnus lowered his hand, still clasped in Alec’s. He gazed at the rune on Alec’s arm in a sort of daze, and Alec looked back at him, as if neither of them could look away. “The rings now,” said Jia, and Alec seemed to start out of a dream. Jace stepped forward and put one ring into Alec’s hand, and another into Magnus’s, and said something quietly to both of them that made them laugh.  The rings were Lightwood family rings, etched with the traditional design of flames on the outside, and with words inscribed on the inside. “Aku cinta kamu,” Magnus read out, gazing at the interior of the ring, and he smiled at Alec, a brilliant, world-spanning smile. “My love for yours, my heart for yours, my soul for yours, Alexander. Now and for all time.” Magnus and Alec slid the rings onto each other’s fingers, and Jia closed her book. “Alexander Lightwood-Bane. Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You are now married,” she said. “Let us rejoice.

The Wedding ceremony of Magnus Lightwood-Bane and Alexander Lightwood-Bane (via magnusbane-aleclightwood)

Alan Rickman, David Thewlis, Gary Oldman and all those are iconic in their roles in Harry Potter, but I’ll always be a bit sad about that casting, because having that ‘Marauders era’ cast be age appropriate would’ve just been so much better for the story.

Sirius wasn’t this old man who spent 12 years in Azkaban, no he got locked up at 21. He spent almost third of his life in a cell. He wasn’t this wise father figure to Harry, he was a reckless thirty-something who never really got the chance to mature past 21.

Remus was an exhausted, bone deep tired man carrying both physical and mental scars from the suffering he went through. Because he’s a werewolf, because of the war, because he lost all of his friends. And he’s only 33 when first introduced.

And Snape. Snape wasn’t an old bitter man who just hated everyone and enjoyed being antagonistic. He was 31 in Harry’s first year. He began to work for Voldemort as a teen, and as a double agent at 20. He’s a thirty-something bitter man, who never got to really live or make real connections. From Harry’s perspective he’s scary and intimidating, but really he’s just kinda…sad and pathetic. And then especially that scene where Snape is begging Dumbledore to help save Lily, and promising anything in return. (Because apparently Dumbledore needs something in return…for saving people.) He’s twenty. Barely out of his teens. Rickman was good in that scene, but having someone who actually looks twenty, would better show how scared, young, guilty and just desperate he was. That might not put Dumbledore in such a good light, though.

And then, the characters I think would’ve been the most important to cast age appropriately. And most people probably already agree and know who I’m talking about. James and Lily. They were 21 when they died. When Harry sees them in the mirror of Erised, they’re 10 years older than him. That’s the age difference Ron has with Bill. In that scene I might understand somewhat them being in their thirties, because that’s what Harry wants. He wants his life with his parents, he wants to have been raised by them. Though, I don’t know if the mirror could know what they might’ve looked like in their thirties, since they didn’t live that long. But then, in the cemetery when Voldemort’s wand spits the last spells cast, we see Lily and James as they were. 21. They’re telling their son to hold on just a moment longer. And they are 7 years older than him. In Deathly Hallows, Harry sees Voldemort kill them. They’re not this happy couple who’s got to love each other for a long time, only to have that happiness torn from them, no they started at Hogwarts ten years ago. They’re 21, and they’ve barely tasted that happiness. At the end of the book Harry talks to his parents. They comfort him and promise to stay with him, as he goes to die. Harry’s seventeen. James and Lily are four years older than him.

It wouldn’t have felt as nice. Harry being comforted by someone who looks almost his age. But it wasn’t nice. It was pretty tragic. Casting people who look 21, would’ve really made it land on the audience. It was a tragedy. They were barely adults.

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tell me the story of neville longbottom, the other boy who lived.

tell me the story of a boy who was born unimpressive, who could have been a chosen one had snape listened longer at the door. who had parents that loved and cherished him for far too short a time. who lost his mother and father to the cruelty of death eaters, who had to grow up with a family that always saw him as less than who he was, who he could be, because his magic remained hidden inside him, coiled like a snake.

tell me the story of a boy who could never quite handle school, who could never muster the courage to raise his hand in class, who always messed up his potions somehow. who sat in the gryffindor common room as hermione patiently went over her history of magic notes for him and wondered for the millionth time why he didn’t end up a hufflepuff. who never saw himself as anything special, not really, because there were other kids in his year whose stars burned brighter, while he struggled just to keep up with the bottom of the class.

tell me the story of a boy who stepped up, who foresaw hogwarts descending into darkness and refused to let it happen without a fight. who became the next leader of their secret fight against the dark lord, rebelling against snape and the carrows from within the castle. who led the surge to take the sword of gryffindor from snape’s office; who took blow after blow from torturing death eaters to try and protect the first-years who didn’t deserve any of this. who ended up hiding in the castle, creating a supply line to hogsmeade and continuing to fight under threat of expulsion (and worse) because someone had to do it.

tell me the story of the unchosen one, who went from a nervous little boy to the slayer of nagini in seven years. tell me about that neville longbottom.

— Queen of the South

Requested by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Answers to the Questions You Refuse to Ask by @the-ships-to-rule-them-all

Happy Birthday, Abby! God bless the wonderful person you are on this day and in all others. May you continue to spread your beautiful words and art that inspire us for many, many years to come.

I AM ABSOLUTELY LOSING MY MIND AFTER READING THIS PLEASE READ IT