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carewyncromwell · 9 months

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Either Batticus or Jackmon for the ship ask?! I can’t choose 🥰😂

Choose? As if I'd make you -- let's do both!! 🥰 Starting with Jackmon...

who made the first move: Technically Jackson. Jacko admittedly is a total charmer all the time, and even though he was too scarred by his father John Eglinton's toxic masculinity to be open with his sexuality, he most assuredly acted more than a touch flirtatiously around Monty, even if just subconsciously.

who kissed who first: Monty kissed Jackson first. Jackson had a LOT of trouble admitting to both himself and Monty how deeply he'd fallen in love with him due to his own hang-ups, but it finally got to the point that Monty could tell Jackson's denials were all just bluster, so he jumped the divide between them. As soon as he did, Jackson immediately melted and kissed Monty back.

who started the relationship: Both, once Monty finally got Jackson to face just how real their feelings were and made it clear that he was sticking right by Jackson, no matter what.

who remembers things: Monty. Jacko is ADHD as all get-out, so he's very prone to forgetting things.

nicknames for each other: Funnily enough, Monty is the one person Jackson doesn't use nicknames with -- he loves Monty so much that he won't part with a single syllable of his wonderful name, so he exclusively calls him "Montelimar." Monty will sometimes use Jackson's common nicknames like "Jackie" or "Jacko," but also tends to stick close to using Jackson's name. He will occasionally use modest terms of endearment like "love" or "chere" though.

who is more likely to pay for dinner: Oh, gosh, Jacko. Jacko is big on spoiling Monty financially, so he's the one with the deep pockets.

who normally cooks: Monty, though Jackson loves helping!

who remembers anniversaries: Both, fortunately, but Jackson goes ALL out. Expect breakfast in bed, presents, and flowers every anniversary, Monty dear.

what would they get each other for gifts: Jackson loves giving Monty new clothes, tickets to theatrical productions, books, and especially flowers. Monty also likes giving Jackson books (especially books of poetry), but also gardening equipment and new seeds or saplings that Jackson can plan in their garden, as well as writing supplies for his Ministry work and so that Jackson can write more poems of his own.

most trivial thing they fight over: The arrangement of the furniture. Monty is the sort to like to have the armchairs close to windows and lamps, so as to have plenty of light in the room for reading, and although Jackson loves reading as well, he's very finicky about a room looking aesthetically pleasing and not too crowded.

how often do they fight: Almost never. Jackson doesn't like being angry or sad, and he especially hates knowing he's upset Monty, so even if he's a total diva with very dramatic emotions, he'll often completely decease and desist the moment Monty puts his foot down.

who uses all the hot water: Oh come on, we all know it's Jackson.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: Fortunately Monty and Jackson would be well enough off that they wouldn't need to live in a flat...but if something's wrong in the house, I could see Monty being the one to remember to deal with it, unless it's something that bothers Jackson so much that he feels the need to dramatically make a big issue of it.

who leaves their stuff around: Jackson. He's more artistic in how he strews things about than sloppy, but he's enough of a diva that he would not be above dramatically sweeping off his coat or cape and tossing it across the chair after a long day of work.

who remembers to buy the milk: Monty's the responsible one, and he has the good memory, so yes, he'd fill this role in their relationship.

who controls the netflix queue: In a modern, less magical AU, this role would definitely be Jackson. He's very opinionated about the arts, so he'd dictate most of the entertainment he and Monty enjoyed together. Fortunately his tastes match up with Monty's rather well and he has good taste, so Monty doesn't mind one bit.

who steals the covers at night: Jackson, I guess -- though I see him being more of a snuggler with Monty than the blankets.

who cusses more: LOL, it's rare when either of them swear -- Monty because he's such an intellectual and Jackson because of his need to uphold his gentlemanly image.

who does most of the cleaning: Both! Magic makes it quite easy, and Jacko loves cleaning the house with Monty on the weekends.

what’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Reading books together! Jackson will often sit in Monty's lap while they take turns reading poetry together. 💚

who’s the cuddler: LMAO, definitely Jackson. He's secretly incredibly needy as a lover, and when these two are in private, Jackson is incredibly physically affectionate with Monty.

who’s the big spoon/little spoon: Monty is the big spoon -- Jackson is the little spoon.

who’s more dominant: Monty, actually! For however much of a loud, proud diva Jackson is in public, he takes on an incredibly submissive role in the bedroom.

who is the dirty talker: Mmm, technically Jackson? Though it's very muted and softcore. His "bedroom talk" is more on the vocal, submissive side than anything.

what do they do when they’re away from each other: Work, quite honestly. Though if Jackson's away from the UK on a business trip, he'll often daydream about being back at home with Monty.

what would they do if the other one was hurt: Monty is incredibly protective of Jackson -- if anyone were to hurt him, he'd pretty much immediately go into "knight-in-shining-armor" mode to protect him. If anyone hurt Monty, Jackson would immediately rush to Heal Monty's injuries himself, and probably also plot cold, silent revenge against whoever dared hurt his beloved Montelimar.

a headcanon: Jackson and Montelimar's wedding was held at a pavilion in England not far from Jackson's grandfather's estate, but their honeymoon was in Normandy, France.

And Batticus is under the cut!

Ship Ask!

who made the first move: These two's relationship is more on the queerplatonic side in their canon...but even in the Reincarnation AU, where they could be more explicitly romantic, the first move was always Bat's, though he wouldn't have seen it as such. Being demisexual and demiromantic, Bat fell in love by becoming Grim's friend first, and it was through that close friendship that Bat became more extroverted and intimate with his emotions.

who kissed who first: It would have to be Grim, impulsively -- with Bat being demi, kissing isn't something second-nature to him, and if he were a vampire, he'd be a little intimidated of getting too physically close to Grim.

who started the relationship: Both, once they talked the whole thing out. These two are both very cerebral Ravenclaws, so they'd want to not just hash out their feelings, but figure out what they wanted in a relationship and how things would work between them before committing to anything.

who remembers things: Grim. Bat's memory isn't bad, far from it, but he tends to live in the moment, and especially while he's a vampire, time becomes much more nebulous and vague to him.

nicknames for each other: "Bat" and "Grim," respectively. It's exclusively what they call each other in all canons, whether their relationship is friendly, queerplatonic. or explicitly romantic.

who is more likely to pay for dinner: They'd split the bill. Bat is poor in all canons, sad to say, but he would stubbornly and proudly try to pay for himself or just do without, rather than have Grim pay for him.

who normally cooks: Bat. He likes being of service to Grim, so when he comes over to Grim's place in their canon, he'll brew Grim tea and cook him dinner sometimes, if he's not feeling well.

who remembers anniversaries: Grim. Bat honestly doesn't put much weight on such things or even on other recurrent things like birthdays, especially when he's a vampire.

what would they get each other for gifts: Books! Oh god, these two both love giving each other books. Though Bat did also once save up to buy Grim a model train set one Christmas.

most trivial thing they fight over: Money. Bat is a proud, stubborn little bugger who can't stand it when Grim tries to pay for anything for him, even when he can't afford it.

how often do they fight: Not that often -- Bat's pretty chill by and large, so it's not easy to get him agitated. Though Grim does often express disapproval when Bat shares knowledge with their students that's not particularly "appropriate" for their age range, such as Inferi for anyone younger than the OWL level.

who uses all the hot water: Neither of them, really. I don't see either of them being the type to take long showers or baths.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: Either one, depending on who noticed it first.

who leaves their stuff around: Both. With Bat, he's likely to leave unfinished woodworking projects around -- with Grim, he's likely to leave half-graded homework assignments and paperwork around.

who remembers to buy the milk: Bat, probably on the fly, while walking past the grocers.

who controls the netflix queue: LOL, in the event that these two watched TV together, I could see them mutually surfing channels and stopping on whatever looked interesting. Documentaries, especially -- the Discovery Channel would get a lot of play, in Batticus's flat.

who steals the covers at night: Neither. Grim is an insomniac, so he never sleeps well. When he's human, Bat isn't the type to get cold while he's sleeping, and when he's a vampire, he doesn't sleep at all.

who cusses more: Surprisingly, Grim! Grim can swear a lot when he's frustrated or surprised.

who does most of the cleaning: Bat -- he loves staying busy and active, and his Quidditch-star-and-veteran-worthy strength actually does make it really easy to move furniture around to do really nice, deep cleans.

what’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Going on outings! Especially during Christmas time. Bat loves window shopping in Hogsmeade with Grim.

who’s the cuddler: Neither, really. Grim was raised in a very "proper" Victorian home, so he isn't very practiced expressing physical affection, and Bat as stated earlier is demisexual and demiromantic, so cuddling isn't something his brain and body tend to lean toward. I could see them really enjoying sleeping in the same bed in the Reincarnation AU, though -- even if they didn't end up cuddling, Grim would really like Bat leaning his head on his shoulder as he slept, and would probably be unable to stop himself from brushing some of his hair out of his face.

who’s the big spoon/little spoon: Bat as the big spoon and Grim as the little spoon, most of the time, but only because of their height difference. And yeah, this could only be in a universe where Bat wasn't a vampire who would go mad with blood lust, being so physically close to Grim.

who’s more dominant: Bat and Grim are interesting because they're really much more like equal partners, rather than one of them being dominant and the other submissive. I could see outsiders assuming Bat was the more dominant of the two, given that he's taller and stronger than Grim, but Bat is so laid-back so much of the time that Grim calls the shots in their dynamic plenty.

who is the dirty talker: Neither. Grim is too much of a gentleman and Bat is too demi in all ways for either of them to be big into dirty verbal foreplay.

what do they do when they’re away from each other: Do their own thing, quite honestly. In all universes, Bat and Grim love spending time together and they cherish each other deeply, but truly, they're able to function very well on their own as well.

what would they do if the other one was hurt: If Grim was hurt, Bat would go into soldier mode trying to protect him and take down the threat to his safety. Once the threat was negated, Bat would then rush to try to help Grim however he could, whether by Healing him himself or getting him help from someone else. If Bat was hurt...honestly, Grim would ultimately probably do the same thing! Negate the threat to Bat's safety and then do whatever he had to Heal Bat's injuries. I could just see Bat being a bit more physical in his attacks than Grim -- Atticus is an excellent magical duelist, so he'd be using his wand primarily, while Bat I could see throwing a punch, using a weapon, or tackling somebody if he had to.

a headcanon: There were quite a few students at Hogwarts who thought Professor Grimsley and Hogsmeade's vampire scholar Bartholomew Varney had "something going on." Most supposed Bat had used his "vampire glamor" to make Grim hopelessly attracted to him -- an assumption that Grim would always dryly put down if he overheard it, reminding the students in question that vampires were not veela and scolding them for believing such baseless superstitions.

#hphl #ship ask #jackson knightly #montelimar bloom #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley

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carewyncromwell · 1 year

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🖊️ for Jackson, Bat and Carewyn?

🖊 Jackson Knightly

When Jackson put on the Sorting Hat, it was on his head less than ten seconds before declaring “SLYTHERIN!” Afterwards Jackson — whose curiosity is only matched by his charm and propensity for mischief — actually swiped the Hat for an afternoon so as to have a more amiable chat with it. After all, as Jackson said at the time, “it would be ungentlemanly to simply make use of your services and then part without proper gratitude — especially when you undoubtedly would be an endless fountain of stimulating conversation!”

🖊 Bartholomew “Bat” Varney

Bat has always been a scholar, but at school, his reputation was more that of a jock, since he was Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser and so modest about his good grades. Even before he started at Hogwarts, he was known for being an excellent shot, both with a rifle and in archery. Those skills would only improve when he joined the Muggle British Army during the American Revolution.

🖊 Carewyn Cromwell

Carewyn started participating in Quidditch friendlies with Gryffindor’s Star Seeker Charlie not long after attending her first one as an observer with Penny. It ended up being one of the places Carewyn spent the most time with Charlie, Andre, and Orion over her school career — she loved playing alongside them during friendly matches. Whenever Carewyn and Charlie were on the same team, Carewyn would sometimes help out her fellow Fireball by flying with the Quaffle right past the opposing Seeker, so as to either block them or make them slam on the brakes, which could give Charlie a head start on catching the Snitch first. Whenever Andre and Carewyn were on the same team with Andre as Keeper, Carewyn would stay close to Andre a lot of the time so as to help block the hoops and to immediately snag the Quaffle after Andre blocked an opposing player’s shot. When Orion and Carewyn were on the same team…oh, good God. Orion, being Slytherin’s resident Quidditch prodigy, would play more than just Chaser during friendlies, so depending on the position he chose, he and Carewyn could kick your arse in a variety of ways. If Orion was Beater, he’d protect Carewyn with a surprising amount of fire for how straight-faced and chill he looked — honestly, even while a Chaser or Seeker, he’d frequently get the Beater on his friendly team to pass him his bat so as to protect himself and/or his teammates from Bludgers. If Orion was Keeper, he’d surf on his broom almost the entire time, even swinging off the hoops and then back onto his broom to block goals and kicking the Quaffle to Carewyn with one foot while balancing on his broom with the other. If Orion was Seeker, he’d often fake out the opposing Seeker multiple times before actually catching it, just to wear down their stamina. And if Carewyn and Orion were both Chasers, the opposing team would just about always lose by at least 50 points, even with the Snitch, thanks to how in-sync the two were flying together and how easily they could broom surf over everyone’s heads.

Send me a "🖊+an OC" and I will talk about that OC!

#headcanon ask #jackson knightly #bartholomew varney #carewyn cromwell #charlie weasley #andre egwu #orion amari #hphm #headcanons

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carewyncromwell · 1 year

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“Let me be the only one To keep you from the cold... Now the floor of heaven's lain With stars of brightest gold... They shine for you -- they shine for you -- They burn for all to see! Come into these arms again And set this spirit free...” ~“Love Song for a Vampire” by Annie Lennox

x~x~x~x

Batticus!! My darlings, how long it’s been since I’ve drawn my favorite Victorian men!! @cursebreakerfarrier

Okay, so I recently got hard-core into a mobile game called Dress Up Time Princess, which features you entering multiple stories and passing levels through collecting and crafting different outfits. I first got into it after finding out the Marie Antoinette starter story featured my historical crush the Marquis de Lafayette (though WOW, is game!Lafayette absolutely nothing like ma chere Marquis at all! I’m really kind of miffed by that), but one of my absolute favorite storylines that I’ve played so far is the one called Shadows of London. I took a liking to the (kind of obvious) vampire character Vincent Savile from the get-go, and at one point in the story, we get awarded THIS picture of him -- and yeah, I just had to draw Bat bridal-carrying Atticus the same way. Don’t judge me!!

I personally imagine that Atticus had been helping out his old contacts at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with some mission centered in Hogsmeade when he got blasted right off his feet during a duel in some somewhat elevated location and Bat had to catch Atticus right out of the air before he got too badly hurt. Obviously Bat can’t hold Grim very long because touching = feeling and hearing his heartbeat through his skin and smelling his blood, which = blood lust and immense pain and discomfort for Bat, but damned if my vampire man’s gonna let anyone hurt his buddy! And damned if he’s going to not take the opportunity to poke a bit of fun at Atticus while carrying him like a Victorian damsel too. 😏

“Ah, Grim -- I was hoping I’d catch you.”

#my art #atticus grimsley #bartholomew varney #other people's mcs

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carewyncromwell · 1 year

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“Good day, everyone. It seems that we, once again, are on the cusp of that most wondrous time of year -- the Feast of Christmas.

“I am called Bartholomew -- or more commonly just ‘Bat’ -- Varney...and this time of year is by far my favorite of the lot. To mark this occasion, my ‘mundane’ has once again given me access to her ‘Askbox,’ so that I may discuss aspects of this wonderful holiday with you, her followers, whether through historical lectures, editorials, or even lively debates. She encourages you to consult the ‘Bat Comments on Christmas!’ tag to see my previous entries to this series, to like and reblog these posts if you find them engaging and interesting, and to send in other holiday-related Asks to me, if you wish to see more. I was born in the mid-18th century and currently occupy what my mundane calls the ‘HPHL’ and ‘Fantastic Beasts’ timelines, but I have also been given access to the Fourth Wall, so that I can discuss aspects of Christmas Yet to Come as well.”

The single best aspect of Christmas is the fascinating way it has changed and will continue to change.

[Bat replaces the spent Blood Pop in his mouth with a new one with a grin that shows off his sparkling white fangs.]

“...Our subject today, appropriately enough, actually regards Christmases Yet to Come, as well as those of the Past and Present. Yes, my friends, it is time we discuss my favorite novel of all time, which arguably changed how Christmas is celebrated more than any other piece of text ever written -- Charles Dickens’s immortal classic, A Christmas Carol.

“Now, for those of you who have grown up with Christmas as a holiday, and even for many who haven’t, it would be silly to go into a full summary of the tale. It’s such a popular and well-adapted story, even back in my own era, that even those who haven’t read Dickens’s novel are familiar with it, simply through cultural osmosis...and from what I understand, over time, it’s only become more widespread. But truly, we’re not going to delve too deeply into the story of miser Ebenezer Scrooge, who initially scoffs at the thought of giving back to his fellow men and treating his employees and associates kindly around Christmas, before he’s haunted by three spirits who teach him the true meaning of the season. Instead, I’d like to talk more about the book’s publication, its themes, and ultimately why it both is a perfect time capsule of the up-and-coming Christmas fads of the mid-1800′s and ultimately came to popularize and set in stone customs we still associate with Christmas today.

“Charles Dickens was a celebrity of his day. Originally the man had no concept of what he wanted to do with his life -- he even once considered a life on stage as an actor -- but writing truly ended up being his calling. First finding success as a journalist, Dickens then became famous across Britain when he wrote The Pickwick Papers and Oliver Twist. Even her Majesty the soon-to-be Queen Victoria was purportedly enamored with them. Unfortunately Dickens’s success ended up being a double-edged sword. John Dickens would frequently use his son’s fame as leverage to borrow money, only for Charles to have to frequently come to his rescue when John couldn’t pay the lenders back. And with his family still growing (three going on four, at that time), Dickens had to keep the money rolling in, in order to pay for his family’s lifestyle. They were part of what was called the ‘middling sort,’ or the ‘middle class,’ as I’ve heard it more frequently called, which had only just started to form about a century prior, as education and land ownership became more widespread in Europe and America. Just a century ago, that ‘middle class’ had been the main force behind the American and French Revolutions and the Enlightenment ideals that argued against the superiority of kings and nobles over the common Man -- now most of their members were trying to find comfort and contentment in their new status as the ‘petit bourgeoisie.’ But there was still activism and fresh ideas to be found in their ranks, if one were to look carefully.

“The wide publication of books via printing presses and that subsequent increased access to education and knowledge fueled a new appreciation for history in 19th century Europe. Not too long ago, as I’ve discussed previously, Christmas had been banned in England, only for that idea to blow up spectacularly in the Puritans’ faces. And well, with England having lost their foothold in the American colonies and having spent even more years and money warring with France under the leadership of Napoleon Bonaparte before finally defeating him soundly at Waterloo, there was a new sense of nostalgia in England for when their country was great and prosperous...namely, the Renaissance, under the rule of Queen Elizabeth I. The arts became more reputable and profitable again after the likes of Oliver Cromwell had tried to shut down theaters en masse; investment in new technologies and sciences were promoted, sparking an Industrial Revolution in England; and holidays of the Tudor era were reinvented for a new generation, including -- you guessed it -- Christmas.

“But Christmas, as celebrated in Tudor England, was a very bawdy, raucous, messy affair. A public outdoor festival punctuated by drinking and debauchery didn’t really suit the ‘proper’ attitudes of the Victorian-era middle class. So, just as we always have with Christmas since the beginning, old traditions were attempted, adapted, and -- in some cases -- flat-out made up. One such tradition I’ve discussed previously that was likely completely fabricated around this time is the act of kissing under mistletoe. Other fads that were ultimately discarded was putting fruitcake under your pillow -- replaced with just eating it at holiday gatherings -- and wearing animal-themed costumes -- which I would argue was just shifted over to our celebration of holidays like Halloween. Even the idea of electing a ‘Lord of Misrule’ -- an aspect of the holiday I always enjoyed as a boy, which was also very popular back in the Elizabethan era -- didn’t last, under the Victorians. But still, these new twists on old traditions -- caroling at people’s doorsteps; hosting parties with friends and family; playing parlor games; exchanging presents; decorating the house with mistletoe, holly, and evergreen trees; eating lots of good food -- would become very fashionable among this new middle class and how they celebrated Christmas. And with the arrival of more Romantic ideals in Europe at the turn of the 19th century, the concept of children being evocative of innocence rather than sin became much more mainstream. This then prompted middle-class parents to want to make the old bawdy Feast of Christmas more family-friendly and to use some of their new wealth to give both themselves and their children some joy during the holiday season.

“Dickens, like many members of the Victorian middle class, loved Christmas and the new fashionable ways it was being celebrated. Considering the man also greatly disdained organized religion, as well, it’s not entirely surprising he enjoyed the secular trappings that encouraged joy and extravagance without making it too focused on the church. But Charles Dickens didn’t just think Christmastime should be a time for the middle class to indulge for themselves. The true inspiration behind his novel A Christmas Carol ultimately ended up being Dickens witnessing the horrific conditions child workers suffered through in the new Victorian factories he saw in England, including the Cornish Tin Mines. He became convinced that something had to be done to combat the poverty and injustice he saw in the streets, and he ultimately thought that a story about Christmas might be a more palatable way to deliver that message to the mass public, including other members of the middle class, than a mere article would. And so Dickens partnered the Victorian fad of indulgence with social activism...which, ironically enough, perfectly adapted another tenant of Christmas back in my day, as well as its progenitor celebration of Saturnalia -- the redistribution of wealth. Whether Dickens realized it at the time or not, he had adapted the core of Christmas for a new generation -- this time, not by the poor having to beg or threaten the rich at their doors for their best food and drink, but by the new middle class and the wealthy being compelled by civic duty to give back to the needy willingly.

“A Christmas Carol was an instant success. Thousands of copies were sold all over England from the moment it first hit shelves on December 19th, 1843, with the entire first run being sold out by Christmas Eve of that year and twelve more editions being published by the end of the following year. It is by far Dickens’s most well-known, read, and beloved novel, and it has only become more popular over time. And yet, in his day, Dickens didn’t enjoy the profits he probably should’ve from A Christmas Carol, after all his efforts. Part of this is because of how much money he invested into the publication of his manuscript. Dickens envisioned his book as something that should be bought and given as a Christmas present, and so spared no expense in making each book a work of art. The books were bound in red cloth, printed on gilt-edged pages, with hand-painted illustrations. All of this took a big chunk out of Dickens’s profits. Another problem, however, was that this expensive binding was the only way the book was published, which made it so that many poorer people who wanted to read this new book written by the great Charles Dickens about the virtue of giving to the poor didn’t have the five shillings needed to buy it. And this is why a lesser publisher ultimately plagiarized the novel, condensing it somewhat and printing it much more cheaply without permission, so as to cash in on those who couldn’t afford the full, official manuscript. Dickens later took that publisher to court for copyright infringement and won, but the whole affair still hurt his profit margin.

“Even so, A Christmas Carol’s legacy is undeniable, and many of the Christmas traditions we love most today -- mere passing fads of Dickens’s era -- were popularized because of this very well-received and circulated little book. Christmas cards and gifts. Games and toys. Caroling. Childhood innocence. Christmas trees. Eating turkey, pies, and warm chestnuts for Christmas dinner. Giving to the poor. Even just the concept of the ‘holiday spirit,’ of ‘good will toward men’ -- of hope and charity, in the midst of the cold and hunger of winter. The ritual of taking time off work specifically just to celebrate at home with your loved ones, rather than go to church or go out drinking in the streets. All of this is what Christmas is all about in the minds and hearts of so many...but it wasn’t, until Charles Dickens wrapped all of these ideas up in a neat little package and gave it to the world, in the form of a manuscript he had to finish in less than six weeks and yet clearly put so much heart and soul into.”

[Bat removes the spent pop from his mouth. He reaches into the inside of his waistcoat, taking a sip of blood from his pewter flask. Then, clearing his throat, he puts the flask down and then reaches into the other side of his waistcoat, out of which he fetches out a very small, leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol -- a present from someone, no doubt.]

“...And so...to close this out...let me quote one of my personal favorite sections of the novel. It’s a part of the story far less quoted than the infamous ending, but it’s a passage I’ve always found so striking, and one I think similarly embodies the beauty of Dickens’s work...”

[Bat opens his tiny copy of the manuscript and reads:]

“‘A small matter,’ said the Ghost, ‘to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.’

“‘Small!’ echoed Scrooge.

“The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so, said,

“‘Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?’

“‘It isn’t that,’ said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. ‘It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ‘em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.’”

[Bat looks up from his book with another fanged grin as he takes another sip of blood from his flask.]

“...Happy Christmas to you all.”

((OOC: HAPPY BATMAS!! 🎄🥰 Yes, friends, for all this month and next, Bat had free reign over the Askbox to chat Christmas with you all! Please consider sending in Asks, or of course, just liking/reblogging my entries to this series! It’s truly so much fun to work on, and I’m so thrilled to do some more fun installments to it this year!))

#bat comments on christmas!#bartholomew varney #roleplaying #christmas #a christmas carol #hphl #hogwarts legacy #history #harry potter

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carewyncromwell · 10 months

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jasmine & chia for desiree and bat💙

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

[Desiree has to consider this question incredibly carefully.]

Desiree: "...Truthfully...no, I cannot zhink of anyzhing zhat fits zis question. I have not watched many non-Magique moving pictures, but ze few I have zeen are pleasant enough. And as for books -- mon Dieu! Even zhose books zhat I have read a million times, I would be happy to read again. Even zhose books I have read and not enjoyed as much as ozhers, I would be willing to try again at zome later date. If I end up not liking zhem again, ah! C'est la vie. And zhere are zo many more wonderful zhings to read, in zheir place."

Bat: "Robinson Crusoe. I read it quite a few times as a young lad, largely because there weren't that many fiction books in print appropriate for boys my age back then, Muggle or otherwise...but over time, I've found both the main character and his outlook on the world and the people in it who differ from him less and less pleasant. From what I've been able to research about the author of the novel, it seems Mr. Defoe was an intellectual to a degree, indulging in political satire and championing the ideas of religious freedom at a time when people were arrested for speaking ill of the nobility and violently persecuted for their faith...but the character Defoe created sadly embodies the painfully racist, imperialistic attitude that many non-Britons came to associate with England in particular, when it was a world power."

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

[Desiree can't bite back a wry smile.]

Desiree: "I do not know if zis counts...but ze very time we first met, Monsieur Aquila told me to call him by his nickname alone. I refused, zince we were still but strangers, and it would not be appropriate -- zo I only called him 'Monsieur Aquila.' Even when I joined his crew, I zhought it would be best to call him 'Captain,' for zhat is what he is."

[Her long-lashed black eyes twinkle with something almost girlish, with how much amusement dances through her expression.]

Desiree: "Even now, he ztill tries to coax me to just call him by his nickname -- but I never do."

Julio Aquila is a very handsome name. Zeems a great shame, to shorten it.

@kathrynalicemc

[Have a fanged smirk.]

Bat: "Oh, my old school friends and I had plenty, back in the day. Most of them at my expense...but hey, it was all in good fun! I laughed just as much as anyone else."

Sometimes all you can do in the face of having eternal bad luck is have a good sense of humor about it...

[Memories of Barty and Cecelia swooping in to save him from the consequences of yet another lost bet flicker over Bat's mind, making a bittersweet smile twitch at the corners of his lips.]

Bat: "For a more modern example, though, I can always point to one I've got with Grim. I very often have to go up to the school in dog form -- I'm an Irish Wolfhound Animagus -- and quite a few the portraits have found me rather cute, especially when I come bearing gifts for Grim in my teeth. So several of them started calling me different things, such as 'Mutt' or 'Wolfy' -- "

[Bat's fanged grin spreads.]

Bat: " -- nicknames that Grim occasionally will also 'adopt,' when we're out in public with me as a dog. He always gets such compliments about how well trained I am."

[It's clear this amuses Bat greatly.]

@cursebreakerfarrier

Plant Ask!

#hphl #fantastic beasts and where to find them #plant ask #desiree lestrange #ask desiree #julio aquila #jules aquila #bartholomew varney #cecelia crouch varney #ask bartholomew #atticus grimsley #roleplaying

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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“Raise a glass to freedom, Something they can never take away, No matter what they tell you... (Someone will come running to take you home...) Raise a glass to all of us -- Tomorrow there'll be more of us, Telling the story of tonight! (Out of the shadows...) The morning is breaking, (They'll tell the story of tonight!) And all is new -- (All is new) All is new! It's only a matter of time...”

~“Found/Tonight” by Ben Platt and Lin-Manuel Miranda

x~x~x~x

featuring Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier and Bartholomew “Bat” Varney @carewyncromwell, and also referencing Danny Gibson @catohphm, Jackson Knightly, Rex Brokenshire, and Teddy, Adelia, Bertie, Violet, and Holly Selwyn-Ellison @thatravenpuffwitch

x~x~x~x

It was a significant event in 1915 when Atticus Grimsley finally retired from the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His successor ended up being one of Atticus’s former students, a well-respected Auror named Dan Gibson, who was soon embraced by the remaining faculty and students just as Atticus had been when he’d first arrived. Not that Atticus had had any doubts -- Danny had always been a very bright lad, and it was good to see him prosper.

Even in retirement, however, Atticus continued to visit Hogsmeade village regularly. Although yes, it was a good way for him to catch up with his former work colleagues and students, all those who knew Atticus knew the main reason was so that Atticus could spend quality time with his closest companion -- the vampire called Bartholomew Varney.

Varney, affectionately called “Bat” by just about everyone, was an oddity among his kind. Whereas many vampires actively tried to cloister themselves away in colonies far away from humans so as to not provoke their blood lust, Bat spent his days meditating in the attic of Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop and spent his nights wandering through the village. There he’d enjoy the atmosphere, go shopping, and even engage with those precious few students from the neighboring school who earned his esteem enough to merit a lecture in History of Magic or Potions. And, of course, he’d talk and laugh with “Grim,” as he affectionately called Atticus, for hours on end, well into the night and more warmly than with anyone else. Then they’d often leave the village together, still talking avidly, with Bat returning to Honeydukes in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise.

They were a funny pair, Bat Varney and Atticus Grimsley -- funnier still, many thought, as Atticus got older and grayer and Bat remained ever youthful in look, even despite his hollowed-out eyes and sickly pale complexion. There were points where Bat almost treated Atticus like his aging uncle, in how he’d help his compatriot up out of his chair, and yet there were other times they acted almost like a couple, in how Bat would help Atticus put his coat back on, before going back outside. And still even throughout all that, regardless of the little gestures here and there, every day they smiled, laughed, teased, debated, entertained, and confided in each other like nothing less than the very best of friends.

One of these many nights Atticus and Bat spent together was in the fall of 1927, in the height of the so-called “roaring 20′s.” Atticus had come down with a rather nasty chest cold, so Bat had swung by his cottage in Cumbria to cheer his friend up and brew him some proper Pepper-up Potions, along with the usual Sleeping Draught. Bat clearly took great pleasure in the opportunity to be useful to his old friend -- he was even humming to himself as he set about chopping up the mandrake root on Atticus’s kitchen counter.

“Joy to the world -- the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King...”

Atticus couldn’t fight back the tired grin winding its way onto his face. “Singing Christmas carols? Come now, Bat, we’ve not even passed October yet...”

“Mayhaps if Halloween developed some proper carols of its own, I could sing those instead,” Bat called over playfully from the next room. “Until then, I shall just have to enjoy the best time of the year a bit early -- goodness knows those two months will fly by soon enough...”

Atticus shook his head amusedly. It was something he regretted, though, when his sinuses began to pound behind his eyes angrily -- the older man flopped back down onto his pillows with a low groan.

Bat strolled through the open door of Atticus’s room, a tray in his hands. Stacked haphazardly on it was a full tea service, a goblet with white steam coming off of it, and two leather-bound books. There was also a newspaper folded under Bat’s arm -- no doubt the most recent edition of the Evening Prophet -- and the familiar white stick of a Blood Pop sticking out of his mouth.

“Hang in there, Grim,” he said with a slightly wry, but still rather gentle expression. “I’m coming.”

He put the tray, books, and newspaper down on Atticus’s side table and immediately moved to Atticus’s bedside, the steaming goblet in hand.

“Can you sit up on your own?” he asked.

Atticus coughed loudly, only to hold his head at the pain that shot through as a result. “Of course I can -- I’m not that infirm...”

The over-sixty-year-old man eased himself up into a seated position in bed. Atticus’s stubbornness only served to make Bat grin that bit more toothily around his Blood Pop.

“What’s that smirk for?” Atticus asked with a soft grunt as he adjusted himself so he could lean back against his headboard.

Bat’s grin only broadened. “Nothing. Just thinking you haven’t changed a bit.”

Atticus gave a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Rubbish. The very first thing out of your mouth when you arrived was that it looked like I’d grown another gray hair.”

It was a comment that had hurt more than Atticus would’ve ever admitted. He hated knowing he was getting older. Ironically it was something he’d never paid much mind to before -- he’d found himself losing track of his own birthdays even back when he was still a boy -- but since befriending Bat, Atticus had become much more aware of it. The ex-professor knew that Bat had had to disappear from his loved ones’ lives, just to keep his sanity in the face of watching them shrivel up and die before his eyes while he stayed the same. And yet Bat was staying by Atticus, even as he aged. And once he’d retired, Atticus found himself somewhat adrift without the consistent, relentless schedule of teaching. It had certainly been nice to have so much time to himself at the start, but it was also a bit terrifying, to have this thing that had defined so much of his life suddenly be gone...to not be as quick or strong as he once was...to catch himself having to refresh himself on routine spells like Aguamenti, simply because he’d gotten out of the habit of using them...

With a chuckle, Bat sat down on the bed beside Atticus. He slid the smoking goblet into his hands, holding both of them around the piping-hot glass, no doubt to ensure Atticus had a secure grip on it before letting go. Atticus himself, however, couldn’t stop himself from staring down at their joined hands: Bat’s as strong as ever, no matter how sickly pale, over his own rosy, but age-spotted and wrinkled ones.

“You got it?” said Bat.

“Of course I’ve got it,” Atticus shot back, a bit more sourly than he meant, as he pulled his hands and the goblet out of Bat’s grip. “Stop treating me like an old man.”

He took a long sip, only to choke at the feeling of the hot liquid scalding his throat. Once he’d recovered, Atticus quickly finished it off, breathing in the steam as it poured through his stuffed-up nostrils, dissipating the mucus and phlegm clogging up his sinuses.

“I’m the old man out of the two of us, Grim.”

When Atticus looked up at Bat again, the vampire’s expression had lost the smile, becoming a bit more serious. The ex-professor averted his eyes down to the still smoking goblet.

“Yes, obviously,” Atticus said uncomfortably, “but it doesn’t show on you. But I’m not that helpless, you know -- you don’t have to coddle me so much.”

“I’m doing that because you’re sick, Grim, not because you’re old.”

Bat considered Atticus for a moment. Then he gave a great suck to the Blood Pop in his mouth and, very tentatively, brought up a cold hand to Atticus’s forehead, so as to feel his temperature.

Atticus flushed a very dark red. “...B-Bat?”

Bat’s scarlet eyes were locked on his hand on Atticus’s forehead rather than Atticus’s face as he gave another loud slurp to the Blood Pop in his mouth.

“I won’t be able to stay into the morning,” he said lowly. “I’ve got to make sure you’ll be all right, before I leave.”

Atticus stared up at Bat, taken aback by just how serious he looked. He could feel his heart racing, and he tried desperately to will it into submission -- he knew Bat would be able to both hear and feel it, and the last thing he wanted was to needlessly antagonize his blood lust.

“I’m all right, Bat,” he murmured, his voice coming out oddly breathy. “I am.”

Bat gave another loud suck to the Blood Pop in his mouth as he looked at Atticus. Atticus could see red creeping in on the edge of his friend’s eyes and could tell he was having trouble, being so close to him -- and yet he powered through all the same.

“You will be,” he said softly. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Smoothing Atticus’s graying, sweat-soaked bangs from his face, Bat then closed his eyes and forcibly removed himself, retreating to the corner of the room so he could take his pewter flask out of the inside of his waistcoat and take a long swig. Then, taking several deep breaths, he chucked the spent white stick from his mouth, took a fresh Blood Pop out of his pocket, and stuck in his mouth before sweeping back toward the kitchen.

“I forgot,” he said in a noticeably brighter tone, “The eldest Honeydukes gave me some hazelnut chocolate scones for me to bring along for you.”

Atticus blinked. “Really? That was thoughtful of her.”

He shifted his gaze down to the tea service Bat had put out. The vampire had already prepared Atticus a cup of tea just the way he liked it, so the ex-professor gently picked it up and sipped it as he picked up the Evening Prophet next to the tray.

The tea smelled lovely. His nose was already clearing up nicely.

“Indeed,” Bat said amusedly. “She recalled your ‘voracious sweet tooth’ and thought you’d be the best test subject for her new recipe.”

Atticus bit back a laugh. “Considering the talent of the chocolatier in question, I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

Taking another sip of his tea, he perused the front page. The headline at the top, however, dimmed the light in his expression significantly.

GELLERT GRINDELWALD TERRORIZES PARIS

Rally hosted by infamous Dark wizard ends in an explosion of magical flames only barely contained by French Aurors

‘First New York City and now Paris,’ thought Atticus grimly. ‘He’s getting bolder, if he feels brave enough to act out in such large cities, protected by such powerful magical ministries...’

“...working on a new caramel recipe, if you’d like to try that as well...”

“Mm,” said Atticus, only vaguely taking in what Bat had said. The article was holding his attention captive.

‘Thirty dead or wounded...a good chunk of them French Aurors who’d been purposefully lured to the event, just to be made an example out of...burned alive with a lethal casting of Protego Diabolica...’

The mental image of a dozen young men with faces like the wizards he used to work with at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rippled over Atticus’s mind, making his stomach clench with nausea.

A clink to his left made Atticus straighten up sharply. Bat had returned with one of Madam Honeydukes’s scones and had just put the plate down on the tray beside the teapot.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, reading that,” Bat said lowly.

Atticus couldn’t tell if Bat was reproaching him or not -- it made him react a bit defensively.

“I want to know what’s going on in the world, Bat, whether I’m sick or not.”

To Atticus’s surprise, Bat’s expression actually softened.

“...I understand.”

He held out his hand expectantly.

“Hand me your cup -- I’ll pour you a new one.”

Atticus frowned. “I can do it my -- ”

“I know you can,” Bat cut him off smoothly. “But I want to do it.”

Atticus considered Bat for a moment, his eyes flitting down to his open hand. Then he relented, handing the empty cup over to Bat so that he could pour Atticus a new cup of tea and add in the proper amount of sugar and milk.

“It’s disgusting,” Atticus murmured.

Bat handed him the cup. “You mean Grindelwald and not the tea, I hope?”

“Yes, of course,” Atticus said quickly. His face then grew that bit grimmer. “...What he did to those Aurors -- to the city -- to his own supporters, just for not being loyal enough. And all in the name of ‘protecting’ the Wizarding World!” His blue eyes flared with anger. “It’s absolutely vile.”

Bat’s own scarlet eyes hardened significantly. “It is. As are all people like him.”

He picked up the empty potion goblet and strolled back out into the kitchen as if to go clean it out.

“Men like Grindelwald...they don’t see anyone else as truly human, unless they align perfectly with their demented world view. Unless they’re wizards, or white, or Protestant, or Pureblood, or whatever else they’ve decided elevates them over everyone else. And, of course, unless they likewise ascribe to the idea that those people are inherently superior, for that reason...for what does it matter if you’re the perfect Pureblood specimen, if you’re a ‘blood traitor’ that sees other people as just as human as you are?”

Bat’s voice, however level and quiet, betrayed a lot of resentment and righteousness, smoldering just under the surface.

Atticus’s eyes narrowed a bit as he nodded.

“For the life of me, I will never understand such people,” he said. “Though I suppose in a way, that’s probably a good thing.”

“It is,” agreed Bat. “One thing is for sure, though -- blokes like Grindelwald don’t stop until they’re forced to. Yes, the British Ministry was able to prevent Grindelwald from torching Paris, but they didn’t capture him. They didn’t incapacitate him. Therefore it’s only a matter of time before he does something else that’s much worse.”

Atticus took another sip of tea. As he did, however, something made him pause, his lips lingering on the cup. He skimmed the article one more time, before straightening up a bit to look out the doorframe toward the kitchen.

“...British Ministry?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. “In the article, it says the French Aurors dealt with it.”

There was a very long silence. It was only punctured by the light clink and snap of Bat cleaning out the goblet and putting it back in the kitchen cabinet.

“Bat?” said Atticus.

Bat didn’t answer. Atticus’s frown deepened.

“Bat -- ”

“I heard you.”

Bat’s voice had become quieter and more detached. The sound troubled Atticus that bit more -- Bat only ever detached emotionally when he was upset. It made Atticus inch himself out of bed, supporting himself on the edge of his headboard as he straightened up and shuffled over to the doorframe.

He found Bat cleaning the kitchen, wiping the counter clean with a wet rag. His eyes were focused solely on what he was doing, so it was clearly busy work more than anything: something to distract him. He did stiffen ever-so-slightly when Atticus approached -- no matter how quiet Atticus might try to be, he could never sneak up on a vampire. Not that Atticus cared -- he had no interest in getting the drop on Bat. Instead he merely walked over to stand beside his friend, leaning on the edge of the counter and watching his pale, gaunt face as he stubbornly refused to look at him.

“Robert,” Atticus said a bit more gently.

The name had a visible impact on Bat. It made something flutter through his expression -- something more youthful and almost vulnerable -- to the point that it was almost like a boyish flush, bringing life back into his palid cheeks. He turned to Atticus very abruptly, his scarlet eyes seeming oddly rounder than before. It made the sharp, bright light in them shine more handsomely than ever -- more like a young man, rather than that of an old soul trapped in a young frame.

The handsomeness of Bat’s eyes didn’t falter even as he his expression turned much more evasive and hesitant.

“...The French Aurors at the event were all slaughtered,” Bat admitted softly at last. “The Aurors who saved Paris were from our department, in Britain. ...It’s something Minister Fawley doesn’t want circulated, when the British Ministry has been trying to keep its activity in other countries quiet.”

Atticus’s eyebrows furrowed. “...Well, yes, I suppose that’s understandable -- but if that’s true, then how are you aware of it? If you’ve heard of it from an outside source, then clearly it’s already being circulated -- ”

Bat looked Atticus straight-on in the eye, and Atticus’s words died in his throat. His eyes widened slowly.

“...They told you?” he whispered.

Bat inclined his head in something of a short nod, his scarlet eyes drifting away, up onto the kitchen window.

“But -- ” Atticus stammered, “ -- but if the Ministry told you, that means that they trust you with that kind of intelligence! And the only people that the Ministry of Magic would trust with that kind of intelligence would be people who work for them. Aurors, Unspeakables, investigators...”

“...And other such agents,” Bat finished off grimly. “Yes.”

Atticus stared at Bat for a moment. Then his eyes slowly lit up and his mouth spread into an incredulous smile.

“...You’re helping the Ministry fight Grindelwald?” he whispered.

“In a way,” Bat said uncomfortably. “I’m more an academic resource than anything. Adelia put me in contact with Minister Knightly several years back, and he sent me messages inquiring about certain things...asking me to put my ear to the ground in Knockturn Alley and such, among like-minded Dark wizards. Just try to sort out the source of Grindelwald’s new-found power, and what he might aim to do with it. Not that old Fawley’s been very forthcoming with help -- reckon it’s only because of the few contacts I worked with in the Department of Mysteries following up with me that I’ve gotten any updates since Knightly left office...”

Bat’s dismissiveness toward his work didn’t dampen Atticus’s smile one bit. On the contrary, the ex-professor was so delighted by it that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing his compatriot’s shoulders. The affectionate gesture visibly startled Bat.

“Bat, that’s wonderful,” said Atticus. “With how much you’ve studied over the years...why, that kind of knowledge must be invaluable, to the fight against Grindelwald.”

His blue eyes sparkled with pride.

“It was brilliant of Ms. Selwyn-Ellison, to suggest you to the Minister. And so good of you, to do it...I know you’ve never much liked the Ministry, so you putting your differences with them aside, to fight Grindelwald -- it’s so good of you, to put the safety of others first.”

Red pricked at the edges of Bat’s eyes in response to Atticus’s proximity. Upon noticing it, Atticus’s smile flickered and died and he immediately backed away.

“Forgive me, I -- I forgot myself -- ”

To Atticus’s surprise, though, Bat didn’t distance himself further. On the contrary, he took the spent Blood Pop stick out of his mouth, replaced it, and then extended an arm so as to wrap it around Atticus and pull him up beside his chest. Bat buried his face right beside Atticus’s neck, while Atticus’s face landed right on Bat’s chest -- right beside the cursed, undead heart that pumped the blood Bat had to consume so regularly, just to keep his body and mind from going insane from blood lust...

“Bat?” said Atticus, startled.

The breaths that hit Atticus’s neck from Bat’s nose were as supernaturally cold as his hand as it anchored itself on the back of Atticus’s head.

“Thanks, Grim,” Bat murmured.

Atticus could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, and he relaxed a bit despite himself. It was a reaction most anyone else would’ve been shocked by, considering he currently had a vampire’s fangs mere inches from his neck.

But Atticus wasn’t afraid. Bat would never harm him. He would never harm anyone, unless it was to protect someone he loved...

Atticus heard Bat take a very shaky breath and could tell that he was struggling to restrain himself. Bringing a hand up to hold onto the back of Bat’s shirt, he gently pried himself out of Bat’s arms.

“Robert,” he said softly, “you should let go now.”

But Bat seemed oddly reluctant to let go, even though his fangs were lengthening. His eyes were shut tight as his hand tangled itself that bit more in the dark strands of Atticus’s hair.

“Not yet,” he rasped.

Atticus’s eyes grew softer still. “Robert...”

“I can do it,” he repeated, a bit shakily. “I can do it.”

He took a sip from his flask without even taking the Blood Pop out of his mouth. Then, ignoring the fangs still at the front of his mouth, he brought his head down to rest on top of Atticus’s.

“I want to remember,” the vampire murmured beside Atticus’s hair.

Atticus blinked. “Remember what?”

“What I’m fighting for, every time I go out and scout out information, for those Ministry sheep.”

Atticus’s lip twitched with a faintly exasperated frown. “I was one of those so-called ‘sheep,’ as you might recall -- as was Mr. Gibson, and as is Mr. Ellison.”

“Every flock needs a few sheepdogs around, to give them some direction,” Bat said dismissively.

“So says someone who turns into a dog on a regular basis, whenever he needs to shepherd the Selwyn-Ellison children back to school.”

Bat chuckled lowly as his long-fingered hand trailed through Atticus’s hair absently. The ex-professor felt his flush darken that bit more every time Bat’s cold fingertips grazed the back of his neck.

“You see, Grim?” he said softly. His set of four sharp, cat-like fangs glinted brightly as he smiled. “This is it. What I’m fighting for, right here.”

Atticus cocked an eyebrow. “Friendly banter?”

“You,” Bat corrected him. He closed his eyes as he grinned around the Blood Pop in his mouth. “When I’m with you, or Danny, or Rex, or Adelia, or Teddy, or Bertie or Vi or little Holly-berry...the Honeydukes family, and your students and mine...”

He opened his eyes again, smiling fully and handsomely no matter how monstrous his entirely scarlet eyes looked.

“...When I see you all live your lives, and can be part of them, even just in some small way...it’s like...I’m almost me, again. Who I was before. When I can talk about silly things with you -- solve your problems and make you smile...you make me feel alive. More alive than I have in a hundred and forty years.”

Atticus felt his heart swell in his chest, seeing such sincere joy in his friend’s face. When he’d first met Bat in Hogsmeade, he never could’ve imagined such a mysterious, reclusive vampire could smile like that -- such a warm smile, such soft and...well, beautiful. As beautiful as a sunrise...a sunrise this man would never be able to enjoy again, all because of his condition that made it so that everything around him would wither away, while he stayed exactly the same...

Bat felt happy -- he felt alive, because of Atticus. It was such an empowering, yet bittersweet feeling: like a bite of savory chocolate with a terribly harsh aftertaste. It made Atticus swallow back the lump in his throat and, after the shortest hesitation, throw out his hand and clutch the back of Bat’s waistcoat and hold his friend tighter.

“You...” Atticus whispered, “...are more alive than any other man I have ever known in my life, Robert Harker.”

Bat’s hand in Atticus’s hair stilled.

“Blood lust or no -- vampirism or no,” Atticus said more firmly, “you love life, and the people around you, more deeply than any human man. More deeply than I will likely ever know.”

Atticus’s mouth spread into a wide, open grin beside Bat’s undead heart.

“Don’t ever change. No matter what -- stay just the way you are.”

Bat was very quiet for a long moment. Then, clutching Atticus’s dark hair in his fist, he yanked himself away at last.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “I can’t -- ”

He spat out the Blood Pop, his claw-like hand fumbling inside his waistcoat for his pewter flask. Atticus immediately reached out to help secure Bat’s shaking hand around the flask so it was easier to take a swig, and also reached into Bat’s pocket to unwrap another Blood Pop for him so that when he’d finally chugged down a good gallon’s worth of blood, Bat could immediately stick the Pop in his mouth and take several good deep breaths.

Once he’d recovered himself, the vampire chuckled.

“See?” he said playfully. “Told you I was the old man, out of the two of us.”

Atticus smiled wryly. “You know, you’re right. I think I can see the white hairs from here.”

Bat laughed louder still, as happily and sincerely as a man with no burdens to bear. It was a sound that likewise made Atticus’s smile grow that bit wider and his eyes sparkle that bit more brightly.